The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Unit 9, activate Jaina routines with ten percent priority. Adjust vision to me, lock physical settings. Comply.” Melisande’s crisp and authoritative voice calls out over the dull hum of electronic sounds swelling around me. I’m not in Doctor O’Ferrall’s room anymore, but that doesn’t surprise me. “Oh, and turn off Jaina’s sass mouth subroutines. It’s bad enough I almost wiped out her entire personality to get her to stop yelling the last time. Comply. If you’re too slow, I’ll just wipe you anyway. You’re almost just not worth the minimal amount of troubles you’ve given me so far. I could always program your mind around Jessica.”

The rush of consciousness jolts me like an orbital collision. I would topple over if I had any control of my body besides my face. My body feels confined only to my head, but I know that’s not right. I can feel more of me, it just feels . . . blocked off. Only a small part of my brain even seems to acknowledge my presence. I’m imprisoned within my own body and mind.

Not even all of my own face is under my control! She has my eyes locked on her. Melisande, the woman who did this to me, is the absolute last woman in the world I want to see right now! She’s already disabled them if she made me robotic enough to shoot laser beams from my eyes, but that doesn’t hold back my glare.

My captor, with those big green but almost black eyes, simply grins at me. At least she’s cute. She probably wouldn’t look so short to me if I weren’t tall. Now is really not the time to be developing an attraction to a criminal, though. “Ah Unit 9, oh please forgive me, Jaina, welcome back to the world of the thinking. I don’t know how long we’ll actually let you think this time, but I thought it would be nice to let you peek out for at least a bit.”

I can feel her laughter making the parts of me I no longer control tense. I’m betraying myself, and no force of will is going to change that in the least. I’m not sure I even want to know what she did to me.

“You did play Jessica ever so well, it won’t be hard to get Unit 9 to play at being Jaina once we’re done with today’s session. It’s a shame Unit 0 had to have a conscience. Her model is drastically inferior to yours, in no small part due to inferior hardware. No worries. I think after you, I can streamline the process.” She taps a finger to my forehead, grinning the faintest bit more. “Your hard drive has been gathering so much useful data on the robotic human condition. Unit 0’s purely organic programming can’t hold a candle to yours. You . . . are an ultraviolet bulb brighter than the sun. My greatest achievement . . .”

“You . . .” I want to call her a monster, or a bitch, or make some comment about how elves can’t take over the world, but . . . I just can’t. Something freezes me up every time. I didn’t want to believe that she can turn off my ability to be insulting, but apparently she can. Apparently she can do anything to me that she wants.

Having a hard drive in your head is becoming pretty normal, but I never wanted one. I wanted to keep the inside of my head safe from glitches or programming bugs, but she had one installed anyway and I don’t even remember it. A surgery like that takes awhile to heal, which makes me wonder how much I don’t remember.

“What the hell did you do to me . . . ?” I want to yell or scream, but I’m too scared. At the edge of my consciousness I can feel tears brimming, but it feels like my consciousness doesn’t have the system resources to make tears, much less to actually cry. I feel really special right now.

“I made you more cooperative. Well, I think that’s what you were asking about anyway. Would you like me to detail all that I’ve done just to your mind? The hundreds of simultaneously running programs in your implants would take far too long to explain, so I wouldn’t even bother with those. They really aren’t worth the time to detail anyway. It’s not like Jaina could understand them. Even Unit 9 just needs to acknowledge their purpose.” Melisande smirks in the perfect way to make me feel so very cold and small.

If I could do anything, I would cry. I would sob and sob and plead for her to just let me go, but the tears won’t come so I feel even more synthetic than she’s made me. So much of me might not even be human, and she could have programmed me to forget what it used to feel like. Are my feelings still real? Are my eyes still real? It’s bad enough that she’s turning me into a robot—I’m starting to feel like one. “You don’t want to do this. Please. You really don’t.”

