The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Imperium destroyer detected, 3 million km distance. She’s heading to hide herself behind the second planet in this system. Anticipate we’ll be in range in twenty minutes.”

Captain Kate Muller permitted herself a small smile. The report from her tactical officer, Lt Hines, had closed off a two- week cat-and-mouse chase of this damned elusive destroyer through several solar systems. Now she had it tight within a gravitational field, so unable to jump to light speed, and her cruiser’s speed was easily sufficient to corner the Imperium ship.

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Ship, red alert. Prepare for battle.”

She paused, uncharacteristically uncertain. “Commander Jensen, where are your raiders?”

The voice channel crackled. “We’re spread wide for recon, Captain. Should we re-form on the cruiser?”

Muller chewed her lip for a moment. “Yes. Bring your raiders within our shields—Tactical, let them through. You can’t do much against a new-generation destroyer; let us do the hard work. No sense risking you for no reason.”

“Aye, Captain. Raiders; fall in behind the cruiser. Merge through the cruiser shields, slow and steady.”

With that concern removed, Muller returned to the tactical picture. “Forward batteries, plot firing solutions. Anticipate that we will be in range in eighteen minutes. Target engines and weapons—I want this ship mostly intact.”

“Aye Captain, weapons already powered back to sixty percent.”

Muller sat back in her command chair, and sighed quietly in satisfaction. The Alliance policy of splitting ships’ crews into all-male vs all-female was paying off for her—every woman on the ship was perfectly aligned with her, and she merely had to think about a particular course of action for it to be done.

Her comms officer wrinkled her brow in confusion. “Captain, the Imperium ship is sending out a broad-spectrum transmission, covering all the voice channels.”

“They’re trying to jam us?” Muller frowned. “No, that can’t be right. They won’t affect subspace transmissions with that.”

“Exactly, Captain. It’s not even particularly high powered. We can easily override it for the channels we need.

“Then why?.... What are they saying?”

Comms punched her controls. “Here you go, Captain.”

The bridge crew listened, perplexed, to the oscillating hum now coming from the bridge loudspeakers. There were clearly several layers of complexity within it, with high-pitched squeaks punctuating the rolling lower tones, and it wasn’t obviously repeating itself.

“A carrier for an encrypted message? But who’s listening?” Muller looked at Hines. “Tactical, are you sure we’re alone?”

Hines shrugged. “As far as any sensor can tell, it’s us, the Imperium ship, and our three raiders, Captain. If anything is hiding on the planet, it can’t be very big.” She triggered a re-scan, and waited for the result. “No, there really isn’t anything there.”

Muller glared at the tactical display. “I don’t like this. But I can’t see a threat there, so let’s continue to close. Tactical, keep your eyes peeled.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Had Muller been able to see the interior of Jensen’s raider, she might have changed her mind. Both Jensen and her co-pilot were staring straight ahead, minds completely hijacked by the signal. At every high-pitched squeak, their bodies made a small convulsion.

Both women fell back through time to a point seven months ago where they were secured to a table, minds scrambled by psychoactive drugs and sexual stimulation, gazing up at the Imperium’s “Aunt Em” as this same noise played through their heads and she whispered suggestions to them.

“You love what Aunty Em does to you, don’t you Alice? It makes you feel so good. So... fulfilled. Don’t you want this for all your friends?“

“Mmmmmm....” Andersen felt herself floating outside her body. “It’s soooo nice.”

“Your friends, Alice. You want this for them. You want them to come to Aunty Em.”

“Aunty Em...” Andersen whimpered as a particularly powerful stimulation surged through her body, accompanied by a high-pitched squeak in her ears.

“You can enjoy this with them, Alice. Just bring them to me. You’ll know what to do...”

Andersen shook her head. Her vision cleared, and she realized that she did indeed know what to do.

She delicately adjusted the position of the raider craft within the cruiser’s shields, and lined up her primary cannon with a groove in the cruiser’s rear. At precisely the correct instant, she fired a full barrage into the cruiser. In the five seconds it took to recharge, she repositioned her aim a little further along, and repeated the shot.

