Subject MC5 Has Escaped

by A Strange Geek

Caution: This Mind Control Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, NonConsensual, Mind Control, Science Fiction, Oral Sex, .

Desc: Mind Control Sex Story: A man with a genetic mutation is the subject of a government experiment intended to awaken his mind control powers. He escapes from the facility and tries desperately to stay one step ahead of his pursuers, and wrestle with his own personal demons over the use of his incredible powers.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was originally written for a writing contest on the MCforums site. The idea was to take a popular movie and base a work of mind control fiction off a premise or plot device in the movie. I won't mention which movie it is, but if you spot it and see a similar theme, this is intentional. Please, no "you ripped off..." emails. This is NOT fan-fiction. The plot and characters are entirely my own creation.


Yeah, fine, don't stop, you fucker. I'm a serial killer. I'm a rapist. I'm some bum that's gonna carjack you soon as you stop. I broke out of the mental ward. I'm a psycho off his meds. I'm a druggie looking for my next crack fix.


I probably look exactly like any of those. I wouldn't stop for me either.

Hey, you know what's really freakin' hilarious? Get this: I'm more dangerous than any of them put together. So how come I'm left walking the side of the road in a dirty trench coat, three days of growth on my face, in need of a shower and a meal, trying to thumb a ride from anyone that's dumb enough to stop for me?

Because either they didn't finish the programming, or I'm just a dumbfuck after all.

A truck comes up behind me. He doesn't stop either. Or the minivan after him. Hell, he sped up when he saw me. Had a load of kids. Yeah, I probably look like a pedophile, too. Amazing what people fill in when they have little information to go on.

Problem is, I'm getting frustrated. I get frustrated, I get tense. I get tense, I start bursting. Goddamn. I really am a dumbfuck. I should've put off my escape til they fixed that.

Oh, wait, another car coming. Damn, can't see who's inside, windows are tinted. Is he slowing down? Yeah, he... no he's not!... fuck! FUCK!

Suddenly there's a screech, burned rubber, and the car comes to a stop.

Shit. Burst. Please, just be a neuromotor response. Please.

I run up to the car. I don't know who is in it, but I can sense one mind. I stop at the passenger side and try to smile. Then a gentle push. Gentle. Just lower the window.

The window hums and lowers, and I blink in surprise. It's a woman.

Geez, she's gorgeous. A real sight for sore eyes. Tall, sort of sandy-haired. Big blue eyes to get lost in. Wearing a blouse that's tight enough to show off her figure, not so tight that it looks slutty. Nice skirt, showing off her legs.

I finally notice one of those legs has the brake stomped to the floor. I look in her mind. Thank you. Neuromotor response only. I smooth it over, she eases off the brake.

She's frightened. No, come on, babe, I'm not going to hurt you. Really. See my smile? Okay, just another nudge. Easy, easy. That's better. She's a little more relaxed. Her eyes don't have the deer-in-the-headlights look anymore. Still nervous, though. That's okay. Get out of her mind, Jack. Don't push it, no matter how much those government bastards would want you to do if you were still back in their lab.

I try to make my voice sound as soft as possible. "I just need a ride to the next town. That's all. Really appreciate it if you could help a guy who's just had a bad break or two."

Okay, I have to nudge her again. But just a little. She has a Good Samaritan streak in her. She feels guilty for almost going past me, though she's obviously confused about why she stopped. I smile again. That's it, just relax. I'm harmless.

She unlocks the door. I scramble in and we are on our way. And I have another few hours freedom.

Shit. Half hour into the drive, radio news announces the APB for me. I have to get in her head again, make the information just flit through her mind without sticking. She still glances at me nervously, but keeps driving. Damn, that was close.

Okay, no more. Stay the fuck out of her head. I have to keep trying to convince myself I don't want to use this power. Damn, but it's a rush. Knowing you can just walk through someone's head like that. Dammit, no! The fuckers in the government did this to you! All you had was that damn mutation. Hardly did more than just make people like me and get me laid more often than most guys. Then those monsters blow it up into this!

