The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Chapter One

It was past eleven and dark along the two-lane road covered so thickly with fresh snow it looked like one long white stripe. The high-beams on Max’s dependable old pickup gave her enough brightness through the cascading flakes to keep the truck exactly between the endless rows of frosted fir trees on each side.

She loved her house, the one she had made perfect with her imperfect ex-husband. She got the house, he got most everything else. But it was out in the rural reaches of town, which was great for summer seclusion but sucked in the middle of a blizzard. Right now, it sucked big time.

The road got bendy and the windshield was fogging up again, and even though she had driven this way home a thousand times, Max found herself hunched forward, panting out jets of winter smoke as she frantically wiped the fog off the glass.

KA-CHUNK! … sputtersputtersputter.

The brakes locked as she death-gripped the wheel, the truck shuddering and creaking as it skated sideways on the icy road.

It all happened so fast … the tires—one of them had exploded—skidding and swerving before coming to a stop under a crunch of snow. Then quiet.

Max realized she’d been holding her breath and let out a long exhale, which bled white across the windshield. The truck was perpendicular in the road. If another car came along …

It may have been a long, boring night, but her adrenaline was kicked. Max started up her stalled pickup and eased it backward and out of the oncoming lane. She then rolled it gentle forward, feeling the groan of metal from the bare front right rim as she edged off the edgeless right lane.

“Fuuuuuck.”

Max sat in the truck with a hundred thoughts slamming into each other. Why, oh why, had she gone out tonight? Why had she let her best bud Sandy fix her up on a night like this? The blind date was a disaster—never let a straight friend pair you up with a lesbian. The woman shifted from aggressive butch to lipstick lesbian and back again over the course of their two-drink date. Max still didn’t know what kind of woman Angela wanted to be, but she wasn’t what Max was looking for in either case.

She yanked on the door handle and pulled her coat collar up around her neck. She prayed the rim wasn’t bent. It was only about two miles from home, but a long walk in a snowstorm didn’t sound appealing. It was snowing harder and her thin gloves were already allowing in the cold.

She hauled down the spare from the truck bed and rolled it through the six inches of snow which had been falling maybe an hour.

As she feared, the tire was in tatters, but the rim looked okay. The yellow-whiteness from the snow and headlights illuminating it enough to tell, even though there were no other lights anywhere around. Just the long, barren woods and hibernating fields beyond.

Max changed the tire quickly, under the circumstances—this wasn’t her first time. Doing it automatically, ignoring the strain on her arms, she thought why tonight of all nights did she deserve to get a blowout. Why tonight did she feel the need for female companionship?

The divorced had only been final for a few months and, in her eagerness to jump into singlehood with both feet, she’d had a couple of fun flings with a couple of fun women she connected with through the online dating service she overpaid to get access to.

Of course, she told Sandy, who decided what friends were for was to match up their galpals with dates. Angela was probably the only lesbian Sandy knew.

As she pumped the jack and the truck lowered, Max heard soft footfalls, expecting a coyote or some other critter to be trekking across the snow.

The crowbar hit the foot-packed ground with a thud.

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me,” Max said, catching her breath. “Are you okay?”

Standing above her was a pretty, dark-haired girl. Her head moved side to side, as if scanning her surroundings for something to latch onto, but her eyes—even in the white darkness—looked completely devoid of awareness. More than that, the girl, who looked about 19 or 20, was wearing only loose-fitting bikinis and a half-tee. And was barefoot.

“Jesus.” Max stood up and instinctively put her hands on the girl’s arms. “What are you doing here? You must be freezing. What happened? Are you hurt?”

The girl looked right through her.

Max opened the door to the cab and pulled out the emergency blanket from behind the seat. She left the door open.

“Come on, sit here. God, you must be frozen.”

She wrapped the blanket around the girl’s shoulders and steered her into the passenger’s seat. It struck Max, in that moment, that the girl wasn’t even shivering even though chilled nipples poked through her sheer top.

“Okay? What happened? Can you tell me what happened? Is your car around?”

The girl just stared off somewhere, almost with a sense of wonder, as if the heavy snowfall was something unusual. Max figured she was shocky, maybe had a bump on the head, maybe hypothermia. Who would be driving around in that getup?

“Hey!” Max shook her, losing patience. She regretted it immediately, but then the girl’s head slowly turned and looked in her eyes.

“My …”

“Yes?”

“My battery … is running low.”

Max pulled out her phone and debated who to call. She could get the police or an ambulance. She could drive her to the ER. She knew she didn’t have a lot of traction or mileage left on that thread-bare spare and it was snowing like hell. She didn’t want to wait around for help either.

“I guess you’re not gonna tell me where you live, huh?” she said as she buckled them both in and started the engine. “Well … I’ll bring you home and get us out of this cold. Then go from there. Deal?”

