The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

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Master PC: transmogrification

Mango Tree

J.’s life wasn’t that interesting. He had a degree, an office job, and a mortgage. He had a car and a dog and he liked to build model airplanes in his spare time. In college he met a pretty girl and fell in love, and they finally married.

His life changed one saturday morning. He was reading the news and checking his mail on the computer while drinking his morning cup of coffee, when his screen flickered an unnatural color of blue and died. He had to summon the full breadth of his computer knowledge, switching it off, and then back on. It worked and he would have immediately forgotten this were it not for the object in the centre of his desktop, its icon a pixelated nude girl in a ballerina pose. Its name: Master PC.

Because it was Saturday morning and his thinking was slow, he double-clicked it. Before he had time to change his mind it had loaded. “Welcome to Master PC”. A cheery figurine marched onto the screen. He read: “Welcome to the Master Command Center, your own personal command center. The Master allows you to become a virtual god to the people around you. You now possess the power to bend their reality to your specifications. You are the Master’s representative.”

“Please enter your full name.”

On any other day of the week he would have though this an exceptionally bad idea, but that’s what he did anyway.

“Congratulations! You are the sole user of Master PC.”

He was becoming befuddled. What is this? The screen showed a prompt asking for another name. He typed the name of his dog, Sir Frederick the Fifth. Sir Frederick the Fifth was a haughty son of a bitch, acted like everyone and everything was below him. He lay in his basket beside the desk and was silent except for the occasional bored sigh or contemptuous flick of tail.

To J.’s astonishment the screen now displayed a very accurate rotating model of his dog. He zoomed in on him and it saw those same eyes full of derision, the same ears that drooped with self-pity, the same regal silver-tipped tail. Sir Frederick had no idea why his so-called ‘master’ kept looking at him from the screen to him and back. It was as if he had just discovered what an amazing dog he was—but really he couldn’t care less.

There was a command prompt below the model. J. rubbed the remnants of sleep from his eyes. There were more tabs. He clicked the second, “Notable External Features,” and an unholy mess of dials, sliders, numbers, drop-down menus, checkboxes, lists, and diagrams, all labelled with tiny letters, filled the screen. He clicked on other tabs. There was a “Tail” tab, a “Metabolism” tab, an “Ocular Perception” tab. They got increasingly more detailed and less comprehensible. “Neural Pathways”, labeled from one through twenty-five. A dozen tabs for “DNA Transcription”. The list of them seemed never ending. And so was the number of PhDs you needed to understand them.

His thoughts ran amok for a while but failed to come up with anything useful. So he clicked the box under “Dominant Hair Color” and moved the marker from black to a somewhat nauseating shade of pink. <Send> His eyes were drawn to where his dog Sir Frederick lay (What now human.) because its fur had turned from black to a somewhat nauseating shade of pink. Sir Frederick didn’t seem to mind. He looked at the screen, and back at Sir Frederick.

“Well.” He said it slowly and deliberately. He couldn’t decide whether it was him or the world that had gone insane.

He couldn’t make head or tail of most of the options but he found the documentation and thought it best to start reading. It was very detailed and as far as he could tell it was infinite. It was very clearly written and helped somewhat with his confusion. But his general unease didn’t go. He felt panicky, his hands were clammy. Only the screen was sharply focussed in his view, with miles of text rolling past before him. He read at a mad pace but every question answered was replaced by two new ones. Suddenly he was aware of another feeling: excitement. It became prominent. The power this gave him was limitless, the possibilities were endless.

Only when his eyes started to ache from staring he decided to leave it alone for now and he went to wake up his wife, Zoey.

Zoey didn’t flinch at Sir Frederick’s ludicrous color. If she had, she would have no doubt given J. hell over it, whether he had anything to do with it or not. None of the passersby J. and Sir Frederick met on their walk found it strange either. Pink dogs were clearly broadly accepted by society. The day passed in a blur and J. was only semi-aware of what went on around him. He did his chores so absentmindedly that he bought the dog cat food and he mopped the floor with milk. His thoughts were incoherent and all over the place, but by the evening—Zoey had gone out with her friends—they had started to sort themselves out and crystalized into a semblance of a plan.

Their marriage was not immune to the stresses and strains that five years of cohabitation brought. The college sex bonanza had petered out and their sex life had suffered an expected but regrettable decline in marriage. J. was not unreasonable and always made an effort to compromise, but to hell with that now. Why compromise when I can bend reality as I want?