So I let her drive on. Plan is to have her let me off at a truck stop or something where I can get a shower, then just mentally nudge someone into dropping a ten spot so I can get a decent meal. Until it dawns on me. Everyone else heard the APB, too. This gal is the only one in the three state area that hasn't.

I look at her. Damn, she's pretty. Wouldn't mind...


Concentrate. Just your immediate needs.

I start working on her. I strike up a conversation. Much easier to do while she's talking, all those neural whatchamacallits lighting up in her head, makes it easier to find the right paths. Gentle, Jack, gentle! You don't know how much power they gave you!

Okay, it's working. I get her to smile at me. She's got a pretty smile, too. Oops, she's anxious again, the whole "why am I doing this" shtick. Something else is bothering her, too. I don't push at it. It's something she can't deal with right now.

I'm having trouble juggling her emotions. Am I being too delicate? Fuck, I don't want to alter her. I push a little harder. Okay, I think that's fine. She's relaxing again. Still troubled, though, and confused.

Damn, this better be all I need to do. I don't want to mess with her head any more than this.

Amazing the wonders a hot shower does for you.

I even manage to get over my guilt. I had to get in her mind again. She got real skittish when we were in the house alone. I had to kinda keep my distance from her. Even then I had to suppress her urge to call the cops.

Okay, in and out. Shower, a little schmoozing to get some money, and outta here. I'll take my chances. No more messing with this cutie.

I get out the shower and look at myself in the mirror. I look halfway decent again. Sure wish I can do something about the stubble, though. For the hell of it, I glance in the medicine cabinet. My lucky day. A man's razor and shaving cream.

Wait, a man's... ? Aw, shit. She's married, or living with someone. I gotta get out of here before he gets home.

I shave as fast as I dare, dress, and go looking for her. I surprise her in the kitchen. She gives me this look, like she never saw me before. Yeah, babe, I'm not the lunatic you thought I was, huh? Anyway, I just need some money for a meal. Another little nudge to make her more willing.

But she doesn't give me the money. She invites me to stay for dinner.

Shit. I messed with her too much, that's it. She can't possibly want me to stay. But she's adamant about it. Claims she's a good cook. In a panic, I look in her mind. Personality okay. Emotions are jumbled, but not sure if that's my doing or not.

I agree to stay.

Her name is Carol.

She gets friendly with me while she makes dinner and it comes out. She lives alone. Divorced. Damn. She doesn't say it but I can see in her mind. It was really painful for her. This is the first time she's cooked for anyone other than herself in over a year. She's lonely.

She wants to know about me. I have to make up a cock-and-bull story. I tell her my name's Jack, give her a sob story about losing my job, tough economy, blah blah blah. Truth is, I'm not sure what my real name was. To the feds I'm "Subject MC5". Yeah, I know what you're thinking. Where's MC1 through MC4. "Not entirely successful" the feds said. Which means their brains turned to mulch.

Could've happened to me. Decided to get the fuck out of there before it did.

She looks like she's going to burst into tears at one point. I can't stand seeing that. I smooth things out for her, make her feel better. It passes.

Shit, I did it again. I messed with her mind. I have to stop.

Carol wasn't kidding. She's a damn good cook. Best meal I had in years.

My instinct says to leave. She's going to cry again. Why? I don't get it. I can't leave her like that. I get in her head again, try to smooth it out. Instead, I trigger something else. I can't do the delicate stuff as well. Suddenly she's telling me things that are very private.

How much she missed Dave, her ex; how lonely she's been without him; how she's not so much as dated anyone else after the divorce. I try to stop her, but something's wrong. I've screwed with her too much, removed some inhibition somewhere. She tells me about him. Intimate details. What he liked to do with her in bed.


I'm sorry.

It's too tempting, dammit. That's what's wrong with this power. It's too easy. I can't help it. I hadn't been with a woman for so long. She's already pining for her lost ex. She hadn't had sex since they divorced. It doesn't take much.

