The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I’ve just installed myself on the couch for an evening with wine, chocolate and Netflix, when the doorbell rings.

My younger sister Bobbi is frantically pacing on the porch. She looks and acts as if she’s in trouble; her hair is a mess and her eyes betray mild panic.

“Oh, Miri, I’m so glad you’re home,” she exclaims. “I’ve totally clusterfucked up.”

I usher her in and pour her a glass of wine, while Bobbi keeps on rambling that she somehow made a total mess of something. It takes her about half an hour and two glasses of wine to calm down sufficiently and tell a more or less coherent story.

“I guess you remember, but you know that Adam lived a few months at my place, after his home burnt down,” Bobbi starts out.

“Uh-huh,” I say. Adam is our younger brother. We had always been fond of him, as you’re supposed to be, but he was a bit of a geek, which made it hard to truly like him.

“He was between jobs, right?”

“If you call his stints a job.” Bobbi sighs. “I never understood how he earned his money. Anyway, I had the impression he wanted to lie low for a while, and that therefore he moved in with me. After a few months it seemed he felt safe and left again. That was two, no three years ago.”

“Yeah, I wonder how he’s doing,” I say. “He moved up North, right? Alaska?”

“Yeah, anyway, Adam left most of his stuff clogging my basement, and I finally decided to get rid of it.”

“Did you warn him?”

“I texted him several times. Once, he answered that I should burn it all. Anyway, I went through his stuff and most of it was just junk. But I came across a CD-ROM, labeled ‘family pictures’. Of course I checked that one out, because there are hardly any pictures of our family left after that fire.” Bobbi sighs. “But there were no pictures; just one program file called MasterPC.”

I shrug: “Sounds like a name for an Operating System.”

“It wasn’t. I was curious why Adam would’ve mislabeled this program as ‘family pictures’; he was a bit paranoid so I reckoned it have been important. So I installed the program.”

“I would’ve done the same, I guess.”

“It was a really weird program, and first I thought it was just a prank.” Suddenly Bobbi is losing herself again. “But, you know, Miri, it was fucking serious.”

Bobbi needed another glass of wine before she could continue.

“So I installed and started up this master PC program. If you start it up, you get this freaky message: ‘Welcome to the Master Command Center... where the Master allows you to become a virtual god to the people around you... Now, you possess the power to bend their reality to your specifications..”

I laughed. “That’s fucking ridiculous.”

“I thought so, but it ain’t.”

Bobbi starts to describe what happened in detail. I sense she takes this long detour to delay the painful part of her story, whatever this painful part would be: “So I clicked away this freaky message and I got this request to define ‘a subject’. I couldn’t think of anyone immediately, but there was a ‘Use previous’ option, and this girl Lisa appears on the screen. You know, really weird; she was standing there, wearing some skimpy leathery outfit and she was rotating so that you could see her from all sides.”

“Did you recognize this Lisa?”

“Sure, Adam’s been dating her, but this girl looked, you know, different. Like a bimbofied version of Lisa. At that time I reckoned Adam had attached some files to the program, like fonts in Word, but now I’m not so sure… I clicked on the Command Center and it warned me that ‘Whatever you enter, the subject will immediately feel or become after pressing the ‘send’ button.’”

“That’s even wackier.”

“Yeah, but Adam was wacky,” Bobbi adds. “I thought he used this MasterPC program to manipulate her.”

“You mean Lisa’s image.”

“I thought so, but I think he manipulated her.”

“What did you smoke, sis?”

“No I’m serious, I’ll tell you. So, first I thought it was all a big joke and I toyed a bit with Lisa’s image. She already had ugly tattoos and silly siliconized boobs, so I just exaggerated those a bit. Just to see what this program could do. You know, what Adam programmed.”

“You think Adam wrote this MasterPC program?”

“Who else? He’s the geek. Anyway, after that, I toyed with the image of others. You remember Andy, my former boss? Or Matthew, the jerk who ditched me? And that pizza delivery guy who always drives so insanely? I literally gave them all very little dicks. Although I saw that Andy hardly had a dick to begin with.”

I laugh: “Serves them right, if it would really work.”

“But it did work! Because finally, I toyed with the image of my neighbor Ada.”

“The nerdy girl?”

“Yeah, she’s the one. I really styled her, you know; a real hairdo instead of those straws she had for a haircut, a nice cleavage, seductive but not immodest, and I told her to go out and have some fun.”

“A specific kind of fun, I reckon.”

“You bet. At two o’clock I woke up because of the bedroom noises. I saw her this evening, with another hunk, and you know what? She had exactly the hairdo I had given her through MasterPC;

I shrug: ”Maybe you saw her earlier? And you forgot? You know, you just programmed her image based on what you had already seen?”

