The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Starship of Lust Ch. 08

“Mr. Principal… I-I don’t understand.” An almost comically timid voice eked out of the woman in front of me. Her fingers tensed around the textbook in her hands, drawing it closer and slightly crumpling her skirt in the process.

I folded my hands across my desk. “I’m sorry, Miss Catherine, but I’m afraid it’s cut-and-dry. Your family can no longer pay tuition. Effective tomorrow, you will no longer be a student of this academy.”

Her lip quivered. Some glare from the room’s ceiling lights reflected off her glasses, just enough to obscure her eyes, but I imagine she was on the verge of tears. “Sir, I… this is everything to me…” And again, she gave a mewling, childish plea.

“Everything, huh?” I leaned forward, not taking my eyes off of Catherine. She wore a standard girls’ school uniform, with blouse and long skirt, while slumping her shoulders as if trying to retreat into herself. Between the poor posture and genuinely conservative attire, she was the kind of girl that few would realize had impressive curves. Her shy demeanor actively worked against it.

“If I told you there was a way to keep attending this school, what would you say?” I asked, faintly smirking.

“I—that—I’d say that sounds too good to be true,” she murmured uncertainly, before gaining some power in her voice. “But I’d do anything to stay here, sir! Please!” Then she sharply bowed her head for good measure, her short hair swaying with the suddenness of the movement. From this position, the swell of her huge tits was unmistakable, mostly constrained by her top but hanging ever so slightly towards the floor.

“Raise your head.” I told her. She did. “Come here, Catherine.” She meekly, naively, walked to my side.

“I can pull some strings to make the tuition issue go away,” I muttered softly. “You’re such a good student, after all. It would be terrible to lose you.”

Her mouth opened in shock before settling on a surprised smile. Her eyes shone with innocent glee. “Really, sir? You’d do that for me?”

I nodded. “I would. But…” I paused a moment for emphasis. “It’d mean sticking my neck out. People might accuse me of favoritism. For the trouble, it’s only right that you do something for me in return. Is that okay?”

“O-of course, sir. That makes… sense.” Her words regained their previous insecurity, now amplified by mild confusion. However, she was too weak-willed to raise any questions, haltingly stammering through an acknowledgement instead.

“Come sit on my lap as we talk.” Her face immediately darkened considerably, perhaps finally realizing the implications of my words and retreating even further into herself. Nonetheless, she did as she was told, stiffly sitting sideways across my legs. She winced as I placed a hand on her thigh. Ignoring her discomfort, I continued. “You’re very beautiful, Catherine. Did you know that?”

“N-n-n-no…” Her voice was pitiful, barely a whisper.

“But you are! Extremely beautiful. And that’s good, because beautiful girls can repay their debts in ways no one else can.” My hand moved from her thigh to her waist; she stared at the wall with a mortified expression.

“Sir, I think—I think I should go…” Clearly taking all her remaining courage, she tried to move away, but my hand held her firm.

“Now Catherine, be reasonable. Don’t you want to stay enrolled at this academy?”

“… Yes.” I could hear the conflict and resignation in that one simple word. Marvelous.

“Then stay.” My tone grew harsher. She knew further objections would not be tolerated. In turn, she obeyed, repositioning herself back on my lap. By now, a bump was pressing through my pants into her leg. “Good girl. Do you know what sex is, Catherine?”

Tears began to form at the corners of her eyes, which she quickly wiped away. “Yes, sir.”

“Have you ever had sex before?” “N-no, sir.”

My hand moved to her chest, feeling up one of those succulent mounds of flesh through her uniform. She shuddered but said nothing. “So, how were you thinking you’d repay me for my assistance today?”

She scrunched up her face. Catherine was shy, but not stupid. “I…” There was a long pause, but eventually… “I’d like to have sex with you, Mr. Principal.” She fell into line. Truly a model student.

“Well! If a virgin like yourself proposes it, how could I refuse?” Getting a little tired of the dialogue-heavy foreplay, I nudged Catherine onto my desk, standing up at the same time. “Lay down.” She did so, gazing up at the ceiling as I leaned over her.

Putting a hand near her neck, I yanked her blouse wide open, sending several buttons popping and clattering across the floor. Her upper body was exposed now, her tits protected only by a plain beige bra.

“Sir…” Catherine vaguely protested, but made no move to flee. She was a weak-willed pushover.