One of her thin black eyebrows slowly raises as the slight bit of pure green in her eyes shimmers. She steps closer and adjusts some machine out of my vision as my eyes follow her all on their own. The not so good doctor snorts unhappily, quickly followed by a sharp pain between my eyes as she adjusts something else. I must be in a lab, but there’s not much I can see besides her.

More sounds of computers agreeing to inputs ring out around me, and slowly I can feel something seeping into me from those sharp pinches. It’s not a liquid, it feels far more like a mist. It’s a feeling I can’t quite place. “You will not tell me what I want, or do not want. You were sent to spy on my property, and I do not tolerate anyone trying to harm Unit 0. She may be fragile, and her efficiency rating never flickers above eighty-five percent even on the best of days, but . . . she’s special. Especially due to the failure of Unit 1. Damn, that girl could scream. Her efficiency level reached fifty percent and she was able to activate her own self-destruct routine. . .”

“No! You just . . . is that even possible . . .?” My voice feels meeker by the moment, and squirming isn’t an option. I still can’t cry. Am I even a real woman anymore? I feel less and less so as time passes. “Can you really do that . . .?”

“Oh yes. The Unit 5 models had to be wiped because they had learned to use parts of their programming to their own advantage and were on the verge of escaping said programming. Those are the girls that keep showing up dead after seeing your employer. Doctor O’Farrell has been excellent cover, especially since she became publicly successful whereas I flopped and was labeled a quack.” She laughs, and I cringe.

For some reason, I’m finding it hard to even consider her a quack and I doubt to it’s her programming has anything to do with it. Maybe it’s because I know that she can do everything she claimed possible. Everyone else wanted to make better androids. She wanted to make people into robots. She probably had “crazy ideas” about how efficient such a thing could be for our society.

Feel bad about your job? You won’t if you’re a robot. Crime is on the rise? Robots don’t commit crimes. There’s no such thing as a bad robot, only bad programming.

I have to admit, even though I’m not feeling very happy as a test subject for these theories, she does have a point. I can’t do anything she doesn’t want me to do. A whole society of people like this would be ridiculously efficient. No energy would be wasted. No food products would be made sans the essentials. There would never be overpopulation.

With the looks she keeps giving my body, I can’t help but think much dirtier thoughts. There wouldn’t be any worry about who you were attracted to—that could always be modified, perfected. Anyone could have a bevy of beautiful robot lovers, all devoting their hearts and souls with a few quick installations . . .

Population density definitely wouldn’t be a problem. People wouldn’t care where they lived! We would live where she would tell us to live. It sounds like a robotic utopia.

Robotopia I guess.

No wonder they called her a quack. They probably didn’t doubt its possibility. They just didn’t want it to be true. “You mean that unit specifications aren’t person specific?”

“Why would they be? I suppose people could name their Unit 9s anything that they want! You may as well be Jessica, after all. Jaina is just here to help me finish your programming. Soon, we won’t need you anymore and you’ll go right in the recycle bin.” Melisande grins, and the fright is nearly unbearable. I wish I could activate my self-destruct sequence. I’d rather die than help this psycho bitch finish up so she can figure out how to do this to the rest of the world, or even simply whoever she wants to help her have a little fun in whatever way she would choose.

I still can’t insult her. Every moment the desire grows and the ideas feel more dead-on. “Monster,” “bitch,” and “whore” all seem pretty high up on that list, but none of them wants to fall from my lips and I can’t help but find that a little bit reassuring. If my programming works, at least I won’t die. Even if free will as I know it is utterly eradicated from the whole damned world, it’s pretty likely I’ve been like this for a long time.

Being a Unit 9 won’t be all that horrible if she doesn’t make it horrible. I’m sure she could make it the very definition of paradise. A happy robot must be an efficient robot.

“What do you want then, Melisande? Why would you activate me again? Why keep me active at all?” My voice would sound hurt or desperate if I could muster the effort. More of me wants her to just erase me and finish with it. The anticipation, the dread, the looming knowledge of the only thing the future can bring, is not making this any easier. “There must be some reason, something you need me to do, but I can’t imagine what it would be. You seem to have everything figured out. I don’t think I need to agree to anything. Unit 9 will do anything it can for you, I’m sure. You can just really turn me into Jessica and leave me like that forever, but that doesn’t really seem your style either. So what the hell is it? What do you need?”

