The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Choose Your Own Transformation: The Dame That Came

SYNOPSIS:

A trip through a noir Choose Your Own Adventure, courtesy of The Weaver, forever alters Penelope and Aaron, just as Aaron hoped… at least initially.

DISCLAIMERS:

  • This story is a work of fiction; any apparent resemblance between the characters in this story and any actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental and unintentional.
  • Do not read this story if you are under the age of 18 or if explicit sexual fiction is illegal in your jurisdiction.
  • This story contains mind control and explicit descriptions of a sexual nature. If any of these concepts disturb you, please find something else to read.
  • This story is a work of erotic fantasy. It is not meant to reflect real life, nor should it be read as an endorsement of the actions and attitudes contained within.

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

There are many CYOA paths. This just happens to be the one Voltaire chose by selecting from the options I presented. Enjoy the work? Please consider my Patreon.

“You sure this is going to be fun? It seems kind of childish.” Penelope says as she sidles her chair next to mine and gazes at the computer screen.

“My brother Noah swears by it. He said it’s, and I quote, life-changing.”

“Yeah. I’m sure. I can’t wait to say an online Choose Your Own Adventure changed my life. But hey, if a little of your brother’s success could rub off on you, I’m all for it. I’m starting to think I picked the wrong Vaughn brother.”

I shrug, trying not to feel the sting of her barb.

“Whoa.” Penelope says, swaying into me as the site loads. The wavering screen elicits a seasick feeling even in me.

And I was prepared for it.

As the screen settles, the list of potential “adventures” appears:

Building a Better Relationship
Inflation!
Invaders of the Nether Realm
Journey to Uranus
Mystery of the Grand Tetons
One Perfect Date
Prisoner of the Master
Slice of Heaven
The Cave of Remaking
The Curse of the Pink Cookie
The Dame That Came
The Lost Canal
The Secret of the Box
Treasure Trove of Wonder Untold
(more)

“Pass.” She says, dismissively.

“You want me to click the more button?”

“It’s just going to be more of the same, right? They seem like thinly veiled innuendoes. Grand Tetons? Nether realm? Pink cookie? Breasts, butt, vag, in order. When I said you could pick tonight’s entertainment, I thought I’d be sitting through another action flick, not this perverted site.”

“First, you thought it was childish. Now, perverted. Make up your mind.” I say with a jovial tone.

“Pass.” She groans.

I hold up my phone. “What’s that? The fair police, you say?” I fake hang up and continue. “Sorry. They said we had to do this. But hey, since you’re against it, I let you pick the title even though it’s my night to choose.”

“Ugh. You’re sitting through a chick flick double feature next date night.”

I smile and lean back. “I accept that punishment.”

“Fine,” she says in a huff. “I’m clicking The Dame That Came seeing as that’s apparently trying to cover up what it is the least.”

Penelope reaches over and clicks that title. The screen sways again, then settles. When prompted for my name, I type in “Aaron Vaughn.“

Are you both over 18?
Yes.
No.

“Did I miss you clicking something that said there were two of us?” Penelope asks.

“Yeah, didn’t you see that?” I lie.

“No. And for that, I’m in charge of the mouse from here on out, you got that, mister?”

“Ladies choice it is.”

Penelope clicks yes.

From here on out, all of the sections will end with multiple options to continue.
Do you understand?
Yes.
No.

“A lot of hoops to jump through.” Penelope says impatiently before she clicks yes.

To which gender do you identify:
Female
Male

“Since you used your name, I’m going to list you as ‘male.’” Penelope snarks.

“I appreciate that.”

Apparently, this was the last of the startup questions. The computer screen wiggles and wavers more than before. I look over at Penelope. She looks like she’s had one drink too many. I regard her for a moment as she is. Conventionally pretty, in a girl next door way, though not outstanding in any specific areas. Dark and wavy brunette hair. Date night makeup, which is to say a hair more than her usual “barely there” look. Clothes that err more towards comfort than style.