Saying nothing, I pushed up her bra with one hand and ripped through her skirt with the other. Her boobs were made complete by the appearance of perfect pink nipples, as her white panties were laid tantalizingly bare.

“Sir, I-I-I…” She sounded terrified, unable to even finish the thought. “Sh-sh-shhh…” I shushed her with a calming tone, reaching down to unzip my pants. “It’s quite alright, Miss Catherine. I am an educator. Allow me to teach you.”

My cock now out, I took another half-step forward, bunching her panties to the side and revealing the goods within. Without hesitation, I slid inside her, somewhat forcefully. Unsurprisingly, she wasn’t very wet.

“Ah—Mr. Principal! I-I feel like I’m being torn in half…” Her face and voice screwed up as she felt the full size of a man for the first time—at least, per her character.

“It will pass, Catherine, and the pleasure will take its place.” I began to move in and out, her tits satisfyingly jiggling in time with my movements. Not able to hold back, I grabbed one with each hand, happily rolling her nipples between my fingers.

“Sir!” Perhaps I was going too far, but she was mine in this moment. Before she could say another word, my lips found hers, my tongue wriggling into her mouth.

“Mmph!” A muffled moan, of fear, or anger, or pleasure, or perhaps all three, met my ears. However, I held all the cards here and she knew it. She made no serious attempts to resist me.

While my cock pistoned in and out of my “student’s” pussy, I acknowledged the camera on the far wall in my peripheral vision, shifting our position slightly for the lens to get a better view.

Obviously, I was not a lecherous principal, nor was Catherine Locke a demure academy student. We were merely conducting my regularly scheduled “sexual processing”—filmed for the masses with, as always, Catherine portraying a character of my choice. In the woman before me now, there was no trace of a strong-willed naval admiral, only a fearful young maiden.

My “updates” left no room for ambiguity. She was thoroughly convinced of the value of these videos and the importance of upholding their integrity to a viewer. She approached her acting so seriously that one would think she was starring in the next work of an award-winning director, rather than an amateur porno. No matter what character she was assigned to play, no matter how far it was from her actual personality, she assumed the role as if born to it. And until the camera stopped filming, she would never break character. She’s played an airheaded cheerleader, slutty secretary, clumsy nurse, no-nonsense police woman… every time, she was flawless. She didn’t just “act” like the character, she embodied them.

Of course, this was all as intended. Having Catherine willingly and fully commit to these characters was the opening salvo on reconstructing her sense of self. With further tweaks and more aggressive “updates”, her entire being would soon be putty in my hands.

“Mr. Principal! I-I feel weird!” Her face had started to melt, the “virgin” drowning in the heretofore unknown pleasures of the flesh. A half-moan, half-wail escaped her lips. I kept going until we both came.

* * *


I was so hot. Laying naked upon my bed, my fingers dug into my vagina as my thumb liberally stimulated my clitoris.

“Oh… Oh…” I moaned repeatedly, endlessly. My loins ached with sexual desire. My free hand reached up to one of my heaving breasts, prodding and pulling at the nipple. It felt so good.

I was alone, masturbating in my quarters during a period of free time. This was highly uncharacteristic of me, but my libido has been overwhelming as of late. Achieving orgasm was the only reliable way to appease the urges.

“Ooh…” My own hands were acceptable to do the job, but they paled in comparison to a man’s penis. I began to reminisce about the many, many times I’d had sex with a man, growing wetter and wetter in the process.

I had no doubt that, if I wished, I could exit my quarters and encounter a male crewmate from whom to perform semen extraction within minutes. However, I found the thought somewhat… disingenuous. Semen extraction was a means for men to provide women with a protein supplement. It was inappropriate for a woman to pursue semen extraction for purposes of the intercourse itself.

Although, if the man was to initiate the extraction himself, that would be a different story. Cooper’s face flashed through my mind and my movements accelerated. Despite the false suspicion I had once put him under, the Chief Engineer had proven to be an extremely kind man. As if aware of my turmoil, he regularly offered to donate his semen to me. Extracting semen from Cooper was often more involved than it was with other men, such as the occasion when he left me bound and blindfolded in his personal restroom for an hour. I didn’t mind. It was a matter of course for the woman to acquiesce to the man’s requests during semen extraction—and in any case, it felt so good to extract from Cooper that I saw no reason to refuse him.