“I walked up and asked which hair stylist had done this magnificent job with her hair, because I wanted to go there myself, and she was so confused. She said she didn’t know, it was as if she suddenly woke up with this hairdo.”

“I’ll get some more wine,” I say and take off for the kitchen.

This Master PC program is obviously nonsense. But my beloved sister Bobbi believes it works, and that she abused its powers. And that makes her feel bad.

I find another bottle waiting for me in the fridge, but I need a corkscrew. So I rummage through the kitchen drawers, unable to find one.

“If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem,” I mutter. Suddenly it downs on me that MasterPC could be part of the solution too. Applied Psychology 101; if I just turn Bobbi’s logic upside down and aim it at herself…

“Bobbi, do you happen to take this MasterPC CD-ROM with you?” I ask.

“I did,” she answers. She shows me a CD-ROM with slightly faded lettering. “And even better, I took my laptop.”

”Great, could you show me what it’s like?”

It takes us several minutes to start up the laptop and click to the right screen. It looks exactly as Bobbi has described.

“Which subject should I enter?” Bobbi asks.

“Yourself,” I suggest.

“Why?”

“If this MasterPC stuff really works, you can also use it to help yourself,” I explain.

Bobbi looks quizzically.

“I’ll show you.” I type Bobbi’s full name and see her appearing on the screen.

I’m impressed; the picture is a fair representation of the real Bobbi: At 39 she’s in reasonable shape, although her blonde hair has gray strokes, and she’s about ten pounds overweight. Somehow the picture also reveals that her breasts are sagging. There’s no need to be ashamed of that—at 42 I have to deal with the same signs of old age.

“See,” I say. “I’ll just enter that you should quit worrying. Either it works, and you won’t worry anymore, or it doesn’t work, and then there’s no reason to worry in the first place.”

“No, don’t do that.”

I realize there’s only one way to convince Bobbi. I change the subject to myself.

“Miri! That’s stupid,” Bobbi exclaims.

I ignore the complaint: “You always complain that I’m so uptight, right?”

“You are! You’re reliable, though.”

“Okay,” I say. “I agree. I always wanted to be a bit bolder. ”

I start typing:

‘You are bold, daring, and like to experiment.’

And I press Send.

“See, nothing bad happened,” I say. “I’m not suddenly signing up for skydiving or bungee jumping because some program made me bolder and wanting to experiment. I’m still Miri.”

Bobbi watches me closely.

“Now, let’s convince you that master PC is nothing to worry about,” I continue.

Bobbi nods reluctantly.

I re-enter her name, and then the command: ‘You will no longer worry about MasterPC and what you have done with it. It is just a weird prank.’

And then I press Send.

I walk back to the kitchen to get the damned corkscrew. It takes me another minute before I find it; hidden in plain sight, in the last place where I look.

I straighten up and by chance I see my own image being reflected in the window. It startles me and I run to the bathroom, where the mirror confirms what I just saw.

“Bobbi, what did you do?” I yell.

“I just toyed a bit with you and Master PC. I gave you sandy blonde hair like me. I know you were always jealous.”

I’m now standing in front of her.

“Don’t fuck with me,” I hiss angrily. “And what the fuck else did you do?”

I’m furious –and concerned, because whatever it is, this MasterPC is not the innocent prank I thought it was.

“Nothing really.” She looks disappointed. “I thought you would like it.”

“I like the hair, but…” I try to search for words. I notice Bobbi typing, and suddenly words just pop into my head: “Okay, it’s just a weird prank.”

Bobbi is clearly relieved. I pour us two new glasses of wine, and sit down next to my sister.

“I admit I’ve always been jealous about your hair. And I guess there are more options.”

“Sure,” Bobbi says. “What about getting rid of those wrinkles?”

We navigate the ‘Physical Attributes’ menu of the Command Center. Bobbi has clearly a lot of experience with MasterPC and she shows me how easy it is to change those parts of my body that I don’t like. In less than five minutes I lose not only my wrinkles, but also ten pounds, a disfiguring scar, and the hair under my armpits –permanently, according to MasterPC.

I blush a bit when I point to the next option: “Pubic hair removal is also a feature, right.”

“Sure, sis.” Bobbi looks at me with some surprise. “I never guessed my big sister has a naughty side.”

“You never wanted to acknowledge that,” I smirk.

“I know.” She blinks knowingly.

She types and presses Send. I barely have the opportunity to see that she wrote: ‘My big sister is a dirty little slut.’

“Okay, so you’re optimized. Now it’s my turn.”

Bobbi applies more or less the same changes also to herself. It’s obviously an improvement, but it’s hardly original. I’d love to see something more daring.

I pull her laptop towards me. Bobbi starts to protest but I’ve got a quick fix for that: ‘Wait and see what Miri has in store for you.’Send.

