The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Title: Good Fortunes

(story concept by AWMBH)

AN: This story is intended to be enjoyed as a fantasy by persons over the age of 18—similar actions if undertaken in real life would be deeply unethical and probably illegal. © MoldedMind, 2022.

* * *

Jordan was, overall, happy with his life, though with the recent death of his parents, it had entered a slightly sadder phase.

They had died unpredictably in an accident. He hadn’t been ready for it, hadn’t expected it. But they had died, he had inherited— they’d left him their house, his old childhood home, and he’d been glad to move back in and honor their memory, honor how happy he’d been there in his childhood. There had been other benefits to moving back in, too. He could keep the house for free, instead of an apartment which he’d have to pay for. It meant that 90% of his money could be spent on entertainment, on whatever he liked, instead of on living expenses. He was a practical guy. It had just made sense.

Another positive in receiving the house was that Jordan would have been hard-pressed to ever buy a house on his own, and he was glad to have a real asset, glad to own a piece of real estate title and deed and all. That and the fact that the place he’d moved into held happy memories for him were the silver linings to losing his parents, but it did make him a bit sad. In losing them he had not just lost them. He’d lost his primary social contacts; before their deaths he’d had no other friends, but it hadn’t gotten to them much.

He’d spoken to either his mother or father or both on the phone every single day; and he’d usually gone over to their house, which was now his house, once or twice or three times a week for dinner. They’d given him the needed social interaction his life was missing, had always been kind and caring to him, and provided stimulating conversation; and a nice homecooked meal whenever he stopped by. Without them now, he missed the human contact. He went days without speaking to another person, sometimes weeks if he didn’t have any errands to run which brought him in contact with customer service personnel. He had to admit that he was lonely.

But there were good things in his life. He’d actually enjoyed his life; was genuinely contented with it, liked his job, liked his hobbies, looked forward to each new coming day. He’d felt that way before his parents’ death; those good things had been present then. They were still present now. He liked his job; he was a programmer, and he worked from home. He’d always enjoyed the independence it had afforded him, the intellectual challenges it presented. He could feel it literally expanding his mind as he worked sometimes, on particularly difficult projects. He liked that; was sure it grew his intelligence, his worldview. He’d loved his job before. He still did now. It added real happiness and enjoyment to his days.

But when his work for the day ended, day by day, he did, partly, wish there was someone to share his spare time with. Someone to keep him company, enjoy himself with. Then sometimes to stave off this feeling he would work a bit of overtime to enjoy himself more.

He’d never become more social even with the loss of his parents, or the acquisition of the house, his moving into it. He’d stayed a recluse, and though he’d sort of half-wished that that could change, he hadn’t wished for that strongly enough to do anything about it that could possibly change it.

He just kept on living his life the way he had been. He made enough from his programming work to maintain the house— and doing that felt a bit like preserving his parents memory, too— made enough pay for the necessary repairs when they came up, year to year. Otherwise he barely went out, except those handful of times a month for errands, and fleeting human interaction. And all the rest of Jordan’s money was spent on frivolous things ordered online and delivered to his door by drone, those orders never necessitating any human interaction at all.

It wasn’t as if there was nothing he could do about his loneliness in the evenings. Certain forms of entertainment could scratch that itch for him. His preferred form was watching his favorite twitch streamer, Maddie. She was an e-girl, a hot tub streamer. And he liked watching her a lot. He’d actually gone to high school with her; he’d had every day peers, once, before he’d chosen a solitary career, and she had been one of them, back in those days.

He kept her streams on in the background at all times. He liked hearing her voice. He liked her, but he’d never had the courage to ask her out back in high school, though he’d liked her, foolishly, for that long.

When Jordan watched Maddie, he found there was something in the way she talked to the camera, to her viewers. That quality in her speech made Jordan feel like she was talking to him, that he was actually spending time with someone. It kept the loneliness abated.

Watching Maddie was his preferred pastime, but she was a medicine for loneliness. There were other forms of entertainment that he enjoyed just for the sake of them in themselves; which never touched his loneliness at all— he didn’t expect them to.

One of these was mining cryptocurrency. There was a video game he liked to play a lot of; and one of the components of the game was doing real cryptocurrency mining in game. He did it quite frequently. After so long playing, he’d beaten the game itself many times over and unlocked its every special feature. He’d plumbed it for everything, but the crypto mining could be done indefinitely. Sometimes— often times, he went into the game just to be able to do something mindlessly for a few hours; and he’d have his streamer, Maddie, on in the background for company.