My terminal abruptly pinged, interrupting my self-pleasure. I sighed, but no matter how close I was to an orgasm, duty takes precedence. Perhaps it was a summons from Cooper and the point would be moot…

No such luck. It was a summons, but from Admiral Locke. With a substantial degree of mental effort, I assumed a professional state of mind and donned my usual jumpsuit.

* * *


“Hello, Major.”

“Good evening, Admiral.”

I motioned to the chair across from me as Samantha entered my chambers. Once she was seated, I broached the topic at hand. “Have you made any breakthroughs on the identity of our intruder?” As I spoke, my hands reflexively raised from the desk to my chest. Samantha’s did the same.

“I’m afraid not, ma’am. Thoroughly re-scanning the data access logs yielded no further information, and a targeted search of shipboard camera feeds has likewise produced nothing of note.” While she answered, Samantha massaged her objectively large breasts. Through the thin material of her jumpsuit, her powerful fingers forcefully kneaded the soft flesh, sometimes flattening them towards herself, sometimes pushing them together and contorting their shape as they squashed into each other. Her movements were regular and rhythmic, never staying stationary for long.

“And residual heatmaps of critical sectors?” I also worked my chest, having begun as Samantha was speaking. The sensation was rather calming. Stimulating the skin around the heart increased blood flow and improved mental acuity. Obviously, it would not be appropriate behavior in the company of others, but Samantha was an exception. She was my sister, and we were both aware of the reasons for and benefits of mid-conversation breast massages. It was purely functional. In a high-stakes investigation like this, we needed every edge we could get.

Samantha shook her head. “Nothing suspicious whatsoever.” I leaned back, exasperated but not surprised. Our saboteur was proving remarkably tricky to pin down. Whoever they were, they must be very clever.

We sat in silence for a few moments, lost in thought, our hands still gripping then relaxing our breasts every couple seconds, almost automatically.

“Allow me, Catherine,” Samantha said, abruptly rising to her feet and indicating my chest with her eyes. “You need to focus your mental energies on planning our next steps.”

The suggestion caught me slightly by surprise, but she wasn’t wrong. It was better for the both of us if I simply had some time to think. “Thank you, Samantha.”

Major Adams circled behind me. As soon as I dropped my hands, hers reached around to replace them, firmly grasping my breasts over my uniform. Since my jacket exposed a large area of cleavage, approximately half of her fingers directly touched my bare skin. Undeterred, my younger sister went to work.

“Hm…” I had to stifle a sigh of contentment. It was a deeper experience, in some ways, to be massaged by another. An impartial third-party (especially the stoic Scarlet Hunter) could push your body past what you might have thought would be comfortable. Her toned knuckles pressed and stroked with almost painful force, but the results were undeniable. I felt the tension unknot, a warmth spreading throughout my body, centered on my chest.

Invigorated, I began to think aloud. “Let’s review what we know.” Samantha grunted ambiguously, knowing I was speaking more to sort out my own thoughts than looking for genuine conversation.

“For months, someone has been uploading unauthorized data from somewhere on the Athens. However, there have been no signs of the enemy acting upon leaked intel, nor any disruption to the crew’s day-to-day activities. Even to your and my careful eyes, everything aboard the Athens is normal.”

“Yes, ma’am. Nothing has been amiss,” Samantha confirmed as her hands moved to the undersides of my breasts, lifting and holding them a beat before letting them drop.

I moved on. “The culprit must have extreme technical proficiency, to bypass our security systems and suppress any alerts going out to the Chief Engineer.” Unless the culprit is the Chief Engineer, but I made that observation privately. For now, Samantha has cleared Anthony Cooper of wrongdoing and I trusted her judgment without question. Even so, he will be reexamined if pertinent new information ever comes to light.

“Furthermore, we have confirmed that the unauthorized uploads continue to this day.” Now that we knew what to look for, Samantha and I have confirmed additional unauthorized access over time, nearly daily. Is there a chance that it may not be a bad actor? That would fit with certain aspects of this case, mainly the lack of tangible effects, but the mere fact that highly secure systems were breached is extremely suspicious. Something more innocuous, like sending private family communications or accessing banned internet content, wouldn’t be worth the effort—nor would it happen so frequently.

“This must be malicious activity. But what? Why?” As I deliberated, Samantha still rubbed my chest. While I had yet to make any breakthroughs, it did help clear my mind.