In Engineering, Lt Commander Kopel had adjusted her three plasma reactors for battle power, still well within their operational limits, and was studying the tactical display shared from the bridge. It was, therefore, a very rude surprise when white-hot lasers sliced through the engineering room, impacting directly on two of the reactors.

“Bridge! Impact in engineering...” The second volley breached reactor 3 and vented plasma throughout the space. Kopel dived behind a solid console, but her right leg trailed just long enough for a plasma jet to remove everything below her knee.

“Shut down all reactors!” she screamed, her eyes screwed shut in agony.

“All reactors down, aye.” Her ensign tripped the whole bank of emergency switches, and the plasma flares vanished as quickly as they’d arrived. The compartment suddenly sounded eerily quiet, with just the “pop” of cooling metal and the sizzle of suddenly exposed wiring. “Ma’am, all reactors are shut down.”

One of the engineering techs ran over, and played a fire extinguisher over Kopel. The bloom of superheated air from the plasma had ignited her uniform, and it took several seconds to suppress the flames properly. Kopel choked on the cold blast of air, but the flames were finally out. Then the second surge of pain arrive, and she curled up in reflex, tears leaking from her eyes.

The backup communication system squawked. “Engineering, report!”

Ensign Vor jumped in for her commander. “Ensign Vor here: Several hits in the engine space. We have shut down all reactors.”

“All? Dammit. Can we get any back on line, Ensign? What does Kopel think?”

“Commander Kopel is incapacitated, Captain. And, no, we can’t get anything back—one is fully breached already; the others will breach in seconds if we power them back on. It’s emergency power only, Captain, and I don’t know how long until we can bring anything else back. Days, likely.”

“Hours, Ensign. Get me something within hours.” Muller carefully did not ask after Kopel. If the news was bad, no sense sharing it with the whole bridge crew.

Vor gulped. “Aye, Captain.” She turned to her crew. “Assess reactors 1 and 2. Figure out which we can get online first, and fix it. Twenty percent power will do.”

“Yes, Ensign.”

The tech looking after Kopel attracted her attention. “Ma’am, the Commander needs serious medical assistance. I’ve given her a pain shot, but the burns are extensive.”

“Okay. Call for the Doc.” Vor returned to her console. “I have a ship to resuscitate.”

Muller ran her finger down the main display of her command console, now lit in ominous red light from the backup power and illumination system.

“No subspace comms... no weapons to light a firework... no propulsion... minimal life support.” She shook her head. “They knew exactly where to hit us.”

“But, who?” Hines had given up on her tactical display, and walked over to her Captain. “Captain, I swear to you, there was nothing behind us. The raiders were within our shields, and would have spotted anything our ship sensors might have missed.”

“The raiders...” Muller swore, and hit a transmit key. “Andersen from Muller.” She paused, but no response. “Andersen from Muller! Any raider crew, respond!”

There was nothing on the comms system but the hiss of the galactic background.

“If they hit us from there, ma’am, the raiders would also have been square in their sights,” Hines said, quietly.

Muller nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

The comms system pinged for her attention. “Captain, Doctor Fan here. I’m in Engineering with Lt Commander Kopel.”

Muller noted the careful phrasing, and lack of status update. “Go ahead, Doctor. What do you need?”

“Everyone here is running around the engineering space fixing things. Could you send four crew members to help me get the Commander to a bed?”

“Will do. Muller out.”

She frowned, and examined the tactical display closely, before beckoning over her 2ic, Commander Lia, to huddle.

“Lia, we have a problem. Without reactor power, we can’t heat the ship. Looking at where we are relative to this small sun, even when we’re in full illumination, our thermal equilibrium is going to be well below freezing, if my math is correct. Tell me I’ve got it wrong.”

Lia was silent for a few seconds. “Sorry, Captain. I would have to agree. Radiated heat is going to stabilize somewhere around minus twenty Centigrade.”

“Crap.” Muller hit her combadge again. “Captain to all crew. Consolidate on the bridge. Doc: bring your patients here too. Ops: bring rations and water. Weapons: raid living quarters for all the blankets and insulation you can carry.”

She turned to the bridge crew. “We hold the ship, we stay warm, we wait for rescue. Clear?”

“Aye, Captain!”

