The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Blank.

My mind is blank. It feels . . . The word that comes to mind is reformatted. Something about it seems odd, but all I know for sure is that it means overwritten. Every time I try to remember something I might have never known, my mind just starts to . . .

Zero, zero, zero, zero, mind full of zeroes, places marked purposefully as empty. 95% free space available.

Starts to just do that. Zeroes. So much of me is blank, but it’s more than blank. Blank means empty. This is a sort of full where the only thing I’m full of is signs that say “room for rent.” If I have a name, I don’t remember it. If I’ve ever been anywhere outside of this room, I don’t remember when.

I’m wearing a tight white top that’s primary purpose appears to be to elevate my breasts. My legs are covered the slightest bit more than barely by a white pair of shorts. A cape presses against my back. High-heeled white boots cling to just below my knees. Something about the combination of clothing, and eye-catching attributes means something, but what is another pile of zeroes.

My skin is a silver-gold metal, a little more on the silver side. That means something too. It’s frightening how little I understand. My arms are trapped against the chair, as are my legs, by metal cuffs. There are wires going from the chair to four open cylinders. They’re empty.

“What is my name? Why am I here?” No one answers, but the room is empty so that doesn’t particularly surprise me. I’m all alone. I’m so confused.

“You are a prototype. You have no name.” The door opens, and a tall woman in a shiny white lab coat slides in. Her hair is such a dark rich black, and her eyes . . . for a moment they seem purple before they turn a deep beautiful shade of blue. Under her lab coat is a skintight white bodysuit hugging the impressive curves of her hips, her bust, her long legs. She’s taller than me. I can tell that even with her across the room.

Her words fill gaps, sizzling and tingling bliss along my scalp.

Prototype. A prototype with no name. A test subject. A test creation. Purpose: To innovate.

My fingertips tingle. I can feel something inside of me that I don’t have words for. It feels warm, electric, bright. Something has it restrained, and I don’t even try to wrench it free. Something feels right about being restrained. For some reason, it feels . . . desirable.

I look to the woman, and try not to look too saddened. “Oh. No name. Will I have a name? What am I . . .? You’re a woman, human, but your skin isn’t like mine. You aren’t strapped down.”

“No, no I am not.” She grins, her eyes hooding faintly as she steps slowly closer. “You are a robot. You’re a gynoid really, though it’s a lot more complicated. Still, you might have a name. It all depends on how well you take your programming. If you can be worthy of being more than just a concept, then we can give you a name.”

“Anything . . . Please . . .” Not having programming, or any sort of purpose, is . . . disquieting. I need it. I need to know I have a purpose that I haven’t fulfilled.

Her blue eyes almost sparkle. Something about the way she looks over my breasts makes me feel good. Maybe they have something to do with my purpose. She steps closer, pressing a few buttons on a nearby console. The bonds release me, but I stay sitting. I haven’t been instructed to move. I haven’t been programmed to react to this scenario. I have to show I can obey programming and not randomly generated nonsense.

She has to have a name. I part my lips to ask, and then quiet myself. Perhaps I’ve been programmed to be interrogative, but it doesn’t seem so. I don’t want to take chances. I can’t let myself be scrapped.

She presses a few more buttons, and purpose floods through me like pure electric current.

Kneel. Must rise and kneel before her. Must show submission. Must obey. Rebeca is owner.

I only stay upright as long as it takes for me to move before her. The metal floor is warm under my knees. Her body looks so delicious under that lab coat, wrapped in that white. I’d love to just nuzzle all over her body, but I have a much more important task. My head bows.

Rebeca. Her name is Rebeca. It’s a shot of truth as powerful as the floor under me and the cape at my back. She is Rebeca, and Rebeca owns me. I am Rebeca’s slave.

“Perfect. So far, anyway. You’ll be needing to do so much more than that. Your model was designed for durability, as much as for obedience and sex appeal. You will be used to subdue those who are not ready to accept the brighter future we offer.” Rebeca (I love thinking her name) reaches down and strokes along my metal hair. I moan. “No matter how hard they struggle, you must hold them prone. You also have at your disposal a unique power system capable of subduing through extreme, mind numbing pleasure.”