We needed more information. It was becoming abundantly clear that we would not catch this culprit redhanded. They were either too smart or too careful (or both).

“Can we trace the destination of the request?” It risked tipping our hand, so I had dismissed the possibility until now, but no better option had presented itself. Network access in deep space was accomplished via a series of satellite buoys in orbit around certain star systems, which bounced any requests between them. If the Athens disseminated its own dummy buoys, we could theoretically intercept outgoing comms. As long as we made sure to pass the traffic to the proper buoys afterward, the only sign to the culprit that their requests were being monitored would be a few seconds of latency. That might be enough to tip them off—or it might not. Was it worth the risk?

I thought through a few other possibilities, but all presented even greater margins of error. The buoys were our best shot.

“Samantha.” Her hands immediately stopped moving. “Yes, ma’am?” came her voice from behind.

“Take the lead on distributing dummy network buoys across our course. Set them up to forward traffic, not block.”

Her hands retracted entirely and my sister reappeared in front of me, saluting. “Understood. I think this is a good play, Admiral.”

“Thank you for your continuous support, Major.” I rotated one shoulder. My chest stung a little, but it was a good pain. “And thank you for the past few minutes as well. You may return to your business.”

Samantha nodded and exited. Now that we were taking this step, I only wish we’d done so sooner. Worst case, it could take two to three weeks before we had enough dummy buoys in place to guarantee an interception. I could only pray our rat wouldn’t get up to too much trouble by then.

* * *


Nearly as soon as I had left Catherine’s quarters, I received another message. Once I read the contents, I smiled. Admittedly, a part of me had been hoping for this all evening.

I changed course to the engineering sector of the ship. Tracing a route I had memorized by now, I stopped before one door and entered without knocking. A man laid upon the bed inside, naked and fully erect.

“Pleasure to see you, Samantha.”

“And you as well, Anthony.”

We both knew why I was here. With a speed that surprised even myself, I was on top of Cooper, my already-wet vagina easily welcoming his thick, hot penis.

I hadn’t been able to masturbate to completion earlier. Much as I tried to ignore them, sexual thoughts had been on my mind to an extent the entire length of my briefing with Catherine. Now, all that suppressed arousal bubbled over. I came as soon as Cooper’s dick was inside me. However, I held back any moans, only relishing the climax for a moment before beginning to move my hips.

Extracting semen from Anthony Cooper had become an unquestionable highlight of my day. It wasn’t even about the semen extraction itself anymore. The simple sensation of him orgasming, filling my insides with his semen, was exquisite, a higher pleasure than I had ever known. I wanted to please Cooper. I wanted him to be happy.

I looked down at the man, his eyes fixated on my body. His gaze was intoxicating. It felt good for Cooper to desire me, to want me and to use me. As our intercourse progressed, I pondered: I have never in my life felt “love”. Is that what this emotion is?

* * *


“Here we are. No teeth now.”

With those words, the man shoved his cock into my open mouth. He mostly moved on his own, pinning my head against the wall and thrusting down my throat. I only had to sit there and be receptive to his needs.

How many men was this now? Eight? Nine? I’d lost count. I suppose it didn’t matter. A dick was a dick. It was a way for me to get more semen.

With this man’s semen extraction not requiring much active thought, my vision wandered to the woman next to me. A men’s urinal separated us. Past the woman was another urinal, then another woman. They were both young and relatively attractive (and the same could be said for myself). We were all naval ensigns, although I didn’t know the other two particularly well. We’d been asked separately to come here for semen extraction. With no reason to refuse, we’d each accepted and were brought to the men’s restroom.

Typically, female crewmates are obviously not allowed to enter the male facilities, but certain exceptions are allowable during semen extraction. As soon as we were brought here, all three of us were lined up between the urinals and promptly put to work sucking dick. A line quickly formed before each of us—mostly comprised of men who just happened to be using the restroom and decided off-the-cuff to donate semen. We’d been here amongst the toilets for over half an hour now and the lines only seemed to be growing.

A delicious, sticky liquid coated my tongue. The man had cum in my mouth, and I eagerly swallowed. As soon as he was done, he zipped up his pants and walked to the sink without another word to me. This was common during semen extraction, to be treated more like a tool than a fellow comrade. However, as long as there was no actual abuse, I had little reason to complain. It was the duty of the woman to make semen extraction as painless as possible for the man.