He experimented. His neighbor come to the door and handed him a single cornflake, which the neighbor found perfectly normal. J. got the guy responsible for street lighting at the local utilities to transmit a message in morse code to anyone on the street and night, but no one got it because no one cared.

He gave Zoey the urge to offer him a back massage the moment she got home. He was watching television when she came in. She looked tired but sounded quite cheerful when she said: “Hi honey. Want a back massage?”

“Sure,” he said and thought: Awesome. “What’s wrong? This is a first.”

“I just thought you’d like one.” She shrugged.

The massage was a bit clumsy but she was sure of herself and with some helpful tips from him she got into it after a while. By the end he felt just great.

J. got up and kissed Zoey. He was turned on and wanted to have sex but she didn’t because she was tired. This, unfortunately, was tediously common. “Ok,” he said and went to the study and in a heartbeat he changed her mind. His next kiss she received like she’d been waiting for it all day. Through the dark corridor they kissed one another into the bedroom, pausing only to take short breaths. Clothes came off and J. was on his back. She found him by touch and she straddled him. She grabbed his dick, and awkwardly guided it into her. As it filled her pussy she was filled with elation and passion permeated the room. She gasped and he groaned as she moved up and down in smooth, deliberate strokes. Hotter and hotter, they wanted more, and they sped up faster and faster. He came with a shock and three big spurts of semen shot into her abdomen. Lying down on top of him she rubbed his back while she kissed him and she said: “We should do this more.”

He could only agree.

When he was sure she was asleep he went straight back to Master PC. He typed Zoey’s name and had a good look at her rotating model and the many pages of figures, stats, and properties. She was a bit shorter than him and her figure wasn’t quite as slim as she used to be. Her cute face encases in short light-brown hair and sharp grey eyes smiled out of the screen at him. He started carefully, made conservative changes, and often paused to consult to manual. He though of things that she was unhappy about and things that could cause conflict between them. She wanted to lose weight but lacked the time and resolve, so he helped her. He knew she was self-conscious about her small boobs, so he changed them. Her libido had gradually shrunk over the last three years so he amped it up. Making her more sexually adventurous would do them both good.

He couldn’t leave himself alone either. He had never been into sports, but wouldn’t mind looking like he was. It was so simple now: a six pack, pecs, the whole hog. No maintenance required. He could spend the rest of his life on the couch and no one would guess. He made his penis an admirable 8″. It was something he just couldn’t not do. His sexual endurance and control went trough the roof. He had to change his clothes because half of the buttons on the shirt he was wearing had popped. They’d have to go clothes-shopping soon. He looked at himself in the mirror: he was as chiseled as a Grecian statue, and hung like a bull. He frowned Not the most original I guess, but let’s give it a try. After half the night spent at this and only collapsed into bed near dawn.

Zoey woke up with a pleasant tingle filling her core. She stroked her tummy and the tingle spread. It filled her arms and her cheeks. It filled her to her toes but its main focus was on her pussy. Like the rising tide devours a sandy beach, so desire washed over demure Zoey, forever changing her. Wavelets of lust licked her feet, her knees, her thighs. She lightly brushed her pink lips with her fingers and traced around her brown aureoles. She squirmed as her nipples grew hard. She shivered and let out soft moans. She stroked and skimmed and grazed as the tingly tide rose and lapped at her pussy, making it damp, then slick, then dripping wet. One hand reached down to cup her mound and explore her folds. Sex flooded her body and her boobs moved as if bobbing in the waves. Her breathing quickened but that couldn’t save her from drowning in the tide of lust. Her mouth emitted hisses and moans. She was already covered in sweat. Finally the dam broke, her belly muscles spasmed and and with a high-pitched yelp an orgasm grabbed her and she arched her back as her hands slowed down but kept moving.

She caught sight of J. ogling her. She smiled coyly at him and he grinned back.

“Sorry for waking you. I thought you were used to this.” Still glowing she looked him in the eye and bit her lip. She rolled over and grabbed his dick and stroked it. “How about a blow job!” She didn’t know that it was her first blow job in three years. As far as she was concerned she’d always been like this. For him it was a shock. Without hesitation she took his penis between her smooth lips. She kept her eyes focussed on him. Her mouth rose and fell, taking him in deep, slowly speeding up. Her tongue caressed the head and massaged the shaft. She felt him tense and in a series of throbs hot spunk filled her mouth. She swished it around with her tongue, savoring the taste before swallowing it. She made sure his dick was clean and then she cuddle up beside him and in silence they caught their breath.

