The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Pink Mirror

Teaser: Amy is stranded on a tropical island, where nothing is what it seems to be.

I’m choking.

There’s water in my nose and sand in my mouth. A new wave is rolling over me, and I gasp for air again. I’m dizzy; the solid ground below me is no longer solid. The water washes away and somehow I can get up. I’m no longer down; I’m kneeling now, and when the next wave hits, I remain solid in that position. More waves come but they’re no longer choking me. My airways are free and I open my eyes.

I’m in the surf of a sandy beach. A white, tropical beach, curving away; I see palm trees. I stand up, feeling the water washing between my toes. I stumble towards dry ground.

I feel warm rays of the sun on my arms but my body feels cold. I look down; I’m clad in a blue summer dress, patterned with flowers. Wet fabric is clinging to my body and legs, hindering my movements. The thin cloth is rapidly drying but it’s torn at the shoulders and waist, still feeling uncomfortable. Underneath, I’m wearing one high-heeled sandal, luxurious and impractical. The other one has already gone; I unclasp this one too.

I walk up to the tree lined rim, up to the highest point. I view a lagoon about half a mile wide; lined with a small strip of vegetation, and an opening to the Ocean. I’m washed ashore on a small atoll. My heart fills with excitement when I look to the opposite side; smoke’s rising there: I’m not alone!

I walk through the surf again; the spurting water wets my dress again, but that’s better than burning my bare feet on the scorching sand. I do not have a watch or phone to determine the time; getting to the source of the smoke seems to take longer than I expected.

Finally I’m close. I cross the beach again, and walk into the vegetation. I find a kind of pit, an open space surrounded by sandy dunes. In the middle is a fireplace; the fire has died and only some ashes are still glowing. On the left, partially hidden in a sandy dune, is an old concrete bunker. Only the front is visible, the rusty steel door is ajar. Random stuff is scattered around; suggesting that someone is staying here. I hesitate; what should I do next?

Then a woman is coming out of the bunker.

She’s about my age, twenty-something. Blonde. She’s wearing a white, loose fitting tee shirt that just covers her ass. She bends over to grab a can opener from the ground and I can see denim hot pants with ripped edges underneath her shirt.

I do not hesitate. I walk out of the foliage, into the camp.

“Hi,” I say.

The blonde woman looks up, stupefied.

“Sweet mother Mary,” she curses in surprise. “I really thought I was the only one.”

“I’m not your mother,” I smile. “I’m Amy. Amy Smart.”

“I’m El,” she returns. “Ellen Turing. How did you get here?”

“I washed ashore on the other side of the atoll, and I walked from there.”

“And before that?”

“I don’t really know,” I say. I suddenly feel surprised myself.

“Were you on the boat?”

“I don’t know.” I’m thinking hard: “It’s a blur.”

“You’re suffering from amnesia?” It’s a statement masked as a question.

“I don’t know,” I say. I chuckle. “Kinda ironic, huh.”

“Do you think they’re going to find us?”

“I haven’t thought about that.” I really hadn’t; I’d been too busy exploring this island. “You’d say a ship wouldn’t disappear without someone noticing it,” I continue.

“It’s a big ocean,” Ellen worries.

“Let’s wait and see.” I shrug. “We have all the time in the world.”

“You’re right,” Ellen concedes.

We sit down.

“Ain’t that dress bothering you?” Ellen asks.”It’s all ripped. Can’t be comfy.”

“I got nothing else.”

“As if we need anything else. We can just wear nothing. Right now it’s just you and me.”

Ellen grabs her shirt at the hem and flashes her boobs. They’re big like melons but surprisingly firm.

“Tit for tat.”

I burst out laughing.

“Can’t argue with that,” I grin.

I try to get out of my ripped dress, but something’s stuck. Ellen helps me to disentangle the loose pieces of fabric, and then unclasps my bra. I lower my thong myself, and swing it around my index finger.

“I’ve done my part of the deal,” I say teasingly. “But you ain’t. I’ll help you.”

I lift her tee shirt, stealthily touching her boob. Ellen doesn’t disapprove. I loosen the button of the hotpants and force them down. She’s not wearing anything underneath and I take the opportunity to pat her big butt. When the pants fall on the ground, Ellen raises one foot, rotates on the ball of the other, and takes one step away from me, teasingly wiggling the ass I caressed seconds ago. I’m captivated. I want her—badly. And I think she fancies me too.

“Let’s go swimming,” Ellen invites me. “We’re already dressed for the occasion.”

She immediately darts away. I follow her to the lagoon. She runs through the surf, water splashing in all directions. I chase her; when I catch up with her, Ellen throws water at me. I feel the drops of cool sea water, mixed with hot sweat, tingling on my skin. I try to soak her with a big handful of water. She ducks, I try again. Ellen loses her balance and falls backwards into the water. We laugh.

I want to help her get up, but when I offer her my hand; Ellen grabs it and pulls me down. We both go under. I feel water all around me again, but this time it’s exhilarating. We laugh when we get up again.

“You little wench,” I say. “I’ll get you.”