The next man in line stepped forward, dick in his hand, but—I held up a hand to stop him.


I recognized this balding, middle-aged officer. He was my stepfather. He’d known me as long as I could remember and married my mom when I was 10. Right now, he had an expression like I’d never seen before. The only thing in his eyes was lust.

“It’s alright, Margot…” he murmured, putting his hand on my cheek. “Is it so bad that I wanted to donate to my little girl?” His voice trembled excitedly.

“I…” I can’t say I was fully comfortable with this. I’d never exactly thought of him as my father, but he was my mother’s husband. I didn’t want to think about where that dick had been. But… we weren’t related by blood. There was nothing illegal about extracting semen from him. I had no grounds to refuse. “No, it’s fine, Clarence. Go ahead.”

With a relieved smile, he stroked my hair and guided his tip into my mouth. His precum tasted just as good as any other man’s.

* * *

Everything was progressing as planned. Catherine Locke was now “processing” me twice a day, an hour in the morning then another hour at night. Two full hours of hot and heavy sex with the stern, married captain of our esteemed vessel, each and every day, with all of it filmed and uploaded online. In between, I had Samantha Adams to fill in the gaps—by filling Adams’ gaps, you could say.

Unfortunately, my current approach was nearly out of runway. No matter how much I hammered Catherine with further “updates”, it was unlikely that she would allow “sexual processing” to take up any more of her time; she was already spending three hours a day on it (two for me, then one more for crew-wide “processing”, which was still in effect). Any more than that would meaningfully cut into her work hours, and frankly she was probably already on the edge. Admirals are busy people.

Plus, even if I did manage to convert her into a twenty-four hour “processor” with some specific combination of “updates”, there was the very real chance of endangering the Athens. We were still a warship. It’d be the height of idiocy if Imperial forces got the jump on us and I was killed because our watchful leader was sucking cock all day. I had to conquer her while preserving her naval duties, at least until this campaign was over.

So then why had I pushed her to increase the length and frequency of our sessions, if not to have “sexual processing” consume her life? The answer was simple: my real goal was the roleplay itself, making it second-nature for her to become someone else when a camera turns on. She needed to, consciously and subconsciously, get comfortable being in another’s skin. “Sexual processing” was a convenient way to fuck Catherine for now, but a pivot was necessary if I wanted to keep fucking her, even after our shared tenure aboard the Athens has ended.

Prepping for that next phase, I fiddled with the room’s wall camera until there was a familiar knock at my door. It was time for another round of “sexual processing”.

“Good to see you, Catherine.” I opened the door to greet Admiral Locke, habitually smirking at her appearance. I don’t think it’ll ever get old to treat her like a dress-up doll. Her costume tonight was skimpy, even by “processor” standards; in no way could it be considered actual clothing. Her entire torso was bare, including her fully uncovered tits and pussy. A bright red collar wrapped around her neck, while two fluffy brown triangles—dog ears—poked out from a headband atop her hair. Her hands and feet were adorned in matching brown paw-shaped mittens and slippers. Lastly, between her legs I could just barely make out a bushy tail. Based on its position, protruding from her behind, there was only one place it could possibly be inserted. From the outfit, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what I had planned for tonight.

Catherine entered my quarters in a wordless huff, her boobs and tail swaying with her steps. Then, in an emotionless voice—rarely one to give me the satisfaction of outward embarrassment—she simply asked, “Shall we begin?”

I smiled. “Oh yes, of course, Catherine. But first…” Her eyebrow twitched. Whenever I didn’t leap straight into sex, she knew I was about to request some kind of change in procedures.

Pretending not to notice her displeasure, I continued. “First, I was thinking, isn’t it just so inconvenient for me to have to verbalize the character you’re playing every time?”

“I suppose…” She hesitantly agreed, unsure where this was going.

“Right. So, you know how the camera comes with a built-in data-feed functionality?”

“Yes, it can be used to directly stream information into a recipient’s neural implant, such as breaking news to a reporter.” Her voice was a little less suspicious now, seeing what I was getting at.

“Precisely! So, if I encode your character info for each processing session into the data-feed, it would save time for both of us. We could skip any conversation and get started immediately. Would you be alright with that?”

She mused for but a moment. “Very well. We may use the camera’s data-feed in the future.”