A few nudges, and her defenses come down. She's getting affectionate, snuggling with me on the sofa. I try to restrain myself, but it's hard. I keep telling myself I'll stop. No more. Just take this and be happy with it.

But then I feel her all warm and soft against me and I just naturally want more. I mean, come on, what guy wouldn't try to make the move on her now? Fine, make a move, don't get into her mind, don't...

Aw, shit.

It's almost a reflex.

I had tried pulling her closer to me and felt her resist just a bit. I couldn't stop myself. I was in her mind before I realized it. Why did they have to make it so damn automatic, those bastards!

Now when I pull her close, there's no hesitation. I kiss her and she kisses back. It just cascades from there. I want her so badly now. She kisses me harder and starts to moan. I find myself apologizing to her even as I'm making her horny as hell. She's barely listening to me.

She starts to take her clothes off. I tell her to stop. I want to do it myself. It's just something I like to do with a girl. To me it's like unwrapping a present.

It's only halfway through this that I realize I'm almost torturing her. I got her so aroused she's trembling and panting. I should go in and smooth it out, pull her back a bit, but I can't. I'm getting off on this.

Fuck. Did the feds make me a damn pervert or was I just this way all the time?

It's worse because I just want to look at her while I'm stripping her. God, she's pretty. Can't believe some guy would leave a chick like this. Nice, full tits, not too big. Nipples already hard thanks to me. She moans when I take her panties off. They're soaked through. Oh man, she shaves. Completely. Damn, I like that.

I like it so much I want a taste of it.

I sit her on the sofa and spread her. She's quivering. Her pussy is practically dripping. She starts moaning like crazy soon as I start licking her, and she doesn't stop. Maybe giving her pleasure like this first will make me feel less guilty for messing with her mind in the first place.

But really, I didn't harm her! I didn't do anything permanent! Once I'm gone, she'll go back to normal. She will. I didn't want a fucking sex slave.

She's so excited, she's cumming already. I just keep going. She's writhing like crazy. I send her up again. I'm not doing this. I'm not making her super-sensitive or something. She's cumming like this on her own. She's just one really sexy chick.

And some guy left her. Fucking asshole.

After that, I'm just to damn hard to want to wait any longer. She's still excited.

We go into her bedroom. She's desperate for me to get my clothes off. She wants me really bad. She kisses me again, hard. She's crazy with lust. Holy shit. I have to look in her mind to see if I did that. Only some of it. A lot of it is from her.

It makes me feel a little better.

I don't hold back anymore. I grab her and pull her onto the bed. I want her, and I want her now. She can't open her legs fast enough for me. No delicacy anymore, I just plunge into her.

And she loves it.

Am I making her love it? I can't tell, I'm too caught up in it. She's goddamn wet, I know that. She clutches at me, her nails biting into my arms. I'm fucking her hard, and she's still begging for more. She's panting so hard, I'm almost worried she can't breathe.

Oh, man. She's cumming again. Her hips keep bucking under me. I pound into her even harder, forcing her to remain still. She lifts herself to me, making me really go deep. Our bodies are slapping together like in some fucking cheap porno flick. And she's just eating this up, begging me not to stop.

Finally I'm getting to the end. I'm ready to go. Her cries are getting more shrill. She's building up to a big one. Oh man, she's hot. Shit, what I wouldn't do to be able to just stay here and...

No way. I can't. I said I didn't want a sex slave, and that's all she'd be to me.

I get there first. Oh fuck! Her cunt just suddenly squeezes around my cock really hard as I start to cum, and then she's practically screaming like a banshee. Shit, I can actually feel her pussy throbbing. Oh man. Never had it that good.

In fact, this is the first time I've had sex since they started conditioning me.

Fuck. Does this mean it will be this good every time? Just because I can mess with her mind?

We're panting like crazy when it's over. We're both sweating. Shit, I need a shower again. I flit into her mind again, just one last time. She's happy. Very happy. I can only hope that will ease the shock later once she figures out what happened.

Damn. Somehow the feds picked up the scent.