Twelve hours later, the ether was still undisturbed by comms transmissions. The cruiser drifted in space, slowly but inexorably radiating its remaining heat into the void.

The bridge had the superficial appearance of a sleep-over party. Bundles of blankets, and ripped sheets of thermal insulation, marked cocoons where two or three of the crew huddled together, striving to keep the now icy air out of their space.

Muller squatted next to her console, partly warmed by one of her crew either side of her, but the ice crystals at the edge of the display reminded her how cold she really was.

She looked over at Doctor Fan, attending to her patient. Finally catching the Doctor’s eye, she silently indicated the need to talk.

Fan pulled a blanket tighter around herself, and tiptoed over to squat next to her Captain. “Ma’am.”

Muller flicked a glance to Kopel, swaddled in blankets and padded with insulation. “How’s she doing?”

“It’s not good, Captain. Even with all the meds I can safely give her, there’s still a lot of pain. She needs proper emergency care, and soon. The only small mercy is that the cold is making her sleepy—but I’m worried that if she does sleep, she might not wake again.”

“Understood.” Muller looked around at the bridge. “What about the rest of us?”

Fan shook her head. “We’re not going to last a day, Captain. It’s like being in a commercial freezer. Despite the insulation, everyone is shivering—and when that stops, we’ll be in deep trouble.”

“Thank you, Doctor. Go look after Kopel, please.”

She looked down at her side to the small figure of Crewman Robinson, almost invisible under the blankets, and pressed up against her Captain. She felt the shivering as the desperate crewman nestled into her, hunting any kind of warmth.

“How are you doing, Crewman?” she asked, softly.

“So cold, Captain. And I’m so sleepy...”

“Keep those eyes open, Crewman. We just have to hang on for a little longer. Understand?”

“Aye aye... Captain...” She felt the young woman shake her head, trying to shed the heavy soporific blanket that was settling over her.

Muller cursed silently, and consulted the display for the thousandth time. No transmissions. Nothing in subspace. Where was the Alliance? Come to that, where was that damn Imperium destroyer?

The loudspeaker crackled into life: “Crew of this ship, please report to docking port D.”

Muller shook herself awake, and silently damned herself for falling asleep. What was this?

The loudspeaker again, with an unemotional female voice: “Crew of this ship, please report to docking port D for evacuation.”

Muller fumbled at the ice-covered console, pulling up the live ship’s status screen. Sure enough, port D was open. A ship of some kind was attached—no Alliance ID was showing.

She eased herself out from between the two shivering, near-insensible crewmen, and beckoned to Truc, her Chief of Security. “You’re with me.”

Truc looked dubious. “Captain... you shouldn’t come. I will go, but I can’t protect you by myself.”

“That’s an order, Chief. Come on.” Muller looked at Lia, who was still vaguely conscious. “Number One, you have the bridge.”

“Aye, Captain...” Lia pushed herself up, blinking in an effort to wake herself properly.

Muller and Truc exited the bridge, and moved briskly down the corridor. This was not so much about the urgency of the situation as it was about the temperature—all the bodies on the bridge had apparently kept it significantly warmer than the rest of the ship. There were patches of ice on the deck grating wherever vents blew moist air into it, and several times Muller and Truc nearly fell.

They cautiously rounded the last corner to find docking port D open, and four robots of a distinctive Imperium design patiently waiting.

“Please embark your crew on the evacuation ship,” requested the loudspeaker. “The robots will assist you.”

Truc looked at her Captain. “What do we do, ma’am? These robots aren’t armed. I could take them.”

A draught of warm air blew into the ship from the docking port, and both women inadvertently groaned in relief.

“But not their ship. It will be fully remote controlled. They know that we know that.” Muller was silent for a brief time. “We have no choice. We’ll be dead within the day if we stay. Assemble the crew here.”

Truc nodded, and gracefully pivoted before running back to the bridge.

Ten minutes later, the shivering crew was gathered outside the docking port. Kopel had been carefully carried down in her wraps, and gently placed on the deck while the crew waited to see how this would all play out.

The loudspeaker chimed. “Please enter the port, one at a time. Take nothing with you. Thank you.”

The crew looked at each other; nobody seemed keen to be the first one through.