I search the options and find what I’m looking for: ‘breast size’. I enlarge them to 40J, push ‘apply’, and her tits pop out of her bra and shirt because there not enough room.

“What the fuck did you do!?” Bobbi shouts.

I smirk: “A little prank.”

“A little prank?”

“Want a big ass to go with that?” Bobbi’s booty expands to an enormous size and her jeans tear open. But she still seems angry.

‘You enjoy this slutty prank.’ Send.

Bobbi bursts into laughter. She tries to get up but she’s not used to her impossible body and immediately falls over. This just starts a new burst of uncontrollable laughter.

“Gimme that laptop, you floozy,” Bobbi demands.

I comply. I know what’s coming but I just burst into a new burst of drunken laughter when my tits and ass are impossibly enlarged too.

“What’s next?” I ask.

“Hmm, a tramp stamp?”

“Fine, but only if you take one too.”

“Let’s see…” Bobbi enters both our names as subject; MasterPC accepts that. She browses through the options for tattoos, chooses a tribal design, and pushes ‘apply’. We inspect each other’s back and see that we both posses an identical piece of ink.

The next hour, we experiment with all kinds of body plans, tattoos, hair colors, nails, eyelashes, and other options. Every new change makes us giggle again. We end up being bimbo-twins, with blue hair, blue eyes, blue eyelid makeup, and blue nails; augmented lips, a fake-looking spray tan, and tattoos all over our bodies, including one on every tit saying ‘slut’ and ‘whore’, and thorny roses that wind around our arms and legs.

I stagger to the fridge for the next bottle of wine, but I look at empty shelves.

“I’m sorry sis, but there ain’t anything left,” I apologize.

“Seems the moment to day it a day, right?”

“A night, then. It’s two o’clock. Let’s get back to normal.”

Bobbi flips though the options on screen, and curses: “Fuck, there’s no ‘reset’ button.”

“As if we really want those wrinkles back. “I say. “Let’s just chose something.”

Bobbi tinkers a bit with the settings and we morph into identical, attractive, but otherwise fairly normal bodies, compared to the bimbo-versions of our previous selves.

We’re slouched on the couch.

“That was fucking fun,” I say.

“Yeah, fucking ridiculous,” Bobbi adds.

I shake my head: “It wasn’t ridiculous. It was just good old girly fun. Experimenting with make up; varnishing each other’s nails in ridiculous color; enormous amounts of red lipstick.”

“Okay, you’re right. “ Bobbi smiles. “I guess I can think of things which are even more ridiculous.”

“Like what?” I tease.

“Hmm, drinking three bottles of wine.”

“Check. Four, actually.”

“Stripping.”

“Check.”

“Kissing .”

“Kissing ain’t ridiculous,” I say.

“Kissing you would be.”

I stare at Bobbi.

“I’d like to kiss you,” I blurt out.

“It was a joke,” she hastily says. “Just , you know...”

“It might be a joke, and it’s a ridiculous thing to do, but why not?”

The alcohol already reddened Bobbi’s face, but the idea of kissing her sister makes her blush.

“It’s ridiculous, Miri.”

“Relax, sis,” I say. “I’m supposed to be the one who’s uptight. But I feel like experimenting.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Just tell yourself.” I point to the laptop.

Bobbi ponders this for a moment.

“You know, I can force myself to kiss you,” she says. “I don’t need Master PC for that. But I don’t like kissing... you.”

“You don’t know that. You’ve never tried it.”

“Touché. I guess you’re right, ” she admits.

Bobbi lingers, her fingers hover above the keyboard.

I pull the laptop towards me:

“I’ll help you.”

I start typing ‘kiss your sister.’ Then I decide to boldly go where I haven’t gone before. I delete and re-type. ‘You love your sister. You think your sister is hot and beautiful. You love to fuck your sister. Fucking your sister will make you come.’ Send.

I wake up. It takes some time to fully realize where I am: Bobbi and I are wrapped in white sheets and in each other. My memory of what happened last night is hazy, an obscure mess of alcohol and sex. Oh, yes, the sex. We fucked like minxes. How many times did I come? Or was it just one long drawn-out orgasm?

I slowly disentangle myself and get out of bed. I stumble to the kitchen for some much-needed coffee.

On my way back to the bedroom I pass the dressing mirror and stop briefly to take a good look at myself. I never realized how good-looking I still am for my age. My firm tits and proud booty accentuate my waist. My sandy blonde curls fall before my eyes; they’re messy, but that mess just makes it sexier.

Bobbi’s lying on her belly, still snoring softly; I kiss her gently, stroke her bare back, careful not to wake her up. Quietly an undisturbed, I enjoy the look and feel of her delectable body. She’s exactly like me, long and slender, flawless smooth skin, as if we haven’t aged since we turned 21.