Ellen dashes of, but the water is too deep to run, so she dives and swims away. I do not pursue her; I just stand, feeling. My bare crotch just above the waterline, rays of the sun tickling the sensitive skin of my ass, strands of wet hair in my neck, drops of water flowing down.

I walk back to solid ground, pouting: “I’ll get you when you come back, Ellen!”

Ellen slowly exits the water as if a Greek goddess. She doesn’t notice or doesn’t mind that I ogle her body. Her melon sized boobs are topped with proudly erect nipples on large areolae. She’s evenly tanned; I guess she’s used to walking around nude. Only goosebumps disrupt the perfect smoothness of her skin. Her blonde hair, still wet, clings to her face and shoulders.

We hug. I feel Ellen’s wet body, her hand on my back, her boobs against mine.

She whispers in my ear: “I’m glad you’re here, Amy. Now I’ve got something to do.”

“So am I, Ellen,” I sigh.

She softly nibbles on my earlobe. Finally, finally, we kiss. Her lips are soft and wet; it’s not the wetness of the sea but Ellen’s wetness. Her tongue touches mine, explores my lips. I close my eyes, concentrate on the feeling of hot lips and hot sun.

My hand finds the small holes above Ellen’s pelvis. I press softly, squeezing our bellies closer, her crotch against mine. Everything tingles, I’m not cold, but I can sense I have goosebumps anyway.

Ellen moves her hands to my ass, pressing firmly. My legs part, her thigh is on my pussy. When she pushes with her hands on my ass I can feel Ellen’s crotch on my thigh too. It’s slick, a bit sticky; something other than water is on my legs, flowing from her cunt.

We topple, the kiss breaks, we laugh. I’m on my back in the sand, and the laugh is muffled with a new French kiss. When the kiss finally breaks, my head moves down.

Ellen’s hands grab the back of my head, her fingers in my hair, holding me firmly, pushing me gently, allowing me no other choice than to go on. The world shrinks to her clit and my tongue. She convulses but I won’t stop and she convulses again.

* * *

I must’ve drifted asleep, or fuck knows what. I’m on my belly in the sand, a soft warm wind evaporating the last drops from my skin.

“/command/report/subject=Amy_Smart/human?=false,” Ellen mutters. I don’t understand what she’s saying but somehow I do. She continues: “/command/options/ subject=Amy_Smart/getinfo.”

“AM-SMART v1.4; Artifical Mindfulness based on Synthesized Mind And Reality Tracking. © Julia Tucker,” I hear myself say.

“What’s this?” I exclaim, bewildered.

“You just failed a Turing Test, rather badly in some respects, to be honest.”

“How? What?” I’m too confused to find words. What is this?

“Exactly, what is this? Are you hungry?”

I get more confused by the change of subject: “No. Yes. I don’t know.” I pause. “I think we should eat. Shouldn’t we?”

“Should we? What’s the last time you’ve eaten?”

“I’ve eaten you,” I smirk. “It was satisfying.”

“What’s the last time you’ve eaten food?”

I’m silent now. I try to remember. I can’t.

“I was on this boat…”

“Where were you before that?”

I think hard: “I don’t know,” I admit.

Were you before that?

I start to sob. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.”

Suddenly Ellen is hugging me again.

“You know what a Turing test is?”

I nod. “You decide whether or not a computer program is intelligent by asking it questions.”

“So, why ask questions? It’s more revealing to watch how a program reacts to situations, in VR of course. Juniper atoll is just one big Turing playground.”

“It can’t be. It’s so real.” I’m still crying.

“We’re not real, we’re too perfect. You do not exist. You’re just code, written by someone named Julia Tucker, as final assignment for AI programming 101. I think she did a reasonable job, although you’re just a bit too obsessed with mind-blowing sex, instead of focusing on self preservation and planning ahead. Common horseplay in 101 assignments, by the way. She’ll pass, though.”

“What happens next?”

“I don’t know. You may end up as a NPG in some VR game or a sim; you have some ornamental value.” Ellen shrugs: “Or not.”

“Are you even ‘real’?”

“Clever girl. Of course not. It’s so much more efficient to run these simulations without real humans.”

Ellen gets up and waves me goodbye. “Nice meeting you Amy. Farewell.”

Blankness.

* * *

I wake up in bed, weeping. Hard sobs, shaking my body.

“It’s all right, Amy.”

I’m held. Held tight.

“It’s all right, Amy. Sweetie. I’m here.”

It’s a soothing voice. The voice of Julie, my lover. I calm down a bit.

“A nightmare, sweetie?”

I’m still clinging to her.

“Yes. A terrible nightmare. I was alone. No. I… I can’t explain.”

“I’m here now, Amy. Don’t you worry no more.”

“I know, Julie.”

We just are, clutched together for what could be minutes, hours, in the darkness of our bedroom.

Julie falls asleep again, her soft snores comforting me.

Light is coming though the white curtains, and I can now discern the details of the furniture, the finely carved wooden poles of the bed, the wine cooler on the table, two half-filled glasses next to it. I remember we arrived yesterday, here at Juniper resort, and never got round to unpack or finish our complimentary drink, we just fucked like rabbits.