Traveling by day is just not possible anymore. First time I did that, they nearly got me. Had to just lash out and temporarily mind-blank some of them until I could get away. Shit. I hope it was temporary.

So now I move only at night. I have to break into houses like a common thief to get food and supplies. I seem to have some skills in that area. Fuck, was I just some street thug before the feds started messing with me?

I manage to avoid getting caught for a bit. Most of what I want is in the kitchen anyway. My luck runs out about the fourth night. Suddenly I look up and there's someone standing in the doorway.

Both of us are too stunned to move for a moment. Her because there's some creep in her house, me because she's a pretty redhead in a see-through nightgown and no underwear.

I manage to recover first and I get into her mind. I calm her enough that she doesn't scream, but she's backing away. I stop her, but it's hard. She's really fighting me, and I don't want to damage her. Shit, I need to distract her somehow! Just occupy her until I can get what I want and leave.

An idea comes to me, and before I can stop it, it just happens.

Suddenly she's trembling. She staggers and clutches at the door frame. She starts panting, her eyes open wide in both fear and astonishment. She tries to think, tries to go back to wanting to get away, but it's too strong for her to ignore. She moans and slowly sinks to her knees. Seconds later, she's whimpering and her hips are jerking as she cums.

Yeah, that's right, I'm a fucking pervert after all. I'm making her have an orgasm. But at least it will distract her and it's pleasant for her.

She tries to say something to me as I quickly grab what I need from her fridge, but I'm still in her mind. Just don't fight it babe. I'm giving you another one. Just ride it out. I'll be gone soon.

She collapses to the floor, moaning loudly, pleasure overwhelming her. She gasps when she cums again.

I take one last look at her. Damn. I'd really like to...

No. Not this time. I've done more than enough.

I trip into her brain again and set her to have one more really nice one as I make my getaway.

I have to stop this.

I have to find a haven somewhere.

I get caught three more times. Each time by a lovely lady. Dammit, why always the women? Two times I resist my urges, the third time I don't.

She was awake already. A sexy little petite brunette. She obviously isn't expecting to actually see someone in her kitchen. In fact, she's already chastising someone named "Fluffster" as she comes in, which I assume is her cat. Shit, I hope it is. Hate to think of a dog going through life with a dumb name like that.

When she sees me, I know exactly what she was doing. She's naked, her pussy's wet, and so are some of the fingers of one of her hands.

Fuck, how can I resist that?

This time I try a different tack. When I get in her head, I don't try to calm her. Instead, I turn up the heat on her desire. She's already wet and excited. I make her hot and horny. She's so aroused she can't think. Or at least not think about screaming or calling the cops. It's easier when she's already halfway there.

Even then, she's way too compliant when I take her on the sofa. She barely fights me, either physically or mentally. Soon as I'm inside her, she's jamming her hips against me. No matter how hard I fuck her, she wants it harder.

I get into her mind. Shit. She has rape fantasies, and I'm fulfilling one. She's even disappointed I'm not slapping her around or being brutal with her. Sorry, babe, that ain't my style. I smooth it out and soon she's enjoying what I give her a lot more.

I leave her with a smile on her face. At least with her and her dark fantasies, I know it will stick.

I'm being tracked. I know I am. Someone is following me. How do I know? I just know.

In case you haven't figured it out yet, I can do more than just rewire people's neurons. I can read them. Well, a little. I can't pluck out of your head the thing you always wanted that you got for Christmas when you were seven, but if you're giving me a look I don't like, I can tell what your intentions are. "Surface thoughts" they call them.

And I can sense when people are near me. No two minds are alike. And I've sensed the same one, hovering just out of reach of my abilities, for the past few days.

And now it looks like my luck has run out.

Barely after dusk, and they're on me. Every fucking FBI agent in America must've been brought to that little town I'm in. Too many of them. They finally figured out a weakness. I can't just sweep through people with my power. I have to focus on one at a time. No way can I hold off an onslaught. Only my ability to sense them coming keeps me free a little while longer.