Finally, Crewman Robinson stepped forward, trying to hold back the rattling of her teeth. “I’ll go, Captain.”

Muller nodded her silent assent.

Robinson walked towards the robots. One turned to face her.

“Please present your hands to the robot,” the loudspeaker requested, politely.

Robinson did so, and the robot promptly fastened wrist cuffs on the crewman. A second robot briefly pressed a device across Robinson’s mouth, and the crewman found that it left an adhesive gag firmly attached.

“Please enter the docking port. Next crew member.”

Robinson crossed the open airlock, finding herself in a short corridor. The surge of warm air nearly made her cry in relief, but she held herself together, cautiously continuing until the corridor opened into a much larger, dimly-lit room. Here, several rows of benches featured, but little else.

Robinson was surprised to find people already here; four women were seated at one bench, hands bound, and gagged like herself. It was immediately obvious that they were four of the ship’s raider crew, though there was no sign of the two others. She tried to wave her hand in greeting, but the cuffs made the gesture rather terse, so she quickly gave up, and sat down next to the women.

Other crew filed in, one at a time. After the biting cold of the cruiser, the relative warmth of this room was soporific, and twice Robinson caught herself in a jerk just as she was drifting off to sleep. With great effort, she focused her eyes back on the room and tried to count how many of the crew had come in. She had to fight with her brain, which had apparently given up on awareness of her surroundings, and just wanted to power off.

Commander Lia was one of the last of the crew to enter; she went straight for two raider crews as soon as she spotted them, and conducted what, in other circumstances, might have seemed a bizarre game of charades. Robinson managed to figure out from context that Lia was asking about the third crew, but it seemed that either the others didn’t know, or that they were unable to communicate the subtleties of their status.

Captain Muller was the last to arrive, following two robots who carried the mostly insensible form of Lt Commander Kopel. She seated herself next to the injured officer’s head, and looked around the compartment. Apparently satisfied, she nodded at a couple of officers, then stared straight ahead, apparently at nothing.

Robinson didn’t know what it was like being a captain whose ship had been shot out from underneath them, but was sure it wasn’t a fun feeling.

A loudspeaker in the room chimed once. “We are now departing. Transit time is twenty-three minutes.” There were a series of solid “clunks” as the docking port closed, then a brief sensation of motion that vanished as quickly as it came.

The silence of the room, with so many people present, was eerie. Even a repositioning of oneself on the bench was audible. After a few minutes, there came one or two quiet snores, as exhausted crew succumbed to the seductive warmth of the room, and slumped against their neighbor.

Robinson rallied herself, self-conscious about how it might look to the raider officers if she gave in to the fingers of sleep clawing at her, and focused on a systematic program of flexing her muscles throughout her body. Taking her time, she hadn’t quite reached as far as her neck when the loudspeaker chimed again, announcing “Arriving in three minutes.”

The room stirred, with the sleeping crew being abruptly jolted to waking by their neighbors. The officers were all alert, their eyes scanning the room and paying particular attention to the four robots which were currently impassive features at the corners of the room.

There was another transient sensation of motion, then more mechanical noises indicated some kind of connection being established from the ship.

“Welcome to Transit!” The sudden cheeriness from the loudspeaker was disconcerting. “Please wait to disembark.”

Two robots picked up Kopel, and exited the craft. The other two formed a guard by the docking port exit.

“Please exit one at a time. Enlisted crew first.”

The crew nearest the exit exchanged looks, then one of them rose to her feet. Motioned through the gate by the robots, she disappeared down the docking tunnel.

Every thirty seconds or so, the robots indicated for another crew member to go. Robinson ended up being about fifteenth in line. As she walked down the docking tunnel, she looked around for any clues as to where they were, but there were no obvious viewing ports to outside.

The docking tunnel terminated at a large hallway. Several squads of robots stood around, and beckoning her out with a smile were two women, blonde, in white tunics.

“Please step out, my dear.” One of the women pointed to a thick arch, just beyond the docking port. “Walk through here, slowly, if you’d be so kind.”

Robinson did so. As she passed under the arch, she heard a buzzing and her skin felt warm. Without any warning, all of her clothing detached at its seams, and fell on the floor. She stopped in surprise.