He’d mined several hundred thousand dollars’ worth of the game’s cryptocurrency... it was too bad it was only worth cents on the dollar when converted back into real money.

But Jordan had been lucky from a certain perspective in getting his own house at no cost, in acquiring an appreciating asset so easily. Lucky also from a certain perspective in establishing himself in a career he could direct himself, in which he did not have to answer to anyone. And he turned out to be lucky again when, suddenly, the value of his cryptocurrency changed. What he’d mined, just for fun— as a nervous tic, just to pass the time— had suddenly shot up in estimation and been valued at several hundred thousand dollars per unit. And he had several hundred thousand dollars worth. Like that, he was a millionaire many times over.

As soon as the value jump happened he cashed out immediately. He didn’t care if the value went up further. He wasn’t greedy. He just wanted to get out before it could crash back down to nothing. He knew enough about the market to know it eventually would.

So now he was an anonymous millionaire: so what? It didn’t change his life much. He had been a recluse for so long he wasn’t quite sure how to emerge. He kept up his routine: repairs on the house, farmed out to contractors and specialists only when they went beyond what he could do himself. He fixed his house up a bit to a slightly higher standard of quality; decked out his computer with the latest state of the art tech and he was done with his upgrades. Apart from that, he did nothing. With his newfound fortune he just wasn’t quite sure what to do, so he kept to his typical habits.

Then a change came to find him and disrupt his routines and habits. One day, a man came to Jordan’s door; a novelty in itself, when he didn’t get any visitors usually.

Jordan looked out the peephole, and saw the man was standing next to a very lovely woman dressed in a dress that was just a little too revealing.

Curious, he opened the door.

“Hello,” the man said. “I’m a hypnoslave salesman; and I wondered if you might be interested in purchasing some of our merchandise today?”

Jordan had so many questions all at once. The least intelligent one came out first, as is wont to happen in situations like this.

“Do you just go door to door?” He couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice.

“We certainly do not,” the man said. Jordan’s eyes slipped to the woman next to the salesman; she was smiling patiently, eyes a little unfocused, as if this whole conversation was going right past her. “We keep tabs in the communities we operate in on people who come into sudden money; you may be anonymous to the rest of the world, Mr. Landry, but not to us. We like our customers to be discreet, naturally; and you’re our ideal type, you’ve kept everything about this money close to your chest since you received it, so we trust you to keep your slave secret, should you choose to purchase one.”

That had done away with a few of Jordan’s preliminary questions, some of which he hadn’t even had to ask. So he could move onto the more important, central question; the one he should maybe have asked first. If he had, he would have looked a little less like a fool.

“Your slaves,” Jordan repeated— still a little dumbfounded. He couldn’t recover and make himself seem suave, apparently. “What do you mean by that?”

The salesman gestured to the woman beside him with both hands, in a wide-armed presentation. “This is a specimen,” he said. “Slaves like her; women as beautiful as her or more, trained by hypnosis and pleasure reinforcement to obey any command; to give themselves to any Master with no restraint and serve him completely, and joyfully, for as long as he wants them.”

“No,” Jordan scoffed. It couldn’t be. Things like this weren’t real— didn’t happen to him.

But then again, becoming a multi-millionaire overnight was also the kind of thing that didn’t happen to him; but it had.

“That’s why I’ve brought Terri here, to demonstrate in practice,” the salesman said. “I thought you might have trouble believing. But you can keep her, and do anything you like with her; for an entire day; and tomorrow, down to the hour, I will come back and collect her again, and you can tell me at that time if you’d like to make a purchase or not.”

It sounded more than fair to him. “Alright. I accept.”

“Terri, please enter and follow Jordan, now. For the next day, you belong to him completely.”

“Yes, Master,” Terri said, for a moment sharing an intense gaze with the salesman. Then she turned to Jordan, and smiled too— it was a dazzling smile, its wattage too bright; for a moment, Jordan felt he might be able to see the afterimage of it on his retinas. “I’ll be saying that to you soon, Master, I hope!” Terri said, eagerly.

“Enjoy,” the salesman said with a smile. “I’ll be back tomorrow to hear your decision.”

Terri stepped through the front doorway of Jordan’s house; and the salesman gave a goodbye nod of his head; the image of which was cut off the minute later as Terri pulled the door shut behind herself.

Jordan still couldn’t quite believe what the salesman had said was true. He tried the most simple test first.

“Follow me into the living room, and sit down with me on the sofa.”

Terri gave a demure tilt of her head, acknowledging she had heard, she had internalized, she would do— and when Jordan started walking, Terri was right behind him, right to the sofa, and sat down with him when he moved to sit.