She got dressed and left for her morning run, leaving him to reflect. “Wow,” he mouthed. The hot sex had vaporized his remaining doubts. Fresh ideas sprung up like green shoots. His mind was buzzing and he hopped up and ran to the computer to start Master PC. Things were going to change. Perfection, perfect happiness; he didn’t know what they were, but he was confident he’d find them. He went to work and he felt the world rearrange around him as he went.

He wanted Zoey in on the game. He wanted her to help perfect herself. He wanted her to love it. Forget that, he wanted her to love everything he loved. Nothing would be more fulfilling than to think and say and do what he wanted her to. Control was now on the table and any negative effects could be made non-existent. He was going to tell her what he was doing and he made sure she like it. There would be no shock, fear, or any kind of distaste with this power; but rather enthusiasm, excitement, and most of all arousal at the massive potential.

Master PC proved to be an enormously effective tool. It was much easier to work with than expected. The tangles of options organized themselves in his mind. He found order in the chaos it had presented at first. The more he did with it the more intuitive it became. It offered tips and suggestion that were spot on; it knew what he wanted before he did. It seemed to be able to read his mind. Eventually it was as if it became part of him. At any rate, anyone could have mistaken the normally tech-incompetent J. for a lifelong hacker; his hands handled the keyboard and mouse like a those of a Korean Warcraft pro.

The woman who came back from her run was not the same as the one who’d left an hour before. Her nerves, her brain were thoroughly rewired. Hormones, neurotransmitters, endorphins flooded her system and all she felt was heat. Her clothes rubbed and teased her and every move sent sparks to her brain. This woman was no longer just pretty. She was hot. She came to the study when he called her. Her body glistening with sweat, had not an ounce of excess fat. Her exercise routine was obsolete: her taut tummy flexed and all the muscles in her toned physique rippled in tantalizing harmony as her body heaved to catch her breath. She grinned and grimaced, she didn’t know what to feel or think. She waded through a world of lemonade and candy floss. She fidgeted while leaning with her back against the doorpost.

She wore a tight tank top that nicely presented her new boobs, droplets of sweat flowed into the valley between her breasts. She wore very short sports pants and the wet patch in her crotch betrayed that this morning session hadn’t done a great job of relieving her of sexual tension. Her legs stood confidently apart and her neck carried her head proudly. Her smooth, gleaming skin screamed to be touched and her eyes were full of mischief. She looked a carefree little minx, everyday worries replaced with bubbling vitality.

“You look great. How do you feel?” he asked her.

“Hot. Awesome.”

“I wanna tell you something.”

“What’s wrong?” She was too absentminded to be concerned.

“Nothing. On the contrary, it’s amazing!”

“What?”

“So yesterday, all of a sudden I had this computer program. It was just here on the computer. It’s called Master PC and I can change pretty much anything about anything that has a name.”

She laughed.

“Seriously. It sounds crazy but I swear it’s true,” he said.

“Like what does it do?”

“Like anything, literally. Ok. Watch this. Uhhh. Ever thought of a boob job?”

“Yeah, I guess. They could be a bit bigger.” She felt them up. “But we can’t afford that kinda stuff.”

“We can now. Check this out.” He faced the computer and typed. In the section dedicated to boobs he selected ‘C’ (Master PC used American units, apparently) and looked at her.

Her breasts swelled slowly and her top stretched. It was a wonderful sight but the look on her face was disappointing.

“So…?” she asked quizzically.

“Do you like them?”

“No change here as far as I can tell. Are you ok?”

“Right, one second…” Now, the changes weren’t changes to her: they were simply reality. He needed to make her notice the changes, obviously. He checked the first checkbox on her first tab and then tried again: ‘D’. It worked. That is to say: besides that fascinating view of growing tits, the look on her face was of surprise and enraptured disbelief. The fabric strained and her hardening nipples poked out obscenely. He didn’t want it to stpp, so he did it again: ‘E’.

