The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Warda

I made my way around the back of Echelon, following the directions I’d been given. The forest pressed close against this side of the building, creating a quiet space away from the bustle of the main entrance. I was desperately trying to make myself feel something more than the soft longing and dull ache that seemed to be all I could manage. It should have been more, shouldn’t it? The man I’d loved was dead, murdered while I was under Smith’s control, and all I could summon was this muted sense of loss.

The improvised cemetery was smaller than I’d expected: just a few simple wooden crosses marking shallow graves. The names carved into the wood were rough but legible: Duncan Mercer, Edward Barrett, Tristan Grimaud, Miles Reeves... I wasn’t prepared to find someone else already there.

Portia was sitting on the ground near Tristan’s grave, her face puffy and red from crying. She looked up when she heard my footsteps, clearly startled to be discovered in this private moment. She immediately began trying to wipe her face, attempting to make herself more presentable.

“It’s all right,” I said, stopping her with a raised hand. I was genuinely surprised by the intensity of her grief. From what the others had told me, Portia had been unclaimed by Tristan before Smith’s take over, had been the one to kill the fucker, had played a crucial role in saving everyone. But I’d been frozen, being reprogrammed when it all happened, so I’d missed it.

I moved to stand in front of Edward’s grave, right next to Tristan’s. The simple wooden cross with his name carved into it seemed inadequate somehow. I stared at it for a long moment, then let out a nervous chuckle.

“I wish I could cry like you,” I said to Portia, who was looking at me with confusion. “But I don’t feel much of anything.”

“Maybe you will someday,” she replied, though her voice lacked conviction. The platitude hung awkwardly between us.

I turned toward her, genuinely curious. “What’s up with that anyway? How come you’re crying if you’re free too?” I kept my tone light, almost playful. “Seems a bit unfair, if you ask me.”

Portia sniffed and looked back at Tristan’s grave. “Before Smith took over, Tristan freed me. He was brilliant, absolutely brilliant.” Her voice carried a mixture of pride and pain. “He told me I was a puzzle he wanted to solve. As soon as the first freeing program was finished, he went to work on it. I think it was partly because I was a challenge to him, but also…” She paused, her voice catching. “I think he loved me.”

I recalled what little I knew about Tristan: the awkward, clearly autistic scientist who’d caused more than a few emotional explosions around the institute with his blunt manner. I’d had to intervene a few times when his behavior set people off. It didn’t surprise me that he’d work on something like that without telling anyone. But love? As far as I knew, he and Portia had been constantly at each other’s throats before all this started.

“He freed me that night,” Portia continued, her voice growing thick with emotion. “But Smith was already taking over Echelon. When we tried to escape, Smith killed him.” She started crying again, the tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

It hit me then. This was why she was crying. The freeing program had removed any negative emotions about her time being claimed by Tristan, but she’d already been free when he was murdered. The trauma of his death was still there because it happened after her liberation. I felt a stab of jealousy that she could feel so deeply while I remained numb.

I knelt down beside her awkwardly, comforting people wasn’t really my strong suit, and placed a tentative hand on her shoulder.

“I loved him too,” Portia sobbed. “I know I was claimed, programmed, but even after he freed me, I still loved him. He wasn’t weird like everyone thought. He was different, but he was kind. By being his, I learned who he really was because I dedicated myself to understanding him. He wanted complete transparency between us, no games, no pretense.” She looked up at me through her tears. “He saved us all. He caught the error in the freeing program and fixed it. He freed me, and in the end, he freed everyone.”

Fair enough. We owed the guy big time. Yet I couldn’t help but wonder if Portia would have ended up so in love without the soothing effects of the freeing program. Truth be told, I had no way to know, so who was I to judge?

I looked at Edward’s grave again and finally felt a pang of genuine emotion. I couldn’t be hurt by his death, but damn if I wasn’t missing him already... It would do.