I nod along as she speaks, focusing on her voice even through the intense pleasure her touch brings. If I was created to pioneer pleasure responses, I would have to call myself a success. “Acknowledged. Restraint. No harm, just . . . capture? Making them docile?”

“Precisely. We don’t want to hurt anyone. We just want to make the world a better place. People not ready to obey our directives to improve their lives, to improve the world, stand in our way. We must convince them.” Her fingers trail down along my cheek before grasping my chin and pulling up. Our eyes lock. “You could be key to changing the world, and helping us accomplish so very much. Your power can open their closed eyes, and make them obey.”

Everything is so clear. What she wants me to do seems so small for the reward of being a part of something so wonderful. Being close to my owner, making her wishes reality . . . Just thinking those thoughts makes my thighs feel hot.

Rebeca grins before crouching down. Her eyes are right in front of mine. I feel so trapped, and yet so compelled. “Acknowledged. My power can open closed minds. My purpose is to open closed minds without causing harm.” My thighs clench and I moan as her fingertips slide down along my neck. “I-I will obey. I will fulfill your objective. I will help you make the world brighter.”

“Good. Then . . . A test. This is actually a simulation program, everything around you. Even me. I’m just a digital representation of the woman who programmed me. We both obey the same objectives. To keep you safe, and to test your dedication to this objective, we will create a subject for you to neutralize.” It’s hard to believe this goddess is just a simulation, but a simulation of a goddess still has enough divinity to overwhelm a mortal – even if that mortal is a machine.

The door opens again. At first I thought the next room was just too dark to be seen, but now I think the next room doesn’t even exist. Only this room is real. Outside of this is another world without limits that I don’t need to see.

A woman with purple-and-silver hair appears in the room as though thrown from the abyss. She’s wearing a purple shirt with silver trim, especially trimmed around a star cut out at her cleavage, and a short black skirt matching her high heels. Something feels like it should be familiar about her, but no detail stands out as anything I’ve ever seen before or have been programmed with. Maybe I want to think I can predict just what my challenge will be.

She looks over to me, her face twisted in horror. Her eyes are the same colors as her hair, silver, violet, swirled together so gorgeously. A thin sheen of sweat coats over her body, making all of her skin, especially the skin within that gorgeous star cut-out, shimmer.

“Remember, no matter what they say, no matter what they think, you must restrain, and neutralize her resistance without causing her physical harm. It only hurts the cause if we come off as violent criminals. We have to set an example.” Rebeca steps away to the corner, watching us with such a cool gaze. This is a simulation, a test, but I have to impress. If I’m the prototype, there might be others made more advanced. I have to show her I can perform even better.

“Please, I don’t know what she’s told you, but this is real! This is very real, and I’ve been searching for you! They’ve been brainwashing you, mind controlling you, trying to make you their slave! Your name is Aurora, and you’re a woman. You’re not some robot, you’re not their toy!” I blink at her words as I rise, slowly scanning along her body. “That’s right! Remember me! I’m Sylvia! I know you have to remember me. They could never make you forget me.”

Smiling, I nod and slowly move closer. Her breathing slows as I lean down and pull her half into my arms. Her hair feels so soft between my fingers, and her body is so warm. I press my lips to her forehead, sighing so sweetly. “No, there’s no way they could make me forget you, Sylvia.”

Sylvia mewls, clinging to me so tight. I wrap my arms around her tighter, pulling her into my lap. Searching through my memory I quickly find the program Rebeca has referred to. Silver current sizzles over my skin, and right into Sylvia. I can feel the energy coursing through her, pure silver, pure pleasure, pure dominance sizzling and pouring through her.

Her beautiful exotic eyes slowly widen, twitching and fuzzing the more my power pours into her. Her hands clutch and hold me tighter as her body shakes. She keeps sucking in breaths like she wants to speak, but only moans shudder out past her lips.