“So you’ll do anything for me,” Jordan spoke experimentally. The idea seemed strange to him— something with no conditions, no limits. He’d never had such a thing; there had to be some hidden limitation, a catch that had been concealed up until now.

“I’ll do anything,” Terri agreed— she seemed so happy to be having this conversation. Jordan didn’t know what to make of it.

He frowned. “Really anything? Surely not anything illegal— or something you personally found immoral, or otherwise reprehensible?”

Terri seemed to be shimmering with joy when he asked this question— as if she imagined he would like her answer, and felt especially privileged to be able to give him something he liked. Shimmering— she was a lamp that had not been lit until she’d found something she could do for him which she imagined would make him happy. It was enthralling to watch— so then he just watched, watched her teeming in place, teeming to the brim with that joy and fullness of purpose. She shone; it made her slightly-above-average beauty into something remarkable.

“Really anything,” Terri agreed. “I’ll break any law you ask me to— and there is no morality for me. What is moral and right is whatever you tell me. Whatever you tell me is whatever I want; I have no internal conscience anymore, no internal will of my own that would speak up and interfere. Anything you say, I will do.”

It was starting to sound convincing. Jordan reflected on this new information.

If she was really willing to do anything— she likely wouldn’t bat an eye if he asked her to play the part of a stereotypical criminal; rob a bank, hold up a convenience store. If he asked her to kill somebody— she would probably do it. If he even asked her to annihilate herself by suicide, she would probably do that too. Though it seemed someone else had already annihilated her, if there was nothing left inside of a self that might desire independently or object to the demands put upon it. He could ask her to physically annihilate herself, though; whether or not she’d been internally annihilated already. She would do it.

But Jordan had not changed his lifestyle overmuch when he’d received his windfallen fortune— he had been contented with his pre-wealth life, he was contented with his life now. He had no secret yen to commit crimes and get away with them; or to play the orchestrator of crime, imagining himself a crime boss for a day.

And it would be a logistical nightmare, anyway— even if Terri were willing to commit a crime, it didn’t mean she would get away with it; and he hadn’t cleared any of this with the salesman first. He didn’t know if Terri could be gotten back if she were captured, and she was only Jordan’s property on loan. He didn’t want to put her out of commission when she was due to be returned.

It did give him a shiver of power, though, when he felt what it would be like to command that kind of obedience. Obedience that would stop at nothing, obedience that would obey anything. Even theft.

Even murder.

Even self-murder.

But he still just couldn’t quite believe there was nothing left inside of whoever Terri had been before. “Do you remember what they did to you that changed you? Does it make you angry?”

Terri smiled again in that shimmering way, once more pleased to please him by providing information she thought he would like. “I remember it very well, Master— it was the most pleasurable, most enjoyable, most spiritual experience of my life, and I was so lucky to be chosen for slavery. I like to remember what happened to me sometimes, how it felt to be changed— it’s like feeling over fresh skin with touch; it helps me feel the outline of my current obedience, when I’m between Masters.”

The look in her eyes was only appreciative— she really did feel no resentment about this at all.

“What about other women?” Jordan looked from her one eye to the other, peering in, searching for any hint of anger. “If another woman were captured, and went through the same treatment you experienced, how would that make you feel?”

Sometimes repressed feelings about the self came out when they were projected onto the other.

But Terri only smiled. “I would feel happy for her; she would be as lucky as I was, to learn the joy of total obedience.”

Jordan had to admit— it seemed that what had been done to her had been incredibly thorough. She really was his to enjoy.

He had tested her to his satisfaction— at least, he’d tested her to the limit of his ability. He was drawing a blank when he tried thinking of anything else he could ask; there was no point in delaying any longer.

Not when she was so beautiful.

“Take me out, Terri,” Jordan said; weighing his power as he gave it out. It felt strange to hold. “Put me in your mouth, and suck me off.”

“With greatest pleasure, Master,” Terri said, reverently, and bowed her head.

She leaned over him on the couch, without him even having to shift back, and got him out with expert skill.

Then she enfolded him in her hot, wet mouth; pursed her lips around him, and began to suck and lick with the same expert skill her undressing of him had belied.

He’d never actually experienced this before; Maddie had been the one girl he’d ever liked; he’d had no other peers to develop feelings for since then, so he simply had never had any kind of sex; this was his first sexual experience with another— but he didn’t feel the fumbling virgin at all. Perhaps because every movement of Terri’s mouth seemed to endow power onto him. She saw him as all-powerful; majestic; so he felt it, felt like something exalted and not the shy shrinking man he usually was.