“Please keep going—just over there, with the others.” She looked up and, indeed, the other crew were standing in a group at the side, all naked. She self-consciously made her way over to them. Fortunately, the hall was comfortably warm.

With nothing else to do, she watched the arrival of the remaining enlisted. Security Chief Truc was last to come through, and seemed reluctant to pass the arch. When she finally did, her clothes fell off to reveal that she had a two-foot-long breaker bar taped between her shoulders.

“Oh, dear.” One of the women shook her head, and indicated for two robots to come over. “Please take the young lady to Cooperation. I’m sure Lucinda will want to talk with her.”

The robots removed the bar, then took Truc firmly by the arms and marched her away, down a long corridor.

“Now, the officers, please!” called the other woman.

The remaining crew came out quickly, this time sent to a different group, on the other side of the hallway, though all equally naked. Robinson tried to avert her eyes; somehow, it seemed more wrong to see her officers naked than her fellow enlisted.

The older of the two women clapped their hands for attention. “Hello, everybody! The Imperium would like to welcome you to our ship. It’s always lovely to have guests, isn’t it, Agatha?”

“Quite so,” confirmed Agatha. “We’re sure that you’ll have nothing to complain about with regard to our hospitality. We’d like each of you to feel like one of us.”

“Exactly!” The older woman gestured to the group of enlisted. “Now, if you ladies would like to go with our robot guides, they will take you to get ready.” She turned to the officers. “And, would the captain please like to identify herself?”

There was a pause, then Muller stepped forward, eyes leveled at the two women.

“Wonderful. Aunt Em would like to see you directly. The robots will escort you.” She turned to the rest of the officers. “Please wait here for a few moments.”

Muller followed the two robots down a corridor, casting a look back over her shoulder to see her enlisted crew being led off like a herd of sheep down the other side of the hallway. She didn’t know who this “Aunt Em” was, but was looking forward to being able to exchange words with her.

Robinson was glad that the deck was properly paved, rather than just being grating like so much of her cruiser’s spaces, but they had been walking for a while and her bare feet were starting to ache. Fortunately, the robots were not moving quickly, so she did not have to struggle to keep up.

They descended a ramp, then another one, and headed back in the approximate direction they’d come. She tried to figure out how big the ship might be. It was certainly more spacious than the Imperium destroyer they’d been hunting. What was it for?

Finally, they stopped outside an open pair of doors. Another two women were waiting for them, this time in blue tunics.

“Hello, hello!” one of them chirped. “Thank you for coming.”

As if we had a choice, Robinson grumped silently.

“We’re going to start your training now. Can we please take you in, one at a time, to get you ready.”

The other woman indicated Robinson. “Why don’t we start with you, my dear? Come on in.”

A robot firmly pushed the reluctant Robinson through the doors. She looked around to see thirty to forty seats, which looked quite comfortable, arranged in several rows. At the back of each one was a metal framework, placed around head level.

The woman indicated one of the seats and the robot pushed Robinson down into it. It unlocked her wrist cuffs, but before she could react, hoops slid out of the chair and encircled her arms, legs and torso before pulling them tight against the chair.

The robot unfastened her gag, and the woman offered her some water.

“You must be thirsty, my dear. Have a drink.”

She was correct, and Robinson couldn’t help but swig most of the small bottle.

“Now, let’s get you started.” The woman started to adjust the metal framework, sliding it around and fastening it onto Robinson’s head. Robinson felt cold metal pads press hard against her temples, and just behind her ears.

Apparently satisfied, the woman smiled at Robinson and pressed a button. The room vanished.

All that Robinson could now see was a slowly changing series of bright colors, floating across her vision. There was very faint music in her ears. Confused, she closed her eyes—but the colors remained. She opened and closed her eyes again. No matter what she did, no matter how tightly she squeezed her eyes shut, the colors remained in her vision.

She could still feel the chair around her, but the restraints gave her no freedom of movement. All she could do was to stare at the slowly changing colorscape, and wonder what was going on.

Experimentally, she tried speaking. She could feel her jaw and tongue moving, but no sound seemed to come out—even when she tried what should have been a scream, it was completely inaudible.