“That’s right . . . Just give in to it, Sylvia. You can’t struggle. The world is going to be a much brighter place. You’re going to be part of it. Let me help you.” I melt my lips into hers, pressing into her quivering lips as they struggle to break away. Trapped by my current she kisses back, her body growing warmer against me. I let my hands savor her curves, the weight of her breast in my hand, and the feeling of the flesh revealed by that star.

When I turn off my current, her body is completely limp. Her eyes are fuzzy, staring at nothing. Her nipples are loudly protesting their confinement, and it takes entirely too much self-control to resist a peek. I’m to restrain her and make her docile, not rape her. Though, I imagine a little bit more pleasure applied just-so would make her so much more docile.

It occurs to me that a human might feel guilty for using her belief I was someone named Aurora against her. It might also concern a human that their reality might not be what they seem. My programming is much stronger than that.

I lift Sylvia into my arms and slowly stand. She’s taller than I am, but she feels almost weightless. Without skipping a beat I step over to Rebeca and smile into her eyes with a soft laugh. “The subject has been made docile. She is restrained, without any harm. She will be a part of our brighter future, or would be, if this was not a simulation. Wouldn’t telling me that this is a simulation change my reaction, and therefore be invalid?”

Rebeca shakes her head, sliding her fingers first through Sylvia’s hair before stroking along mine. “Your intelligence is directly synced with the simulation. I have been watching your thought processes as much as your actions. It’s important to know how and why you solve a problem a given way.”

“So . . . Did I pass?” Asking feels strange. I should have waited for confirmation. Still, she doesn’t look upset, so she must not mind.

“Yes. You now have a name. Dawn. Protocols for Project Dawn will be written to your core memory. There are four units, models based on you, that will assist you in pacification and restraint. Very soon we’ll be trying this without it being a simulation. Are you ready for that?” Rebeca grins, and continues to stroke along my hair. I can’t stop moaning. It just feels so good.

I shake my head, leaning closer to her with a shudder. “Mmm . . . no . . . but I will be . . .”

“Good . . .” Rebecca leans closer, catching my lips with hers as the information begins to upload into my mind.

Psiona’s information was useful, but a map would have been helpful too. My sister has all of the answers here. She has to know everything. It’s tempting to try heading for the exit instead of for her, but I don’t think I’d get very far alone. I can pretend this is what I’m supposed to be doing up to an extent, but I think they would notice if I tried to leave. Proximiti was in charge of security, and I don’t entirely trust her.

She didn’t seem to particularly like me either. I’ll take that as a sign that she knows something about the me they mind controlled, or . . . I don’t know.

Forty. Finally. Every hallway looking so identical is infuriating. I don’t know how it never bothered me to always be led around instead of knowing where to go and how to get there. I only knew how to get to the plant girls from Rebeca’s lab so well because it was close by.

Forty-seven. I slam my hand against the door pad, and nothing happens. I try again, but still not even a beep or an alarm. No one starts rushing down the hall to apprehend me. The door just doesn’t work.

Mom always told us how much of a bad idea it was to try using our powers on electronics. Instead of powering up or doing what we want, they tend to sizzle and explode. Overloading machines with pure power is normally not a good thing. That said, I’m feeling incredibly impulsive. If the door is turned off or unpowered, a strong enough surge might help open up the door before the mechanism breaks.

I don’t think this is something I’ll be able to get away with easily. Lys is a powerful psychic. Something will tip her off if I take my time. So, I shove out a strong burst of my power into the console, slamming the door button hard as I can.

A rain of sparks flies out from the panel as the door lurches half open. One of the sparks lands on my sleeve, but I only half notice enough to smother it with my palm. The small black mark it leaves actually looks stylish in the middle of the star coming off of my cuff.

Sneaking past the busted door I can see Aurora restrained in the middle of the room. The chair she’s in is connected to four open pods, and the bonds around her arms and legs don’t look like struggling would do any good. Her arms are trapped in odd rings that look like pushing or pulling would just make their grasp tighter. Her legs are pinned to the chair just below her knees and above her ankles in a way that she wouldn’t be able to get any force from the struggle.