“Great! I actually already have it set up for tonight. Let me just get things revved up.”

She motioned for me to proceed and I turned back to the camera. I knew Catherine’s personality very well by now. She was accepting of this because it truly would make things more efficient and the camera’s data-feed was a widely-used feature. Unlike my “updates”, it had no capacity to brainwash someone. It only interacted with the subject’s brain on a rudimentary level, as intended of the neural implant. It had essentially the same effect as reading text on a screen. The only difference was that large pieces of information could be processed much more quickly since it bypassed the ocular nervous system. Additionally, it was “safe”. In theory, a recipient had to purposefully accept any incoming data-feeds, to guard against spam or other malicious data.

For the average person, it was a harmless, helpful tool, but in tandem with my “updates”, it would be Catherine Locke’s death knell. She was already operating under strict “updates” regarding filming. In her mind now, breaking character was anathema. She would do anything she could to make her videos the best they could possibly be. She was already past questioning it. “Sexual processing” was thoroughly, irrevocably affixed to the top of her mental priorities. Take it a few steps further… and she’ll never be able to escape me.

It would still require another couple weeks to finalize everything with more “updates”. However, I did have a surprise ready for tonight to liven things up. I could hardly wait.

“Alright…” I turned the camera toward Catherine and clicked it on. She may have been broadly expecting it, but it was an intentional choice not to give her any specific advance warning. Now that the data-feed was involved, I’d have to be a little forceful. It was vital that her subconscious become accustomed to “automatically” slipping into character. The character turns on with the camera. Soon, that will be a fact of life for her.

In the fraction of a second after I began recording, the camera emitted a pulse of invisible rays, similar to radio waves. These rays bombarded Catherine Locke’s neural implant with countless data bytes, prompting her implant for permission to access. In situations like this, where prior consent had been explicitly granted, the implant is advanced enough to detect this fact via its host’s brain waves and grant the feed automatic access. The data would then resolve into a detailed description of a sexual roleplay in her head, imparting her with full knowledge of its contents virtually instantaneously. (It was a marvelous invention, but only used in civilian industries at present. Currently, there was no reliable way to view the contents of the data-feed in advance and the feed itself was barely encrypted, both of which made the tech ill-suited for military purposes. Perhaps in another decade or so that would change.)

Of course, this was purely a theoretical explanation. In practice, as with most modern technology, we lowly humans are unable to perceive any of what I just described. My flawed human senses could only witness the result. As soon as I turned on the camera, Catherine dropped to all fours. She looked up at me with a dumb, happy face, tongue lolling out of her mouth. Then—


She bounded towards me, no sign of human intelligence left behind her eyes. She pounced with enough force to push me to the ground, not pausing even a moment before nuzzling her face into my crotch. Her pawed hands scratched at my thigh, vainly attempting to remove the pants which still encircled my waist.

As ever, it took tremendous strength of will not to laugh. This was so sudden and so perfect. Of all the roles Catherine Locke had played as my “processor”, this was perhaps the greatest yet. She was even lower than a sex slave now, not even a person anymore. She had become, for the next hour at least, something less than human. The genius strategist of the Unified Nations had devolved into a literal bitch in heat.

“Now, now, Catherine. Stop that.” I chastised her as I rose back to my feet. She shrunk into herself from the sternness in my words, whimpering like the dog she now was and looking up at me with a pathetic pout. “Oh, it’s okay girl, it’s okay.” Acting the part of a good owner and pretending to feel bad, I calmed my voice, reaching out to scratch under her chin. She leaned into my fingers with an expression of impossible bliss, the kind of pure joy only an animal could feel. Catherine had seemingly completely sunk into her role—but how would she react to what was coming next?

I walked across the room towards the bathroom door. Catherine followed at my heels expectantly. “I have a friend I want you to meet today. Let me go get her,” I explained. Catherine slightly cocked her head. It was an appropriate display of physical confusion for a dog but, behind her eyes, I also saw human emotion for the first time since the camera came on. She genuinely had no clue what I was talking about. As far as she’d been told, tonight was just another “sexual processing” session.

Smirking, I threw open the door. Not a moment later, a pale mass dotted with fuzzy white fur leapt out.

“Woof woof!”