Suddenly, we’re right as rain. The story has loaded and we start to read.

The girl walks into your office just as lightning strikes. Not a good omen in your line of work. Neither is the fact that she’s a looker, dressed to the nines. No place for a dame like that in a dingy office like yours. Your cobwebs have cobwebs. On closer examination, you see she’s been crying.

“Drink?” You ask and she shakes you off.

You sit on the edge of your desk and offer her a seat in front of you.

She talks in stops and starts, punctuated by tears. “My brother… Missing. His apartment… Trashed. Don’t know why anyone… would take issue with him. He wouldn’t harm a fly. I need you to find him, Mr. Vaughn. Find him and bring him home.”

I offer her my handkerchief while I ponder her tale.

Aaron, do you—
Take her story at face value
Assume she’s lying

“Let’s take her story at face value.” Penelope says.

“Are you mad, woman?!? What detective story doesn’t begin with a lying femme fatale? Seriously, name one.”

Penelope, though, continues to be resigned. “I’ve made my choice.”

“You just want me to be the worst detective in the history of noir, don’t you?”

She just smiles and says, “Maybe…”

Penelope selects—Take her story at face value.

Looking over at her, I think one of the best things we have is a deep and profound mutual trust. If Penelope handed me a gun and said it wasn’t loaded, I would put it to my head and keep pulling the trigger and I know she would do the same if I told her so. We snuggle closer to each other at the exact same moment and continue reading.

“Slow down. Slow down. Let me ask a couple of questions.”

She blows into my offered handkerchief and nods, slowly.

“What’s your name?”

“Penelope. Penelope Stander.”

I make notes in my pocketbook as she answers. “And your brother?”

“Jonathan Stander.”

“Where is your brother’s apartment?”

“45th and 6th. Above the Chinese food place. Number 231.”

“And where did he work?”

“The Key Club. On 9th.”

I’ve heard of the joint. Everyone’s heard of the joint. Den of iniquity run by the mob. Could be nothing… or everything. “What did he do there?”

She looks up, finally making eye contact. Her crystal blue eyes perfectly framed by her dark hair. “He’s a bartender.”

Aaron, where do you start your investigation—
His apartment
His place of employment

“Weird.” Penelope says.

“How so?” I ask.

“Well, she has my name, the same color eyes, and a brother named Jonathan just like me.”

“That is weird.”

“Are you sure you didn’t populate this with information?”

I square up her shoulders and look deep into her crystal blue eyes. “I would never do something like that. You and me? We keep everything in the open. Everything.”

“I know.” She says and then nods with herself. “I know.”

“So, what do you think—apartment or job?”

“Seeing as I’ve been to Jon’s apartment, I’d love to see if they’re similar.”

“Click away, my love.”

Penelope selects—His apartment.

I knew that the subject matter could be a bit adult based on what my brother hinted at, and the need to confirm age to start the whole journey, but the sexiest part of the experience was deciding to do it in our around-the-house clothes. Of course, our definition of around-the-house clothes might be different than others. I’m only wearing my boxers. Penelope wears a near transparent negligee. This serves to showcase her large, hard nipples atop her perky little breasts.

You arrive at Jonathan’s apartment and it has been completely tossed, keeping in line with Penelope’s story. Your first thought is, “Someone was searching for something.” You wonder if they found it. Despite your trusting nature, you’re a good sleuth. The first sore thumb in the scene is the presence of a reel-to-reel projector, but no reels to speak of. You slowly, methodically conduct your own search and nearly give up because of the thorough nature the person trashed the place. Then you realize. The large portrait on the wall hasn’t been moved. Perhaps it was too big for the person in question to move. It takes all your might to pull it down, flip it over, and lean it against the wall.

Taped to the back, a film reel and a note.

Aaron, which is more significant?
The film reel
The note

“That sound like your brother’s apartment?” I ask.

