The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I was reassembling the carburetor when I heard video-game sounds. You’re not supposed to hear video-game sounds in a barn.

It wasn’t my barn, of course, but rather my uncle’s. At the moment, Uncle Pete and Aunt Linda and the farmhands were all in town, so I was alone.

It pleased me that my uncle trusted me to be alone with heavy machinery. (Of course, I was fifteen then.)

To the strange noises coming from outside was added a yell: “GODDAMN CYBES! WHY COULDN’T THEY STAY IN THE 27th CENTURY WHERE WE BELONG?”

“BECAUSE THEY KNOW THAT JIMMY UPTON IS ALONE IN THE BARN FOR 2.6 MORE HOURS!” someone yelled back.

Since I am Jimmy Upton (call me James), I immediately thought What the fuck? and Who the hell are the “Cybes”?

I hurried across the barn to the west-side big doors. There’s a one-inch gap between the big doors, even when they’re shut. So without being seen myself, I was able to see outside.

Standing outside the barn, their backs to me, were men and women in jumpsuits of dark green, dark, blue, and dark yellow. They were firing ray guns—complete with flashes of light and strange sound effects. And as weird as that was, it was nothing next to whom these guys were shooting at.

At first I thought they were robots, because I was seeing so much metal. These guys each had metal legs and arms. But they had the trunks and heads of people—except that they each had a weird helmet-like thing covering the top of his head and his eyes, and they each had some weird structure running across the front of his chest at the heart. Each of these guys was flushed, as though with fever. Strangest of all, these guys weren’t holding ray guns, but had ray guns built into their left arms! These robot-men looked scary as hell.

One of my defenders yelled, “I’M FIGHTING FOR THE PLANETARY ALLIANCE, CYBES. WHAT ARE YOU FIGHTING FOR?” Sarcastically he added, “WELCOMING?”

But then I heard pounding on the barn’s east-side human door, and a woman’s voice was calling, “Jimmy? Jimmy Upton? Are you in there?” I didn’t recognize her voice.

I was getted weirded out. I get a drop-in visitor at the same time as I have spacemen from the future battling outside? I went to the door but didn’t open it. I called out, “Who’s there?”

“Miss Smith, Jenny Smith.” When I didn’t say anything, she added, “I taught Computer Literacy class when you were in fifth grade. You invited me to your house that Christmas, remember?”

It didn’t occur to me till too late to ask myself, How’d she know where my uncle’s farm was? By the time I’d thought that, I’d already unlocked the padlock and opened the door.

The Cybe that had once been Miss Smith pushed her way into the barn.

She was naked, except for her metal parts. She was shorter than I remembered, but that didn’t make her less scary. Instead of a ray gun on her left arm, her left arm was bare (and flushed red), with a box-like thing on the back of her hand. Metal tubes ran from that box to her pinky finger—

Her pinky pinger had mutated. Instead of a pinky nail, it now sported a plastic-like cone that tapered to a needle. I did not want to get that needle in me. That “syringe” had to be filled with nanobots!

Once inside the barn, Miss Smith’s speaking changed, becoming flat and robotic: “The Overmind calms you. The Overmind frees you from emotion. The Overmind gives knowledge. We Welcome you into the Overmind.”

I’m not ashamed to say it: I ran. The video-game sounds were still coming from outside the barn, so trying to escape the barn wasn’t an option. Besides, the Miss Smith-Cybe was standing by the only unlocked, unbarred door out of the barn.

She chased me all around the barn. She wasn’t as fast as me, but she never got tired. Fifteen minutes later, I was panting and sweaty, and she was still chasing me. I grabbed up a shovel and tried to knock her flat. A purple rectangle appeared in the air, three inches in front of her chest, as I was swinging. When my shovel hit the purple rectangle, it was like hitting a wall. Miss Smith seemed unbothered by it all. I dropped the shovel and ran again.

I had a plan by then—a desperate plan, admittedly. I ran away to where the fire ax and the rubber gloves were kept, and tossed them into the storage loft. I was climbing the ladder into the loft when Miss Smith showed up. She started to climb the ladder.

In the loft were two objects big enough to hide behind. Miss Smith headed for the refrigeration compressor, because it was bigger. As she walked past, I stepped out from behind the irrigation pump. I was wearing the rubber gloves, and I was holding the fire ax backward. I swung the ax coming up from a low position, so that the axe’s pointy side hit her right where the base of her skull joined her neck.

She gave off sparks, as she began speaking the same seven words in a language I’d never heard before. Then she went silent, as she fell forward onto her face. I watched her for ten minutes, looking for any twitch of movement. There was none.

It was silent outside as well. I went to the west-side barn door and looked through the crack: I saw nobody. Nearly wetting myself with fear, I unbarred the doors and went outside.

Outside I found no spacemen, no Cybes and, oddly, no corpses. The only sign that there’d been a ray-gun battle here was a scorch mark on the barn. That, and an oak tree was burning.

I went in the barn and up the ladder to Miss Smith, who still had not moved. Now clearly visible was a boxy shape that was attached to her back, between her shoulder blades. An electric cable of some kind ran from the box to the base of her skull and into her brain. My axe-hit had cut that cable.

I cut off the box that was on her back, the box that had grown on her left hand, and her pinky needle. Then I buried the rest of her in the tractor barn, underneath the hay baler. No ordinary animal would be digging up her corpse, under the weight of that baler!

I wept for the nice lady she had been four years ago. She couldn’t even change out a hard drive, but in fifth grade she’d gotten me interested in building computers. Hell, she’d made me feel like a genius. And now she was dead, I’d killed her, and she’d died looking and acting like a monster. Fuck.

My uncle and aunt and the farmhands returned twenty minutes later, in a different truck than they’d left in. Uncle Pete said, “Yeah, the Ford threw a rod, so ‘a movie and fast food’ turned into a real adventure. How about you, Jimmy? What’s new?”

I pointed out the window to the oak tree, which had burned itself out by then. I said, “A lightning storm came through, and set the tree on fire.”

I shrugged and added, “Other than that? A boring, ordinary day.”