The newcomer nearly collided with Catherine, rolling the Admiral onto her back. Standing over her, also on all fours, was an imposing woman with muscular but still very feminine proportions. Her long blonde hair, usually tied back in a ponytail, loosely hung around her face, and she wore a dog costume nearly identical to Catherine’s, the only difference being the color of the fur.


Naturally, it was Samantha Adams. Catherine’s eyes widened at the unexpected introduction of her sister and she glanced at me with a bewildered expression. A very human expression. However, to her credit, that minor misstep was as far as she went. She didn’t fully break character, with her arms perched in front of her chest in an approximation of a dog on its back and even voicing her confusion without human words.

“Woof!” Samantha leaned down, playfully snuggling her nose between her sister’s generous melons, before licking at one of Catherine’s nipples like an overexcited puppy.

“Arf! Arf arf arf!” Catherine barked madly—likely in protest, but it was hard to tell. Commendably, she still kept acting like a dog. Well, “commendable” may not be the right word anymore. It was no longer a “choice”. She wasn’t able to turn herself back into a human, not until the camera stopped rolling; that’s how deeply entrenched the “updates” had become in her psyche. Granted, she might break character in a life-threatening situation, but this didn’t qualify. If anything, she trusted Samantha more than anyone in the world. Her overriding emotion right now was confusion, not fear or anger.

Although, under normal circumstances, she’d probably be a bit more disgusted by her sister’s tongue on her nipple. Thanks to the fact that I had a direct line to both Catherine and Samantha’s implants, I’d… relaxed the degree of physical contact which would be considered appropriate between two sisters. At first it was merely for fun, amusing myself with the thought of the two feeling each other up during private conversations, but I soon realized it could also be leveraged to further my own agenda. They weren’t about to start eating each other out (and may never reach that point), but the two wouldn’t mind a little boob action—and hopefully a threesome, as long as the emphasis was on fucking me rather than each other.

“Woah! Looks like someone’s happy to see you, Catherine.” Samantha lifted her head, craning her neck backward to look at me. “Woof woof!” There were no real words, but the energy of her barks happily affirmed my words. Now that the sheer surprise had passed, Catherine appeared to be calming down, but she still glared at me with an obvious unspoken question: “What the hell is going on here?”

That was bound to be a long conversation after tonight’s session, but I wouldn’t have taken this step if I wasn’t confident I could handle it. For now, it didn’t matter. It was time to entertain my two “pets”.

I’d started stripping down as soon as I opened the bathroom door, and now stood naked before the two women. It goes without saying that my little man was raring to go. Samantha and Catherine both stared at my erect cock with a desperate, longing expression. Catherine was merely playing her role, but it was probably a genuine reaction for Samantha. I’d been flooding her with “updates” to desire my body, to crave sex with me, to feel satisfied when she pleases me, and so on. It was amazing how far the “updates” could go when the target wasn’t starting from a place of utter contempt.

I stepped forward. Samantha was still planted on top of Catherine, although she was no longer indulging in the Admiral’s bosom. Instead, she raised herself as I approached, wiggling her hips in anticipation. Not one to decline an invitation, I crouched low and, grasping her “tail” for support, slammed my dick into Samantha’s pussy.

“Awooo! Oo-oo-ooh!” She literally howled in pleasure, tongue wagging and nearly drooling onto Catherine below. This took “doggy style” to a whole new level. I quickly settled into a comfortable rhythm, every thrust prompting new animalistic moans from the Scarlet Hunter. Her ever impressive tits hung low, swinging opposite my own movements and nearly brushing against her sister’s in the process. It was an alluring sight.

“Arf arf!” Our observer barked with inscrutable emotion. Now that she had calmed down, Catherine appeared to be assessing the situation, her brilliant mind recentering herself on her character. Crucially, she was not playing merely a normal dog. Her character was a sex-crazed animal, not one to simply watch placidly. What would she do?

“Mm…” She whimpered pitifully as I fucked her sister above her, then—desperate to be even tangentially involved—her tongue found Samantha’s breast. Their earlier roles reversed, the Admiral now energetically licked the Major’s nipples, occasionally even briefly sucking on one.

“Woof!” Samantha seemed thrilled by this development. It had to feel extremely good. Were she an actual dog, I’m sure her tail would be wagging furiously.