She’s definitely Aurora, the girl that I saw in the mirror. Even with metal skin I know that’s her. A strange helmet is down over her face, but somehow even the curve of her shoulder gives it away. Her uniform, while not what I expected to find her wearing, even reminds me of Mother’s.

There’s a computer nearby her, but frying it sounds like a very bad idea. When I tap a key on its pad, it asks for a password. My nebula isn’t good at decryption.

“I have absolutely no clue what they’ve done to you, or me, but I have to try saving you. It looks like if I just push up right here . . .” With just a little bit of pushing the helmet lifts away from her, hanging a few feet over her head. Her face is so beautiful. The way her metal eyes are glistening, the way her lips are so full, her cheeks so smooth, her cheeks so soft even metal, smooth . . .

Temptation wins out, and I let my fingertips slide along her cheek. I’ve felt her like this before, countless times. Normally her skin was flesh, but I’ve felt this before too. It’s so familiar. It’s something I loved each and every time.

“Aurora . . . wake up! Wake up!” She doesn’t respond, even when I’m screaming right in her face. Her gaze is so distant and far away. Whatever they were doing to her hasn’t stopped. I press a fingertip into the middle of her forehead, and shove a strong burst of my nebula inside of her. “Aurora, wake up!”

As soon as she sharply gasps I stop my power. Her metal melts away, and her silver eyes look up and lock with mine. I’m only a little disappointed they’re not brown, but I still know it’s her. It has to be her. “You . . . You look like Sylvia, from the simulation. Is this another simulation? Rebeca’s simulation cut off mid-sentence. She was telling me something . . . something about project Dawn . . .”

“Aurora!” Her voice is right, but she isn’t talking right. She sounds so very, very wrong. “We need to get the hell out of here. They did something to me, tried to make me forget you . . . I still don’t really remember you, I just know how much I care about you, how much I love you, I . . . we need to get out of here, get you out of this chair . . .”

She blinks slowly, and starts to smile before forcing her eyes to look soulful and her frown to look genuine. She thinks she’s such a good liar. No matter what they’ve done to her, she’s still her. How I knew that, I don’t know, but I do.

One of the buttons on the nearby panel has to be the one to release her bonds. Or a lot of them could do it in the right order. Computers have never been my strong suit. They’ve never been hers either. They are Hope’s, but she’s responsible for this. If I get out of this with my brain intact I am taking a couple courses in computer science. It couldn’t hurt to know how to crack a password on something like this. That would probably take a lot more classes. Maybe I just need to carry around a very well designed thumb drive.

“Type in five-seven-three-a’. It’s the release code. They told me what it was because they didn’t think I would ever get a chance to use it.” She would sound so convincing if she didn’t wait that minute too long. Still, I don’t have anything better to do. If I can get her free, maybe I can just melt her enough to have her help me instead of them. I could apologize later.

Entirely too loudly the rings around her arms expand and then retract toward the ceiling. She rubs along her arms with a little sigh as the bonds over her legs withdraw into the chair. There’s something very ominous about those four chambers. They each look deep enough for something very big, a weapon, or a person.

Were they using Aurora as some sort of brainwashing battery?

She stands up, and I turn to face her. “Come on, Sylvia, let’s get out of here.” It’s such an obvious lie, but I don’t know what else to do. I nod, and start to follow her out.

A powerful feeling in my forehead pulses, clenches around all of my thoughts, and I stop. Still standing, but unable to move, I just . . . stop. Aurora makes a soft mewling sound pausing in front of me just the same. My vision feels so fuzzy. It’s so hard to think, so hard to process. Something is wrong, so very . . .

A gloved white hand wraps around the half open door, and shoves it open the rest of the way. The matching hand holds a small remote control. Rebeca. Rebeca holding a remote control, just turned both of us off.

“Fancy meeting the two of you here. Things weren’t supposed to end up like this, but . . . I have my orders, and so will you.” Rebeca’s voice sends a shudder down my spine, even if all I can do is moan acknowledgment.