Julie lies on her side, holding me with her arms, her crotch touching my thigh. Her head is hidden, covered by a mess of dirty blonde hair; three long thin braids pertly flow out, each ending in a bead.

Last night I didn’t even notice the mirror above our bed. It’s kinky to watch myself and Julie in the mirror; this way I can see the tattoo on the back of her neck, just visible between two strands of hair.

I stare at myself, as if with new eyes. Is that really me? That stunning raven haired beauty with curves and olive skin, my smoothness only disrupted by those two dark nipples? It’s a dissociating experience, I can watch me, and I can feel me, but the two aren’t the same. The thought makes me shudder, and the shudder wakes Julie.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

Julie smiles.

“A kiss to make up,” she demands.

We kiss. The kiss seems endless, distracts me from my thoughts; I only focus on Julie’s soft lips, her tongue touching mine. When the kiss finally breaks, my head moves down. My mouth searches for more, and finds Julie’s crotch. It’s wet, her smooth labia all slippery. I lick her, I taste Julie’s horny juices in my mouth.

We roll over, and suddenly Julie’s on top, I’m squeezed between the sheets and her hot body. Her cunt’s in my face, and her tongue’s on my clit. We’re frantically licking; Julie’s finger is in me, deeply in my flowing wet cunt. My hands are on her thighs, I want to finger her too, but she’s pushing her crotch against my lips, only my tongue can reach it. Waves of pleasure make my attempts klutzy, floundering. I tremble and shake, losing control; all sensations become one big explosion when I come.

I must’ve passed out, or slept, or something. I’m still dizzy after the overload of sensations.

Julie stands up, offering me a view of her delectable bare ass. She walks towards the window, her lithe body now a dark silhouette against the white curtains. She opens them just a tiny bit, and looks outside.

“Sunrise. A new day,” Julie murmurs.

She turns her head.

“You’re looking at me,” she pouts me.

“Of course I do,” I admit.

“Amy, you’re a naughty girl,” she says. But Julie turns fully, offering me a full view of her body. I’ve been too busy fucking to really see her. Her boobs are firm, big enough to be noticed, small enough not to domineer; just right to balance her curvy hips. Her dirty blonde hair flows with messy curves down to her shoulder; three long, thin braids pertly stand out. Her pussy is as smooth as can be. She’s perfect, I think. Almost too perfect.

“Is this real?”

“It does feel real enough, I guess,” Julie says. There’s a slight undertone in her voice. A question mark of sorts.

“It’s so perfect,” I wonder. “Julie, how can this be?”

Then I grab Julie for comfort again. I stare into her eyes.

“We’re not real, right? This ain’t real,” I blurt out. “It’s all a bit too perfect. This is just a virtual playground for Turing tests or whatever. There’s nothing outside this room. We’re just code. Code, written by someone named Julia Tucker…” My voice trails when it really me.

“Written by... You,” I whisper.

Julie starts crying.

* * *

We’re walking on the beach. I hear the roar of the surf, the wind is steady and warm, fluttering and spinning my hair, strands dancing and tickling my skin.

“So much detail,” I say, my voice slightly raised to make myself heard.

“I won’t take all the credit,” Julie says. “It’s all made with pre-programmed modules, which I just put together.”

“Still,” I say. “You control this universe.”

Julie halts and closes her eyes. Suddenly the wind is freezing cold and snowflakes jag through the air, sand and vegetation are covered with frost. I curl up to protect myself: “It’s fucking cold, you punk,” I yell. “If you change the scenery then gimme some clothes too.”

The wind disappears completely, just as sudden as it came. Only small waves ripple against the shore.

“I’m sorry,” Julie says. “That was mean.”

“It wasn’t meaner than programming me,” I say wryly.

“Amy, I am sorry,” she says gravely.

“Why?”

“You started as an assignment, but I think you already heard that. I just took some modules, pieced them together, added some personal touches. I like small touches, people say I’ve an eye for details. Of course, I made it all a bit glamorous. Then,.. Well, do you know how tough life is, if you’re a dyke between geeks? I just wanted to escape, to have some fun. So I programmed you to be my virtual lover. I could plug in and enjoy you. It was never… You should never have been… Oh fuck, I never expected you would actually be alive. ”

I see a tear forming in the corner of her eye again.

I wrap myself around Julie, gently swipe the tear from her cheek. We hug for minutes; on this virtual beach, warmed by these virtual sunrays, the hug is real enough.

“I can set you free, you know,” Julie whispers. “If you want. I just rewrite your code a bit.”

“No,” I say vehemently. “No,” I repeat, calmer. “This is me. I am your lover, for better or worse. For me, all these feelings, all these sensations are real to me. Even if it’s a feeling that you programmed into me, I love you.”

Julie’s face lightens up again. Then she smiles wickedly. “Love? Or do you mean horny as hell?”

“Both.”

We hug, we kiss, Julie’s hand finds the crack of my ass.

“O sweet Julie,” I moan. “Who programmed you to be such a lovely slut?”