The girl’s head lolled to one side.

“Home,” was all she said.

The snowstorm was in full force as Max pulled into the unplowed driveway. Her neighbors lived up the hill, about a quarter of a mile away, but she noticed through the snowfall that their exterior lights were off, which was unusual. She hit the button for the garage to open but … nothing. The front-door light was off too. The power was out.

Max groaned as she hustled to the door, tugged the latch and lifted the garage door the old-fashioned way. She unlocked the door into the house before realizing that her peculiar passenger hadn’t moved an inch.

“Let’s get inside. I’ll make a fire.”

She parked the truck in the garage, led the girl into the house and plopped her on the sofa in front of the fireplace. Power outages weren’t uncommon out in the sticks, so Max quickly lit a few candles and tossed a log onto the half-burned pile. Then lit it up again.

She fetched a pair of woolen socks and put them on the compliant girl, only then realizing she still had her gloves and coat on.

“Do you have a name?” she asked, switching feet. She looked at her face, forcing a turn. “What. Is. Your. Name?”

A faint smile lit her face.

“My name is DiDi.”

“Yay! Now we’re getting somewhere! My name is McKenzie, but my friends call me Max. You can call me Max.”

“Yes, Max.”

Max thought of making coffee, but instant cocoa took less time with only gas to heat with and seemed strangely appropriate anyway.

“Here.” She nudged a shoulder and the girl took the cup. “That’ll warm you up.”

The fire was catching, and gave the room a soft, golden glow.

They sat together quietly, DiDi sipping when Max sipped. Max realized she had been to talking to this girl—young woman, really—like she was a six-year-old. Even putting on warm socks for her and making her hot chocolate. She may have had a subconscious bent toward the maternal, but as she casually looked the girl over Max realized DiDi was a very attractive woman. Just her type too. Unblemished skin, symmetrical features, hair with just enough curl to give it some life without the split-ends … and a thin, well-toned body, accentuated by B cups, narrow hips and a squeezable butt.

Max pressed gently on the blanket …

“How are you doing, honey? Feeling better?”

DiDi tilted her head, as if the weight of one thought cast it sideways.

“My battery is running low, Max. I need recharging.”

“Recharging?”

“Yes. I have not been recharged for 11 hours and 36 minutes. I need to be recharged every 12 hours. I am a robot, Max.”

Max stifled a laugh. The wood popped and crackled in the fireplace and it drew DiDi’s attention for the first time. Max was about to crack wise: “A robot, you don’t say …” But held still, seeing DiDi’s eyes now riveted to the fire burning brightly with long, snaking wisps of yellow and orange.

DiDi was transfixed. Max noticed the mug slipping out of her hand and caught it just in time. DiDi’s jaw slackened.

“Uh … you okay?”

Max nudged her again, gently, but DiDi’s shoulders had drooped, her hands open, her eyes wide.

“What the …”

Max stared at DiDi staring. What little of her that had been there was now gone.

She waved her hand in front of the girl’s face and she didn’t even blink. She was hidden inside her own mind.

Bolting upright, Max walked behind the sofa and paced. “What the fuck! What the actual fuck!”

She looked down at DiDi as she paced, running her hands through her still-wet brown hair, sighing with exasperation and confusion. Is she …? Is that possible? What the actual fuck.

She looked down at the girl, robot-girl, following the curves between the opening in the blanket. She was undeniably perfect. Too perfect? Max sat heavily on the sofa next to the entranced girl, taking her head in her hands, watching the lifeless eyes follow the movement slowly.

“You’re a robot?”

“Yes, Max.”

“What … what kind of robot?”

The robot-girl came to life. “I am robot DiDi, serial number 3042A Dash 686. I can be of service to you and all of mankind. Take this little baby for a spin and you’ll see why Robax International is at the bleeding edge of automatronic technology!”

“Oh.”

“I am not a human female, Max. I am a robot. I simulate everything that is a human female. Anatomically, behaviorally, emotionally and intellectually. I am programmed to function as a human female in the service to all humans.”

“Oh.”

Max studied her face. She had livened up, although it wasn’t really for the better. She didn’t look like a robot. She didn’t smell like a robot. Her skin was soft. The tiny hairs on her arm. The way she breathed. This was a girl. Not a machine. It was impossible.

“DiDi. You’re a girl, trust me on that one. A human girl. A real girl. Not a robot.”

DiDi lifted her left arm and in the hollow of her armpit was a small, rectangular plate about the size of a computer memory chip.

“What’s that?”

“It is an access point, Max, to monitor my bodily functions.”

DiDi leaned down and lifted her right leg. Another small plate was near her ankle, with two tiny lights flashing dimly red and green.

“What … uh … what does that do?”

“It is a sensor to monitor my environment.”

Max couldn’t help let a nervous giggle escape. “I don’t think that’s working to good. You should have been freezing your ass off outside.”