“Well, he’s not a tidy person, so almost exactly on that front. No large unwieldy portraits there, though, last I checked, so not as creepy as describing me to a T.”

“What option sounds more promising to you?”

“As much as I’m interested in what’s on that reel, I think the note will be easier to process.”

“Click away.”

Penelope selects—The note.

“I just realized something.” Penelope says, turning away from the computer to face me.

“What’s that?” I say, purposefully not turning from the computer.

Penelope grabs me by the shoulders and physically aligns me with her. “You haven’t paid me yet.”

Penelope and I stick to a very simple system of quid pro quo—do something, get something. It’s how we keep the relationship fair and balanced.

“And what do I owe you for?” I ask.

“For agreeing to do this with you.” She replies.

“Pretty sure you owe me for letting you tag along.”

“Sort it out once we finish the story?”

“That seems fair.”

You unfold the note.

Its message is brief.

P—

Pay me or this gets leaked.

—J

You suspect that the P in the note is Penelope and the J in the note is Jonathan. He’s extorting her for whatever’s on this reel. Doesn’t sound very brotherly. Not brotherly at all.

Aaron, do you—
Confront Penelope on her story
Play the film reel
Investigate Jonathan’s work

“Well?” I ask.

“To the bar!” she replies.

Penelope selects—Investigate Jonathan’s work.

Three shots in, my computer screen is a little blurry. Beyond that, Penelope sits in my lap as yet another distraction. She gets affectionate when we start drinking, which is typically nightly. And when she’s affectionate, I’m affectionate. Quid pro quo and whatnot. I’d throw her to the ground and ravage her right now if I weren’t somehow compelled to finish the story. Somehow, we maintain a steady stream of touching and rubbing and kissing without escalation to the next level. Damned if I know how.

It’s not even nighttime but there’s a bouncer at the door to the Key Club. Must be to keep the undesirables out. You hope that doesn’t include you. You’re ready to slip him a fin as you ask, “Hey, can you tell me anything about a drink slinger named Jonathan?”

The mountain of a man in front of you, looks at you quizzically for a moment, then says, “You mean him?” as he points in the direction of the bar and a man cutting fruit.

You approach.

“Jonathan?” You ask.

“Who’s asking?” He retorts.

“Concerned citizen.” You say and drop the note and reel onto the bar.

“I’d ask where you got that, but I already know.” He stops cutting, but the small paring knife is still in his hand. “She put you up to this.”

“You mind connecting a few dots for me?”

“You must’ve watched the film…”

You shift uncomfortably. “Didn’t seem right.”

“Right? You wanna talk about right after ransacking my place?”

“For the record, I was there post-ransacking.”

“She probably tossed the place.”

“Penelope?”

“You got that right. The dames a whore, spreading her legs for any gent with a cent. I just happened to catch her on camera with a certain high-level official who, if you don’t already know, will remain nameless. I told her he would continue to remain nameless if she laced my palm. I came home to find my apartment muddied, then came to the safest place I know… here. There’s eyes always on you here.”

You look around. His assessment seems right. Even with the limited clientele, there’s a couple professional somebodies scattered amongst them.

“She pay you upfront?” He asks. “Because that’s all you’re leaving here with.” He seizes the note and reel.

It’s the second time you shift uncomfortably, having fallen for her sucker story and now safely delivered a blackmailer his assets.

Aaron, do you—
Accept that you’ve been sold a sucker story by a whore
Grab the reel and run

“I’m not accepting… Whatever.”

“You’re drunk.”

“You’re drunk!”

“Pick the fun one!!”

I select—Grab the reel and run.

I look around my apartment and see the windfall from our shared kleptomania. My brother Noah works hard to achieve his wealth. Way too hard. Penelope and I? We just have fun and steal what we want. It doesn’t hurt that we’re so turned on by the rush that we fuck like there’s no tomorrow as soon as we’re back at the apartment. A little thievery is our version of foreplay. The couple that steals together, stays together. That’s our motto and way of life.

