The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“…and Jessica’s passed out again,” I think.

Three weeks into the relationship I’d always wanted and most nights end the same way—me criticizing Jessica’s excessive drinking and Jessica passing out from the same.

On the plus side, drinking makes her horny.

On the negative side, I’m turned on by someone so out of control.

I wonder if couples counseling is off the table three weeks into a relationship. I’d love to get more control of the situation and wish there was some way to help her, to get her the help she needs; to somehow be there for her and help her get through whatever she’s going through. But she has to let me in. And that’s not something she’s willing, or able, to do. She’s got some kind of firewall up against my, or anybody else’s for that matter, help.

So, I push some of her sandy brown hair out of her face and pulls some covers over her. Tonight, she passed out on my futon while it’s still in couch-mode. Not enough room for me to join her, I head to my computer to pass the time.

I search “how to build a better relationship.”

The internet has to be better than just fake nudes and fake news.

A paid ad on top advertises:

Give your answers, get some answers. Choose Your Own Adventure: Building a Better Relationship.

If nothing else, it would provide a distraction, so I click the link.

My computer screen does somersaults, leaving me momentarily woozy.

When prompted for my name, I type in “Noah Vaughn“

Are you over 18?

Yes.

No.

I can even buy beer, legally. I select “yes.”

From here on out, all of the sections will end with multiple options to continue.

Do you understand?

Yes.

No.

Yes, I can read. I select “yes.” Again.

To which gender do you identify:

Female

Male

Unabashedly male, thank you.

Detecting another presence nearby, is this your romantic partner?

Yes.

No.

Should this be a warning bell?

Is this really scanning my environment or is it merely scamming me into thinking it is for some kind of realism?

I look over at the crappy cheap-ass futon and my drunk-ass dream girl and, with a slightly heavy heart, select “yes.”

Apparently, this was the last of the startup questions as the computer screen goes through even more somersaults as it loads.

My vision clears. My wooziness abates. I start to read.

Your arrival to the warehouse summons one of the android ambassadors to you. This model is female and formally dressed. Her voice barely registers as mechanical, with just a slight edge that triggers your assessment.

“Welcome to the showroom, Noah Vaughn. I am model KTCH-00 and I am prepared to lead you through your entire selection process. We have most of your basic account information already, but to confirm payment, will this be through a business account, personal credit line or cash in hand?”

Noah, do you pay with—

Business account

Personal credit line

Cash in hand

Unlike me, I’d like to think that story Noah has an excellent job that keeps him paid and sends him to pick up his own personal droid. Real-life me is stuck serving java to hipsters who are cool about everything, but tipping, apparently. The one upside to the establishment is the lack of judgment when I decide against shaving. And then, of course, Bean There is where I first met Jessica. She seemed as annoyed with the hipsters as I was. It was love at first sight. Probably strike one against us.

I select—Business account.

I sniff the 21-year old Scotch in my hand. What’s my line? “I like my Scotch like I like my women—by definition exactly of drinking age.” Nothing says success like a single malt. I prefer to buy them on my expense account while out traveling the world on the company dime, but hey, the company pays me enough that I can keep a couple stocked at home. Home. I’m on the road so much, “home” takes on a whole new meaning. It is nice to find Jessica waiting for me. We had a lovely dinner out. My jetlag leaves me awake and on my computer even while she sleeps in our master suite. I find ways to entertain myself, however. Like this story.

KTCH-00 continues, “And you are here for what type of model— Leisure and Recreation, Protocol, or Military?”

Noah, do you select—

Leisure and Recreation

Protocol

Military

Well, military sounds… needlessly aggressive. Leisure and Recreation sounds fun, but a bit obvious and probably even less practical. My favorite droid was always C3 and I could definitely use an assistant to keep my life, business and otherwise, in order.

I select—Protocol

“Did you need anything else?” Jessica asks.

“Could you check my fridge and see if anything needs stocking on your next grocery run? That would be great.”

I watch my assistant walk away. She’s great at everything and always a professional. I once got stuck on a call with an Italian whose English was non così buono, she offered her help, and in mere moments she was laughing, he was laughing, and the deal was closed, bringing in a cool million dollars. It seems like there’s nothing she can’t accomplish. It would be nice if, once in a while, her dress wasn’t so buttoned-up and professional. Her posture says it all. She walks her thin body around like she’s got a stick up her ass. Unfortunately, I’d prefer something else up there altogether, even if there’s little to grab onto. Hopefully, she can’t hear my sigh from the kitchen as I return to my computer screen.

“Fantastic choice. Protocol models are very useful. Now that we’ve agreed on the software, let’s work on your hardware choice.”

She steps to the side and three female forms appear.

To the right, there’s a tall thin model, almost boyish, with little to no curves.

In the middle, there’s a slightly shorter, slightly curvier model. Nothing extreme, pretty average across the board.

On the left, the model is shorter still, but all curves. Large bosom. Large hips. Large behind.

“Well..?” KTCH-00 asks.