Or alive. I hear bullets crack by overhead. Guess they figure I could still be a use to them dead.

Suddenly I'm cut off. Big black limo pulls up as I'm trying to cross a road. Fuck, why didn't I sense it? Why...

The door opens. A woman's voice says, "Get in."

Now I understand. I was focusing on people with the intent to kill or capture me, so I didn't sense her. Which means she's not with them. That's good enough for me.

I scramble in and I'm barely inside when the woman barks an order to the driver and the limo peels away from the curb, nearly throwing me back out.

"You're safe now," the woman says.

I look at her. She has dark hair, done in a big pony-tail. Large-lensed glasses. Can't see much detail of her body. It's dark and she dresses conservatively. Gives me this prim-and-proper look.

I check out her mind. No need to do anything with her. No hostile intentions.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Joanne. That's all you need to know."

"Fuckin' hell it isn't. I..."

"You are safe. I will tell you more later, now..."

"Ma'am?" says the driver suddenly. "Roadblock."

"Take care of them."

"Yes, ma'am."

Take care of them? What the hell did she mean by that?

Somehow I expect this dude to floor it and plow through the blockade with a gun blazing in his hand. Shit. Been watching too many bad spy movies back at the government compound.

We stop at that blockade. Feds swarm around us. Some peer right in but don't see anything. One-way glass, I figure. Driver speaks softly to them. Can't hear what he's saying, but whatever it is, a minute later we're passed on through.


Joanne touches my hand. "Please," she says. "Just relax. They will not follow."

Maybe that was true of the feds. But no sooner than we left the roadblock behind that I feel that other mind again, just out of reach.

Holy shit. This chick has serious money.

Yeah, I'm safe. Feds don't bother people with money like this. Not if the politicos don't want to lose their nice fat wads of campaign contributions. I'm still suspicious, though. Not because of Joanne. I do feel a little bit of excitement from her, but that's all. No duplicity whatsoever. In a way, it's almost as if she's letting me into her mind.

We drive up to this huge-ass mansion. Joanne doesn't say much to me. Once we're in the place, I can see her more clearly. She's actually attractive, but hides it. Slim build, hint of nice legs under her full-length skirt. Two pert orbs on her chest. Full lips.

She sees me noticing her, and her eyes shy away from mine. "This way," she says crisply.

She takes me to a really posh suite. Huge bed, kitchenette, plasma HDTV with surround-sound, the works. Bathroom even has a freaking Jacuzzi. Dresser has fresh clothes. Fuck, I could get used to this.

"If you need anything, ring for the servants," Joanne says and starts to leave.

"Hey, wait!"

She stops at the door and turns. "Yes?"

"Why the hell are you doing all this?"

She adjusts her glasses and gives me a prim look. "I do what the owner of this house tells me to do."

"Wait, you're not the owner? Then who is?"

"I cannot tell you that now. You will know soon enough. For now, you are safe."

"Yeah, so you claim."

"If I were law enforcement, why go through this ruse? Why did I not turn you over at the roadblock?"

I don't have an answer for that.

"You are safe, and you will know more in the morning. Good night," she says, and quickly leaves.

I treat myself with a soak in the Jacuzzi, shave, fix my hair. I think about calling a servant for some dinner, but the kitchenette has enough stuff, so I just snack in front of the tube for a bit. I start to feel human again.

But I can't shake the feeling that something is wrong.

That mind is still out there. Still just out of reach. Still lingering. Now I wonder if it's just me. Maybe they fucked with my sanity as well as my genetics. Shit, I hope not. If I start going crazy, I could hurt someone with this power. I'd rather be dead than do that.

I decide to turn in, but sleep doesn't come to me, even with as comfortable the bed is. After sitting in the dark for awhile, I sense something out in the hall. Seconds later, the door to my suite opens.


It's Joanne. Before I can say anything, she steps inside and closes the door. She quietly pads over to my bed and turns on the lamp on the night table. She's dressed in a full-length nightgown.

"What do you want?" I ask.

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