She sputtered parts of the words ‘what’, ‘how’, and ‘impossible’. She took her now very tight top off and cupped her breasts in her hands, weighed them, examined them. The stood firm and proud on her chest, like mounds of whipped cream on a cake. “I don’t understand,” she finally managed to say.

“I don’t either. All I know is that everything I do here becomes reality. I couldn’t believe it either. You know that massage and the sex yesterday? They weren’t your idea.”

Stunned silence. She cocked her head. “Have you been experimenting on me?”

“A bit. Does that bother you?”

“No. Weirdly. I like it actually. It’s making me feel warm inside.” She paused to think. “Wait a minute…”

“What?” asked J.

He watched her figure it out. Her eyes expressed her feelings clearly. She realised how he was in control of how she felt. … and how I feel about that very fact. In the end she felt lightheaded and could only grin and say: “You’re one cheeky motherfucker, you know that?”

He nodded.

“Fuck me, that’s one hell of a coup. How didn’t I notice?”

“It’s the default setting that you don’t notice. I turned it off for you now. I think I prefer that. I want to get some feedback from you.”

“What else did you do to me?” She leaned against the doorpost again and released her hair.

“A few things, I’ve been exploring the settings all night. There’s so many of them. It would take months to try them all. Let’s just say you’re gonna love what I’ve done to you.”

“Well, is this the best you can do? You could give me massive knockers and magic away all of the discomfort and you’ve given me, what are these, E cups?! I could be looking like a supermodel right now. Surely you can do better.” She’d always been quite demanding. Luckily this was the right kind of demanding. “Can you do something that I don’t have to bother with makeup every day? You could get it to automatically match my clothing or something. Oh and I was never too fond of my workouts. Do something that I don’t need them anymore. Give me a nosej…”

He interrupted her: “Why don’t you go have your shower and make me some breakfast. Leave the rest to me.” He turned away from her.

While he was busy, Zoey was lathering herself well in the shower and her hands on her skin couldn’t possibly fail to get her excited. Cupping her pubic mound and sliding her fingers between her labia got her all distracted from the proper purpose of her shower. At some time she got pulled from her steamy reverie by a shifting of weight in her chest area. The skin covering her breasts stretched and filled out and so did her aureoles. Back muscles bulged in compensation and she immediately knew it was him. Her mammaries showed no intent on stopping what they were doing and soon the things her hands did downstairs disappeared from her view. She took one hand from her pussy and placed them on a growing boob. They had passed F, overshot G, and were well on their way for H. They grew and grew and as they did she used both her hands to get to know them. They were as soft as silk, as smooth and supple as new leather shoes. As springy as bamboo and as their growth finally ground to a halt, as big as amply-sized cantaloupes. They must have weighed a few pounds, each, but her husband had done a good job, because the seemed light and bubbly and she could only have described them as wonderful. She massaged them as an experienced baker kneads his dough. Each tweak of an engorged nipple set off sparks and moans from her mouth. She came with a squeal and her spasms made her hold the shower rail to not fall.

J. might have started with her boobs, but he clearly hadn’t finished there. As she fought to concentrate on washing her hair, various body parts were in flux. Muscles and tendons strengthened, stretched, or shrank as required. Thigh bones, pelvic bones, cheekbones grew for the first time since puberty. Her skin glowed and with a quiver all useless hair fell from her body. She could have sworn she felt resources being rechanneled to the fun parts of her brain.

No sooner had she stepped out of the shower than she felt a dozen new commands hit her. Drying herself off with a towel proved very distracting as every touch of her skin felt like expert hands caressing her for hours. Her ass was bulging and tightening as she searched for fitting clothes, in vain. She threw on one of his baggiest t-shirts—and even this looked stunning on her.

Skipping through the hallway to the kitchen her gait stopped being businesslike as every step became a masterpiece. The world became an audience to be pleased with tantalizing curves and graceful movements. She felt her face stir: her nose buzzed and her eyes focussed. Dozens of invisible paintbrushes skimmed her face and her lips grew fatter and she just had to lick them. Her eyes widened, her eyebrows streamlined themselves. She glanced in the mirror and her mind couldn’t believe how hot she looked and her heart palpitated in agreement. Her light-brown hair thickened and flowed over her shoulders and back, spilled over the sides of her breasts, and settled on, around, and between her peach-shaped ass cheeks. While she whipped together some pancakes her legs gained at least a few more inches and a few more on top of that as her calves and Achilles tendons forced her yet higher on her toes. She was soaring through the clouds.