The computer I’m reading this Choose Your Own Adventure on?

Fell off a truck.

You return to your office to find Penelope waiting for you.

“You got something for me?” She says and you flash her the film reel.

“What’s it to ya?” You ask.

That’s when she pulls the heater from her coat and trains you in her sights.

“Depends. You like the amount of holes your body currently has?”

She opens her hand and gestures that you fill it with your ill-gotten reel.

Aaron, do you—
Try to get the drop on her
Hand over the reel

“I don’t know about you, but I do actually like the amount of holes my body currently has.”

I select—Hand over the reel.

Penelope puckers her lips for the camera. We’re about to do another live POV webcast where she’ll strip and give me (and our viewers) jerk off instructions. I work the camera with one hand and my cock with the other. This is our game. We share our lust with whoever’s watching. Something about broadcasting her to the world gets me hard every time. Thankfully, it’s as much a turn on to her as it is to me. I give her the signal and she begins to unbutton her shirt.

“What do you mean? I’ve never done this before…”

Her innocent act is possibly impaired by her slight intoxication… or maybe it’s enhanced by it. She sounds younger and definitely a little out of control. Slow, but needy.

“Are you getting hard for me?” She asks the camera chastely and I nod. She catches sight of my stiff rod and smiles. “We’re going to have to do something about that. Maybe I can help.”

She plays with the last button on her shirt. “Would it help if this came off?”

She undoes it to reveal her lacy bra beneath. “What about this? Should I take this off? Do you want to see my boobies? Do you want my nipples to get hard in the cold air?”

She reaches behind her back to unclasp it, setting her tits free.

“I can’t believe you’re getting all hard for me. I love when you slowly stroke your hand up and down on your cock while looking at my titties.” She lifts a nipple to her mouth to suck on it. “I want you to cum on my titties, but not quite yet. Not while there’s still more of me to unwrap.”

She teases the camera spreading her legs apart and closing them. “I bet you want me to take these pants off. Maybe if you stroke your cock a little faster I will. Not too fast. I don’t want you to cum until I say.”

She peels her skin-tight jeans off, revealing white cotton panties that are clearly already wet.

“Oh no.” She says, mock concern. “Oh no. This won’t do. This won’t do at all. Look at how soaked my panties are. And I haven’t even started to do this—“

She sticks her right hand down the panties and starts rubbing furiously.

She leans back with a moan.

“You want me to take these panties off?” She teases and toys with the panties, starting to remove them, then stopping a few times. “If I take these soaked panties off, I just know I’m going to have to cum. And when I cum, I want you to cum.”

She turns away from the camera, showing her pert panty-covered ass. She speaks over her shoulder. “You ready?” Keeping her legs straight, she pulls her panties down in one quick motion, revealing her full ass to the camera. “I bet you want to slap this ass.” She slaps her ass once. “I bet you want to spank this ass.” She hits her ass even harder this time, leaving a full red handprint where she struck it. “I bet you want to grip this ass and never let go.” Using both hands, she white knuckle grips her ass, spreading her cheeks. “Later. I think you promised to coat my titties with your sperm first.”

Penelope whirls around, dropping to the ground, and spreading her legs wide. She starts to piston two fingers into her wet hole. She starts fast and somehow manages to only pick up speed.

She flings her head back, and bites her lip. I know what that means. It means she’s ready to cum. I step up to her so that she can reach out with her free hand to stroke my cock. She leans in to lick the tip a couple of times and I catch that on camera.

“Okay stud, paint my tits. Coat me with your cum.”

On command, I drop a load right between her tits. Feeling my hot cum on her chest sends her over and she screams out in orgasm.

As she comes down from her cum, she says what she always says at the end of our streams. Fans think it’s for them, but it’s really for me.

“I need you. I need you. I need you.”

Just like the femme fatale in the story, my Penelope is always hot, wet, and very, very needy.