With very few other options, she tried to relax. Her body and mind were exhausted, and this should have been an excellent opportunity to rest—but though her eyes were closed, the constant low-level stimulation seemed to keep her awake. There was no drifting off to sleep; rather, the oscillating colors seemed to fill her mind and awareness.

It didn’t take long before the hallucinations started. She was certain that her mother had just spoken to her, though it was unclear what she had said. Faces of current and past crew started to appear at the side of her vision, as her confused mind tried to fill in the blanks. The passing of time became opaque, and she couldn’t tell if she’d been in the chair for ten minutes, or for days. The only occasional clue was when someone squirted water in her mouth, timed to be just as she started developing a thirst.

Gradually the hallucinations became more and more vivid. Her mind was trying desperately to dream, but the stimulation disrupted the normal process. It felt as if her whole brain were being scrambled by an egg whisk.

When the vision suddenly cut out, and she was staring into the smiling face of her host again, she almost cried with relief.

“Please, please let me sleep,” she whimpered. “I’m so very tired. I don’t know what’s happening...”

“Of course, my dear, of course.” The woman gently patted her on the shoulder. “I think you’re quite ready now for your programming. Let’s see... ah, yes, program 34-A.” She tapped on a data pad. “Just relax for me.”

The chair took over her vision again, but this time it was with a slowly spinning black and white spiral, that seemed to spin faster as she looked towards its center. In the background, a woman’s voice was murmuring in her ears.

“Follow the spiral, round and round... sleep in its center will be found. Open your mind to let us in... come on down and be one of our kin...”

Exhausted, she was only barely aware of something closing across her chest, pressing against her small breasts, and something else between her legs that was positioned on her pubic mound.

In the center of the spiral, a woman’s smiling face appeared. She blew a kiss, apparently directly at Robinson, and then turned to face another woman who had appeared. The two women locked their lips together, and started to make out. Simultaneously, Robinson gasped as something started to vibrate around her clit, and a strong sucking started at her nipples.

Unable to look away, Robinson was inexorably drawn to the image of the women, who were now starting to kiss each others’ breasts, and slide their fingers between thighs. The stimulation was slowly ramping up, and she groaned in desire and confusion.

Back in the room, the supervising woman observed the physical reactions of Robinson, and smiled. Training was starting just as designed. She looked forward to evaluating its effect for the small woman—personally.

Captain Muller had been let to a small holding area, and walked into a cell. The gag and cuffs had been removed, but her freedom barely increased; the cell was tiny, only four feet on a side, with a small bench that jutted out from the wall. Lacking any other option, she sat on it, staring at the blank door ahead of her, while she replayed the destroyer encounter and aftermath in her mind. Could she have done anything differently? Should they have risked staying on the ship, in hope for an Alliance rescue? What had happened to Jensen and Andersen’s raider?

She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there, when the door suddenly turned transparent. Standing outside was an older woman, maybe fifty, smiling at her. Confusingly, she was wearing a pink silk bathrobe, and fluffy slippers.

“Hello, Captain. My name is Emantheum, but you can call me Aunty Em.”

Muller rose slowly to her feet, and drew herself to attention. “Muller, Katherine. Captain, Alliance Space Force. Serial number 3982729-AX.”

Em shook her head, still smiling. “Oh, my dear Captain. Or can I call you Katherine? Katie, maybe? Katie, this isn’t a formal meeting. I’ve just come to say ‘hello’.”

She did something by the side of Muller’s cell. A small pass-through opened on Muller’s side, revealing a plastic cup full of red liquid.

“Would you be so good as to drink this for me, Katie?” Em kept smiling, but her eyes locked on Muller’s. Muller read the message loud and clear, and it wasn’t a request. This, however, did not seem like a hill to die on.

Obliging, she picked up the cup and sipped at the liquid. It was somewhat sweet, but not unpleasantly slow. She downed the rest of it, and returned the cup.

“Lovely! Well, I’ll be back in a bit. We’re going to have a lovely girly chat, my dear.” With that, the door transparency turned off, and Muller returned to her seat.

So, that was Aunt Em. Muller didn’t know what to make of her, other than that there was clearly some steel hidden behind that fluffy exterior. Well, she would find that Alliance officers had plenty of steel in them, too.