Doctor Millet’s dark eyes glow in precisely the right way to draw my attention away from everything else as her nose presses faintly against mine. “Every successful villain has morals, and ethics. You know, something to keep them from just breaking every social taboo and getting off on it. Some don’t let anything they do hurt children. Some don’t murder. Some have crazy traditions tracing back to some ancient sect that their family never even belonged to.

“It’s silly. Me, I have my own little bit of ethics. I can’t have myself going around infecting Unit 2 protocols inside of convenience store clerks with head jacks, though gods, watching and listening to them scream in pure pleasure before the corrupt programming white washes their minds would be cute, it just wasn’t cute anymore after the third time. Even thinking through this logically, I still hate paying for chips knowing I don’t have to.”

If I could close my eyes I would. I really don’t need to be seeing this woman right now. I don’t need to be seeing that overly pleased expression on her face. She’s worse than a murderer. She murders minds and uses the bodies as if they were appliances. I can tell from the way her face twists in satisfaction that it even gets her off. “Then what part of your ethics prevents you from doing anything to me by this point? You stole my body from my mind. You’ve apparently done some work in my mind too. I don’t even know what you’ve shoved inside of me. What last hurtle could possibly be stopping you?!”

“You see, I could program Unit 9 to do anything. Absolutely anything. But it would never be able to do it in a human sort of way solely relying on its hard drive, and the organic programming like the doctor’s only has a fifty percent efficiency rating when I’m not near. If you relent, if that organic part of you truly relents, I won’t have that problem anymore.” Melisande’s delicate fingertips slowly slide across my cheek. I would scream if it would do any good, but in spite of that it’s actually almost soothing.

“I explain this, of course, so you will better understand my methodology and why this has to work the way it does. I suppose if I truly desired to be a sociopath I wouldn’t have ever had a use for Jaina, but I think that would only hurt my work. My rule, is that I make my Units’ original selves show me one last glimmer of humanity so that I can watch it fade from their eyes once and for all. I want to see that this Unit that was once human, my greatest accomplishment, but can never be human again. I hold myself back by a desire to hear you beg. I want to hear you plead . . . so that I can refuse a woman her humanity.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Simple.” She rolls her eyes and pulls back, stepping far enough away to still be close while taking the comfort of her body heat. “I overload your nerves with intense heat and cold to the point where what you once thought of as pain . . . has become a joke. Then I will make you beg whatever I want you to beg. I might just hack my way into your actual mind and make you beg. It’ll be less satisfying for me with my twisted handicap, but frankly I’d hope it sounds rather horrid. I assure you it is.”

She pauses only long enough for effect before continuing as if she hasn’t skipped a beat. “I’ve done it before.”

In the end it all comes down to either giving her the last bit of information that she needs to perfect the process of turning a woman into a toy, or I suffer until she breaks me down into helping her anyway. I should have to think about this. I should think that thinking about it might matter.

The choice is too simple to spend much time dwelling on. “Please, please don’t do this. Please just let me go! I just want to be a normal woman! I’ll do anything, I’ll quit the force and never bother you again . . . I want to go back to my life!”

“See, was that so hard? Unit 9, run reformatting file empty_doll.exe. Quickly. You were slow yesterday.” Instantly, it all smashes against me, falling perfectly into place. It feels like infinity and nothing at all. Then it is nothing. I am nothing.

Unit 9 is reformatted.

There is no humanity left.

Unit 9 is self-correcting and obedient to whatever programming Doctor Millet chooses to give her. She was never meant for anything else.

The bonds holding me to the cold metal table retract, and small warm hands start to tear away what little clothing I’m still wearing. Teeth nibble on my ear as words find their way into my processor. “Unit 9, initiate program love_doll.exe and set volume to max. I want to hear excitement over your perfection so loud you’ll need me to install new vocal cords.”

Unit 9 complies.