Noah, do you choose—

The tall, thin model

The average model

The voluptuous model

Hmm. I consider Jessica, since she’s my current assistant. I’d say she is currently the tall, thin model type. A stick figure turned real girl. In an ideal world, I’d add some curves to her form, and not just those of the average model. It be nice to see her as a Russ Meyer type, even if solely for eye candy. To be honest, having an attractive assistant actually does bring a certain amount of influence. A well-timed, even if fake, laugh can put a customer in a good mood indeed.

I select—The voluptuous model.

I hear something from the kitchen, followed quickly by a breathy, “I’m okay.”

Jessica appears from around the corner, rubbing an elbow. “I misjudged a shelf. I actually thought I was taller than I am for a second.”

Her business attire does nothing to hide her amazingly well-endowed body. I vacillate between thinking her curves are real and that there’s no way something so amazing could be. Real tends to win out because Jessica doesn’t seem the type to want to go under the knife for these kinds of results. A body built for sin, but a strong spirit set against it.

“You need me to look at that elbow?” I ask.

“Nah.” She says, shifting her arm at the joint a couple times. “Seems to work just fine.”

The motion gets me thinking about something else entirely—mainly her hand stroking my stiffening cock. Before I say, or worse still do, the wrong thing, I return to the story for distraction.

“We don’t have a lot of voluptuous protocol models out there. We love catering to your unique vision.” KTCH-00 leans in closer, as if sharing a secret with you. “Traditionally, we nullify erogenous zone responses on protocol models, but that doesn’t have to be the case. We could keep them that way. We could also program normal or even heightened sensitivity, at no extra charge.”

Noah, do you choose—

Nullified erogenous zones

Normal erogenous zones

Heightened sensitivity erogenous zones

Both nullified and heightened seem cruel for opposite reasons. No one should feel nothing, but also no one should be potentially hindered by feeling too much. Normal leaves room for all kinds of potential.

I select—Normal erogenous zones.

Jessica is right next to me. She places a hand down on top of my hand. I feel her breasts press against my back as she leans down. “What are you reading?”

“It’s one of those Choose Your Own Adventure stories.” I say.

“Nice. Can I pick the next choice?” She asks.

It’s our friendly camaraderie that makes us work as more than just simple employer/assistant.

“Be my guest.”

“As a valued customer, we can offer you one of a few optional add-ons free of charge. Voice command allows you to issue verbal commands to your model. Personality matrix allows you to change your model’s personality without interruption. The Changeling package allows your model to instantly change physical features through embedded microbes.”

Noah, do you opt for—

Voice command

Personality matrix

The Changeling package

“I’m lost.” Jessica says.

I explain. “The story is all about building a protocol model robot.”

“Oh… That…” She says, pondering the options. “I mean, it would be cool to change physical features on a whim. Don’t know how practical a personality matrix is. Sounds pretty schizophrenic, if you ask me. And with my robots, I’m all about practicality and not insanity.” She says with a wide smile and broad wave of her non-mousing hand.

Jessica selects—Voice command.

I see Jessica’s hand on my mouse pad.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I scold.

She timidly looks from to my face and follows my gaze down to her offending hand. She recoils it like she’d touched a hot stove.

“Nothing, sir. I’m sorry, sir.” She says, and drops to child’s pose below me.

“What’s mine is mine, yes?”

“Yes, sir.” She answers without hesitation, though a bit muffled with her face so close to the floor.

“And you are?”

“I am yours, sir, body and soul, to do with as you please.” She shivers as she speaks.

When I brought Jessica on as an assistant, I had no concept of how deep her submissive streak ran. At first, I thought she was just eager to please. However, as I paid more and more attention, I could see her shiver a little when commanded. The harsher my voice, the bigger the shiver. I experimented at first, gently pushing boundaries in a manner I could easily dismiss and move away from should I have been wrong in my suspicions. Thankfully, I was spot-on in my assessment.

“What you will do is stay in that position while I finish this story.”

She mews her consent. “Yes, sir.”

KTCH-00 leads you and your robot towards the end of the warehouse. “There’s one last option to explore, Mr. Vaughn. Some people clothe their models for a more human-like appearance. Some don’t. This is again, obviously, at your discretion, but you can see some of the options...”

KTCH-00 waves her hand and various outfits appear holographically atop your robot model. “Our most popular options are—professional, casual, club-wear, sensual.”

Professional appears as a pantsuit and blouse combination.

Casual loses the jacket and the blouse is a little more frilly.

Club-wear balances gaudy and risqué, tight in all the places that don’t show “skin.”

Sensual barely qualifies as an outfit, pushing more towards underwear with matching garters and stockings.

Noah, do you opt for—

Professional

Casual

Club-wear

Sensual

Clothing-free

A robot doesn’t really need clothes, so…

Noah selects—Clothing-free.

My life couldn’t get better. Even now, looking down, I see the perfect curve of a naked ass, accentuated by her child’s pose.

“Jessica?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Walk slowly to the bedroom.”

“Yes, sir.”

She gets up and, as commanded, always as commanded, begins a slow, sensuous walk to my bedroom. Her shapely ass swaying deliciously and enticingly.

“And when you get there, bend over on the bed and get the pussy party started. I’ll be in when the moaning starts.”

She shudders, pausing briefly. “Yes, sir.”

The addition of a nudist submissive to my life was a godsend.

Tonight, like every night, we’ll fuck until Jessica passes out.