Bobbi opens her eyes, and closes them again.

“Go on sis,” she sighs slowly. “I have a hangover. I feel shitty. But your touch… Wonderful.”

She turns on her back, exposing her tits to me. I stroke her belly, my hand moving closer to her cunt with every stroke.

“You want some coffee too?” I whisper in her ear.

“No.” A pause. “I want you. If this fucking hangover would go away, I’d fuck you again.”

“Tylenol, then?”

“Two. And promise me we will never get so fucking wasted again.”

“It was a bizarre night,” I smirk.

“Because of that MasterPC program.”

“Yeah, weird prank, that program.”

“Adam made it, and he was nuts,” Bobbi says. “Ouch, fucking head ache.”

“I’ll get you those Tylenols.”

Bobbi passes out again after swallowing two white pills, and I take a seat on the couch. We forgot to shutdown the laptop; when I tap on the touchpad, MasterPC immediately comes to life again.

I’m wasted, and bored, but MasterPC provides some distraction. I tinker a bit with the appearance of my body, the form of my nose, the size and color of my areolae. I draw a butterfly tattoo on my pelvis, just for fun.

It’s way past noon and Bobbi’s still in bed. I check on her; she’s gone though the same changes as me; the butterfly tattoo looks beautiful on her, seductively drawing attention to her pussy. But the Tylenols haven’t done anything against her hang-over. Playing with MasterPC’s options absorbed me completely, but now I’m feeling woolly and wasted too.

If only MasterPC could really resolve that… Frustrated, I type: ‘No more hangovers.’Send.

MasterPC is a weird program. Of course it’s a prank, but it’s an addictive prank. It’s ensnaring to play, and to imagine ‘what if’.

I decide to see what happens if I shrink the waist a bit, and accentuate our small waists with sizable tits and ass; it gives us a perfect hourglass figure. Hmm, how would a different skin tone look?

I jolt. Bobbi just sneaked up from behind, and tickles my flanks by surprise.

“Gotcha, sis.”

Her hands move from my side to my front, cupping my tits. She kisses my shoulder, her mouth moves slowly along my neck, giving more kisses, until she reaches my ear. I shudder.

“How’s this?” Bobbi whispers in my ear.

“Hangover’s gone?” I manage to ask.

“Hangovers gone,” she confirms. “But the itching’s back.”

She starts to nibble my earlobe.

“I want you, sis. I want you bad. My cunt’s on fire.”

“Let me finish this,” I say. I just turned us into mysterious vamps with wavy black hair and olive skin, and I’m working on the finishing touch.

“What’s hotter,” she sulks. “Me? Or some stupid computer game?”

She sits down on the couch, pushes me away from the keyboard and types a command:

‘You will forget completely about MasterPC. You will only pay attention to fucking your hot sister.’ Send.

I feel a sudden blankness. I stare at the computer screen; something’s gone, but I can’t put my finger on what’s missing. As if that part is gone too. An unknown unknown.

Bobbi brushes that blankness away; she pushes me over, and she’s on top of me. We kiss. It’s a long and deep kiss; my tongue explores every corner of her mouth before it trails down to her tits. Bobbi’s tongue trails down even further and visits every corner of my cunt. My tongue finds her clit, but before I can tease and please it, the first orgasm washes over me.

Later, much later, we clean up the mess in my living room. I stealthily ogle my sister’s hot body. She’s bending over to collect the dirty trays and empty bottles, giving me a full view of her ass.

The outline of her smooth labia is teasingly visible when she slightly parts her thighs. Everything’s on display; we’re both nude.

Something odd is going on, though. We rummaged through my closet for some clothes, but nothing fits us. It’s weird, but we’ll have to order some new stuff online. I also vaguely remember being jealous of my sister’s blonde curls, but Bobbi has wavy black hair which is long enough to cover her firm tits. I sigh, at least there’s no need to be jealous. We’re identical twins; same hair, same face, same eyes, same delectable round ass, even the same ink pieces. I can’t really remember when I got these thin ankle bracelet tattoos, but Bobbi possesses them too. We look like a pair of harem girls, bound to please.

My train of thoughts is interrupted when Bobbi gets up, holding something unfamiliar in her hand.

“What’s on that CD-ROM?” I ask. I take a closer look and say: “It’s labeled family pictures.”

“It’s just another piece of mislabeled junk from Adam,” Bobbi answers. “I can’t even remember why I brought it here.”

“I don’t mind,” I smile. “You can bring anything as long as you don’t forget to take along those luscious lips of yours.”

Bobbi barely has the opportunity to throw the CD-ROM in the rubbish bin before those luscious lips touch mine. We completely forget about cleaning, and get dirty again.