The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

BIMBO OR BILLIONAIRE: WIN / WIN

EPILOGUE

And for a long frustrating while, that was exactly how it panned out. But things are starting to change for the better now. The mouse was only the start, and events have moved fast since then. It’s all panning out pretty well, in fact, since the third Collar of Fate prototype. Look, I’m wearing it now.

As you can see, I haven’t done anything much with my body; who would? Nor with my lovely hair, or my voice, or even my face, apart from introducing some new expressions; I can smile now—look! But frowning is still an issue.

I admit the Latex thing is proving a little problematic. I’ve managed to find a new rotation of the group symmetry that’s slightly more modest; a rather wonderful bodysuit in the same material, which I must say turns heads. More variations will no doubt follow. I still love my heels.

And as for the acting career, I’ve definitely moved on from that now. Fond memories though, and occasionally I still have some fairly graphic dreams. To be honest, the temptation to return is constant, and maybe one day I will. Some of my films are considered classics, I believe, amongst a certain audience.

You’ll be wondering about the embedded objects problem, I imagine? It was a difficult habit to break, but baby steps, and every day is a new day. Even now, sometimes I find myself mapped and it can take days to break the craving again. It’s a real watch-out.

I’ve been working hard on the issue of the Reimann tattoo, as well. Yes, I’ve managed to get rid of that damn cellphone number, which is a blessed relief, but that’s about it so far. I wanted to put my beautiful proof there instead—but unfortunately the margin is too small to contain it.

So, good progress overall, and hopefully much more to come!

But the biggest challenge by far, the thing that’s really doing my head in, is the vocabulary. Even the third prototype hasn’t been able to touch it. The first time I fired up the Collar on the stochastic vocabulary problem, it left me quacking like a duck for a week; the second week all I could make was what you might call ‘bedroom noises’; and by the time I got back to where I was, I was grateful even to have any words at all.

This week I’ve managed to get the stochastic ratio down a bit, and make it more predictable, but there’s a long way to go. I’ll give you an example: I still can’t even say the word ‘I’. It’s all just Emma this, Emma that. I’m getting sick of my own name.

‘Emma’ indeed! Yes, this whole vocabulary thing really sucks. Mustn’t rush, though. I can’t afford to cock it up, or I’ll just be stuck forever.

Why are you looking at me like that? What did I just say? Ah… yes, I see. Every eighth word, again.

Very amusing, I’m sure.

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THE END