“I am regulated, Max. My internal organs are composed of 14 different metal alloys, high-density wiring, varying in size from point-zero-zero—”

“Okay! Stop right there!”

Max shook her head. Not sure whether to kick this wacko out into the snow or jump her body.

“Open your mouth.” DiDi complied. Everything looked normal. No cavities, teeth straight and white. And a tongue …

The urge was there, and she didn’t fight it. Max kissed DiDi hard, both of them breathing into it.

“You’re a girl, babe,” Max whispered.

“My creators,” DiDi replied, the nearness of her eyes softening them, “would be very pleased to hear that you are under the misconception that I am authentic.”

“We’re gonna need to work on the bedroom talk, honey.”

DiDi’s head swiveled back to the fireplace as if called to it.

“Is that … like, hypnotizing you, DiDi?”

“It is …” She blinked twice. “It is familiar.”

Max couldn’t resist stroking the robot-girl down her cheek. It had to be human skin. She thought about how incompatible she was with Angela only hours before. How strange it was that this girl—this robot-girl—with her gentle manner, the innocence of a little girl, her flawless features was stirring conflicting feelings in Max.

She would never, ever, take advantage of someone so obviously vulnerable, so out of it. Another thought struck her cold—who would do this to her?

“Max?” DiDi said in her feminine monotone, still staring blankly at the fire. “I must be recharged now.”

“I … don’t know how to do that, DiDi. How is that done? Is there something I can do here?”

She surprised herself with how easy it was to just accept the situation for what it was. For what DiDi believed it to be, anyway.

Didi leaned back slowly, peeling off the light-pink panties and spread herself open. She fingered her labia wide apart.

“Here.”

Oh my God.

“There?”

“Yes. Here. I must be recharged.”

“Uh … I don’t have the … a charger. What does it look like? What does it do?”

“It recharges me. Here.”

“Okay, okay. I get that. Put your legs down, please.”

DiDi obeyed the command.

Max fought the impulse to just bend down and take a look for herself. For what? A plug? Prongs? A socket? DiDi was too perfect a girl, too … emotionless. Maybe she really was a robot.

“What … oh, shit … what does the recharger do?”

The robot-girl said it bluntly, without humor: “It gives me what a human female would call an orgasm.”

Rut-roh.

“You need to have an orgasm? You need to get off?”

“Yes, Max.”

“Jesus,” Max said under her breath. “The people who did this to you are pretty fucked up, aren’t they?”

DiDi’s head tilted. “They … made me like you, Max.”

Max just sat there dumbly. Girl or not, robot or not, she didn’t want to be stuck with a robot-girl out of power. Dead weight. What would happen to her if her “battery” died. Would she die? She caught herself staring again between the robot-girl’s legs and the puffed, perfect, bare slit.

She whispered: “I think I have just what you need.”

Hurrying into the bedroom, Max slammed drawers and checked under piles of clothes before remembering she had washed it off and left it in the bathroom. Time was short, she knew, and rushed back into the den with her trusty six-inch silver vibrator all ready to go. She knelt in front of the robot-girl.

“I think … this might help. Do you … want me to do it or …?”

DiDi’s eyes closed slowly, then opened. “I know how to perform this function, Max.” Then, almost as an unconscious afterthought, “Thank you.”

DiDi took the vibrator in her hand—Max had to grab it momentarily to twist the knob and set it buzzing. Then she sat back.

“Have at it. It works pretty well on me.”

She couldn’t avoid an embarrassed smile, even though DiDi’s eyes hadn’t moved off the fireplace. The robot-girl lifted her feet, placing them on the couch and spread herself before Max’s wanting eyes. She inserted the vibrator.

The reality of the moment caught up with Max, and she rolled away. This wasn’t just the most bizarre night of her life. This was so wrong, on so many different levels, and at the same time so incredibly hot.

She crawled back to DiDi, who had begun pumping the toy in and out. Max roughly pinched DiDi’s forearm, expecting a jump, but the robot-girl kept on with her task—recharging.

In a normal world, Max told herself that she should be getting off watching a sexy woman get herself off. But it was all off. It was almost clinical the way DiDi was moving. Is she enjoying it? Just a little?

A sigh escaped the robot-girl’s lips and Max sighed with her.

“Do it, honey,” she cooed. “Make yourself feel better.”

DiDi sped up, and Max was pleased to see the robot-girl’s toes curl. Her own hand found its way into her jeans and she rubbed herself gently as she watched.

Max was getting wet, and she could hear the insistent slurpy sound above the buzz as the robot-girl’s body reacted.

The robot-girl’s ass lifted off the couch and her eyes closed. Max pressed harder on her clit and rubbed circles around it, faster and faster and faster, until they both—woman and robot—came together.

To be continued …