It was addictive.

She grew only more enthusiastic as she continued her ministrations; swirling tongue giving way to plunging throat, tight around him when she swallowed on nothingness, then lips kissing and sucking at the head of him while her hand worked his shaft. She moved so fluidly between actions it was hard to separate ends and beginnings. One thing was happening and then another— Jordan was losing himself in the pleasure. He felt literally electrified by it; he’d known the pleasure of his own hand, the pleasure of his imagination, never the pleasure of a woman’s mouth, and he was finding Terri’s mouth most hospitable indeed.

She sucked a little harder on him— all sensations seemed to crystallize at once; he felt himself go rock hard, and then he was shooting down her throat very suddenly; he pumped himself back into her mouth to drive every last drop of ejaculate he had inside into her, and she was swallowing it down almost faster than he could spray it out.

The rest of the day, into that night, followed a similar track; when he could not physically fuck her, he had her massage him until he was able to be hard again; then they would fuck some more. The whole thing was like a long wet dream, hazy, perpetual. The accumulated pleasure got to such a point that Jordan felt he’d always been in the dream. It had that dream logic. There was no beginning, no story of how he’d gotten there— he’d simply always been in the dream.

Night gave way to morning; Jordan hadn’t slept, but didn’t want to stop. His programming work for that day was forgotten; he only had until that afternoon to get the most out of Terri that he could.

They had just gone another round when the knock on the door was heard.

Jordan knew immediately that it meant his time was up. That did disappoint him; but he made himself decent, told Terri to do the same, and the two of them went down to the front together.

“So, Mr. Landry,” The salesman said, when Jordan opened the door. Are you interested in doing business?”

Jordan nodded eagerly. “Very interested.”

The salesman gave a sure gesture of his hand to Terri; she stiffened in place, and then moved back to stand next to him. Just like that, wordlessly, he had transferred ownership of her back to himself.

“Let’s have a seat,” the salesman said. “I’ll show you my folio.”

They sat down at the table in Jordan’s kitchen; Terri stayed standing attentively next to the salesman, and a few steps back.

The salesman had a three-ring binder, full of clear plastic sleeves which contained photos. He passed it across the table to Jordan, who eagerly started turning the pages.

Each sheet in the binder had a picture of a woman; some were comparable in beauty to Terri; some were much more beautiful, to near-supermodel quality or better.

“I notice there are no prices marked,” Jordan said. “Is this the catch? A million dollars a slave— my fortune for a slave?”

The salesman laughed. “Only a few hundred thousand each— how many hundreds of thousands depends on the slave. I can tell you the specific price of any girl that interests you.”

Jordan had thought, at first, of trying to buy Terri— and sure enough, her photo was in the binder too— but seeing her next to all these other women, some of whom were clearly more impressive than her, caused his interest to wane.

“We do ask that you only purchase one slave— that’s our policy, one per customer per sales interaction. If we ever choose to revisit you, you’ll have the option of buying one more in that separate interaction; and for as many visits as we ever pay you. But we may only ever come once. That’s up to us.”

It seemed fair enough to Jordan; prevented anyone from buying up their whole supply. One would be more than enough for him, anyway.

He reached the end of the binder. The last sheet contained only a paper with a small line of type. Buyer’s Choice.

“Buyer’s Choice— what does that mean?” Jordan looked up to the salesman excitedly.

“For a flat fee of $500,000 we’ll take any girl of your choosing, anyone you know, and we’ll convert her into a slave for you to keep.”

When Jordan heard that, he knew his decision had been made. He didn’t want just another a girl from the binder. He wanted a custom girl, made just for him; and he knew which girl he wanted her to be made out of.

“Maddie Forrester,” he said. “I want her.”

The salesman frowned, scratched the side of his face. “The twitch streamer?”

“That’s her.”

The salesman shook his head. “That would be difficult.” He scratched his cheek with the opposite hand again. “She’s such a public figure; she would be missed.”

He was opening his mouth in further protest, and he seemed about to tell Jordan that it was absolutely impossible. But in that moment, Jordan had an idea.

He smiled, and told it to the salesman.

The salesman smiled too.

* * *

It was another day for Maddie; she didn’t have much planned, beyond doing another twitch stream; she had to go through her morning routine first, eat something, and do her skincare and makeup routine. She wasn’t expecting anything else to happen; but after she’d eaten breakfast, and as she was making herself up, she was interrupted when saw that someone was calling her on her cellphone.

It was a man’s voice when she answered.

“Maddie Forrester,” she answered.