She strode into the study, confidently placing one foot in front of the other like a pro. There she stood before him smiling sweetly, a wet dream come to life. Her bountiful boobs battled to break free from his old t-shirt. She held a plate in either hand with a massive pancake stack in each, dripping with maple syrup, … just like her bald pussy, except that it wasn’t maple syrup. Flushed red and swollen, it looked just as sensitive and succulent as it was. A drop formed on her inner labia. And… drip, he followed its fall to the floor with his eyes. She bit her lip.

“Understatement of the year but… you’re fucking hot.”

“I know. Good work. I like it. I’m glad you didn’t hold back.”

They ate but it did nothing to cure their real hunger. He got her to pose for him and she happily obliged. She thrust her hips out and folded her arms underneath her tits. The he got her to bend over. She put her feet apart, her legs straight, her bum out, and her back arched. As she stood back up two of her fingers scooped up the juices from her pussy and she slowly licked them clean. All the while she didn’t take her ravenous eyes off him.

“Are we gonna have sex or what?” she said.

In the blink of an eye his trousers were off, she had her back against the wall. His dick slid smoothly into her vagina like a knife into soft butter, so deep it lifter her clean off the floor. He grunted and she squealed without restraint. They kissed furiously and her boobs pressed hard into his pecs. In and out, in and out, hotter, and hotter, and hotter. With a shudder she came, but he wasn’t done yet. He carried her to the table, laid her on it face down, and went at her from behind. She could only hold tight to the table and lose herself in his pistoning motion which quickly brought her over the edge again. To finish himself off he kneeled over her and tore off the old t-shirt. He lubricated her tits well with her pussy juice, and thrust his rod up her cleavage. The tip reached her lips and she licked it whenever it came near. With one last heroic shove he exploded and it went everywhere. His gob and splatters of cum all over her face and neck triggered her to come too.

It took her a full ten minutes to regain control, during which she convulsed and her head rolled from side to side. He held her firmly in place. She carefully collected every speck of spunk with her fingers and licked herself clean. (“So I don’t need to shower again.") Then they kissed and he could taste himself. He could see why she liked it.

She got up to do the dishes while he opted to appreciate the view the table afforded him of her ass. She could just feel his stares and she relished them. He got hard again and languidly stroked his dick. “Wanna try anal?” he asked her.

“Don’t I need to do an enema for that?”

“Yes, but I know another way to take care of that. Why don’t you go to the bed sugarlumps and wait for me.”

A quick line in Master PC was all it took. A few minutes more when Master PC suggested modifying her physiology so that her anus would lubricate just like her vagina. He liked the idea and in no time he followed her to the bedroom.

He was greeted by the sight of her on her knees on the bed, two of her fingers in her ass. Her asshole was already glistening with juices. “How do you like what I did to your asshole?” he asked and she only hummed in approval.

He placed himself behind her and moved her hands out of the way. His cock teased her around her back entrance. He teased her some more by dipping in and out of her sphincter quickly, which made her whimper and squirm. Her ass-hole was so soppy and lubed up, he slid into her in one go, to the balls. But it was oh so tight, it was ecstasy. She gasped and tensed and came then and there. He felt her clamp tighter still and pulse around his rod. He savored the feeling.

He got lost in a pumping motion. She muffled her moans by biting her pillow. Sweat poured from both of them and their heat filled the room. She quickly came again and the release was accompanied by an ear-piercing scream. They didn’t stop. They tried every position they could possibly think of and every orgasm seemed better than the last. It was late in the afternoon that they finally collapsed in exhaustion.

“What the hell am I gonna do tomorrow?” she reflected out loud, “my clothes don’t fit me anymore.”

“I’ll get some rich guy to transfer us some money. We can go clothes shopping all you like.”

“What about work?”

“Let’s retire.”

She looked at him strangely. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Why not? Now, how about you make us some dinner? All this sex is hard work.”

“Can we fuck more after?”

While she happily cooked up a three course meal, he decided to make one more change too her. She knew it straight away. “Hey,” came her indignant protest from the kitchen. She stomped up to him, “Did you just make me bisexual?” She knew her halfhearted objecting was futile and that she sounded more excited than angry, less annoyed than jealous at him for having come up with it first.