“Hi, Maddie,” the man said. “I’m from a social media organization; we offer free workshops to up-and-coming social media figures, to help them grow on their platforms. And with the way you’ve been gaining subscribers on twitch, you meet our criteria for an up-and-comer. Would you like to come in to our offices, and take a free workshop from us on how you can improve your content even more?”

Maddie’s pride was a bit tickled; to think that someone thought she was an up-and-comer! It was sweet recognition; she’d been working hard, putting a lot of effort into improving her twitch streamer. It was nice to think someone had noticed; and in such a solitary profession, there weren’t a lot of opportunities for professional development. She was glad that one such opportunity had come to find her, through no effort of her own.

“I’m very interested,” Maddie said, unable to suppress a smile. “When does this workshop take place?”

“Well,” the man said. “We can fit it around your schedule, but if you were able to come in today, we could immediately accommodate you.”

“Today?” Maddie echoed; she thought about it. It would mean having to miss her daily stream; but she was curious now, eager to learn what could be learn, to improve professionally as she could improve. She didn’t want to wait. “Today will be fine. What’s the address of the place the workshop will be held?”

The man told her, and she wrote it down onto a scrap of paper.

“What time?” She asked.

“As soon as it’s convenient for you,” the man said.

“I’ll leave in just a few minutes.”

She thanked the man, and hung up. She took a second to log onto her twitch account to cancel her automatically scheduled stream; she liked letting them be automated, with all the settings already in place so she just had to sit herself in front of her camera at the right time; but it meant she had to cancel it now, or else her stream would come online and she wouldn’t be there.

She also posted a notice to her stream page. If any of her viewers came looking for her, they’d see her announcement that she was gone for professional development and it wouldn’t have to be a mystery to them.

She’d delayed long enough; she finished up getting ready, in a quick hurry; and then went down and got in her car. Streaming paid well enough she’d afforded it handily; and she had the address written on the paper. She drove there as quickly as was safe; the building was nondescript, in her town’s industrial district; it looked like any of the other impersonal, metal sided buildings.

When she entered, the girl at the desk seemed to know who she was, and immediately led her down the hallway into a room; there were a series of folding chairs in there, for other attendees Maddie guessed.

But the other attendees never came. The lights came down, and strobing lights were projected onto the wall in front of her... lights that strobed... then turned, and spiraled, then strobed again... she thought of standing in the dark and going to the door, at first... and then she thought of nothing at all.

* * *

Jordan was coming back to his house after completing one of his semi-regular errands; he’d done his groceries the week before, but since he was the one who generally did all the repairs on his own house, he’d needed to go to the hardware store to pick a few things. There were one or two small things that needed fixes, and he hadn’t had the parts for them, so he’d ran out one weekday afternoon to get to the hardware store and back quickly.

He was sure he had locked the door when he had went; but now, when he put his hand around the knob, he found it unlocked— “Hello?” He called out, as he pushed the open door inwards and passed through the door. He dropped his hardware store bag to the ground— unfortunately it had only been small parts that he’d needed, so there was nothing in there that could act as a good weapon for him.

There was no one in the main part of the house, not that he could see— and nothing looked stolen, or out of place. This was turning out to be a very strange break in. After assessing that the majority of his things were still there and still intact, he doubled back to close the door behind him. One intruder at a time was enough.

He headed further into the house, in the direction of his bedroom.

She was there. Maddie; lying on the bed— wearing only a bikini top and bottom— with heavily lidded eyes whose pupils were so dilated they didn’t seem to take in the overhead light above her in at all. Of course— her processing was done. When he’d found the door open, that should have been his first guess. But he’d been over in his head how he imagined it would be when she was finally done— he’d pictured the salesman come back with his demonstrative slave to present Maddie to him personally. Or he’d imagined they would have left Maddie in his living room, standing where the example slave had stood. He hadn’t thought they’d bring her back here, and lay her out naked, the delivery people disappearing before he came back, having left not notice— only her.

He had thought of her every day since he’d placed his order for her. He’d thought of her being processed; sometimes with lust, sometimes with impatience. The days between ordering her and finding her here had been long... but now she was here.

He was so satisfied, looking at her; she was beautiful, even in a trance, even when she was completely unaware of everything and blanked out so far that she couldn’t even process the light fixture above her. She was all his now.

In the end, it didn’t matter that they had left her with no notice, and just disappeared. When he’d spoken with the salesman— he remembered now— the salesman had said what her activation trigger would be. It was on Jordan’s tongue already; he sat down on the bed, and said, “Skyscraper.”

Maddie’s eyes opened, and she smiled at him.

* * *