I picked up the pace, Catherine and I united in pleasing Samantha. “Woo-woo-woooo!” Then, just as it seemed she couldn’t take it anymore—

“Arf?!” I pulled out of Samantha and immediately slid right back… into Catherine. She may not have been mentally prepared, but her body rejoiced at her first penetration of the night. “Arf! Arf!” Now it was Catherine’s turn to yap with joy, while Samantha whined, mourning the climax I had snatched away from her. Feeling some sympathy, I teased her clit with my fingers, keeping her placated as I pistoned her sister. She happily rubbed her pussy against my hand, even if it clearly wasn’t enough to fully satisfy her.

“Arf!” “Woof!” My two pets barked without restraint, soaking in all the sexual pleasure that they could. Catherine’s expression was euphoric, the frigid Admiral washed away by waves of lust and desire. “Woof!” “Arf!” I’d never been with two women at once before. I hadn’t been some virgin prior to all this, but I guess I’d never had the charisma to woo more than one at a time. Thanks to the “updates”, nothing was out of reach, not even a threesome with the heroine sisters of the Unified Nations.

I scoffed a little, thinking back on where this had all begun. Catherine hated me in the first place because she’d been disgusted by me jacking off to AI porn of Samantha. Now, I was fucking her literally seconds after my dick had been in her sister. This was my zenith. No matter what happens in the future, the fact that I was here, experiencing this moment, meant that everything I’d worked towards, all the months of prep and “updates”, had been worth it. Of course, that’s not to say I had any intention of giving up or stopping here.

I shoved Samantha, still “standing”, down to the floor. She could have physically resisted, but made no move to. She knew I was in charge, obediently sprawling atop her sister. Their boobs made contact for the first time, the two pairs—Catherine’s very large and Samantha’s gargantuan—pressing against each other in an unforgettable display. Their new position left their limbs half-tangled and their pussies mere inches from each other, aligned vertically one atop the other.

In one uninterrupted motion, I left Catherine and returned to Samantha. After about ten seconds of fucking the Scarlet Hunter, I returned again to Admiral Locke, then back and forth, again and again. They were reduced to a pair of pussies for my sole personal pleasure, their alternating moans reciprocating my dick entering and re-entering the two of them. The interval gradually shortened as I swapped between them more and more frequently, almost feeling as if I was bouncing back and forth with every thrust. Their moans (and barks) no longer had a clear beginning or end, all three of us mutually enraptured in this perfect shared instant of sex.

In this extraordinary situation, it didn’t take long for me to approach the edge of orgasm. In turn, I was left with an impossible call: who do I cum inside first? Admiral Locke, the haughty commanding officer who thought of me as lower than dirt? Or Major Adams, the taciturn yet sexy war hero who countless men fantasize about?

The pleasure was growing. I had barely any time left. Taking in the sight of the two near-naked dog sisters, I decided there was only one path forward.

Just before I came (inside Catherine, for what it’s worth), I jabbed my dick between the two of them, bumping past their navels and blasting a stream of my seed towards their upper bodies. My jizz copiously splattered the undersides of their tits and faces.

““Awooooo!”” They both howled enthusiastically, not seeming perturbed in the slightest. Catherine and Samantha were both mine, and would be long past the events of tonight.

A little tired from doing most of the work these past ten or fifteen minutes, I extracted myself from the two women and sat on the floor a few feet away. My cock still stood tall, thickly coated with the sisters’ vaginal juices.

“Woof!” “Arf!” Catherine and Samantha righted themselves and trotted over (on all fours, of course). Without me saying a word, my semen still all over both of their bodies, they dove face-first into my dick, licking away as if it was the most delicious food in the world. Their fervor for my cock nearly morphed into bickering, subtly but constantly pushing each other out of the way, before being forced to share again a second later.

They could probably spend a while like this and I was happy to let them. Checking the clock, we were only sixteen minutes into filming. Plenty of time for rounds two, and three, and perhaps even four.

* * *

After exactly one hour (and multiple orgasms from all three of us), it finally came time to wrap up. Bracing myself for what was to come, I walked to the wall—and clicked the camera off.

Catherine was on me so fast I’d have believed she could teleport. Jabbing her forearm under my chin, she shoved me against the wall. Perhaps having ruminated on it during the session, her eyes no longer held any confusion. Now there was only fury, directed solely towards me. I might have been intimidated, were it not for her manner of dress. The collar and dog ears really deflated the image.

Anthony.” Despite her anger, she called me by my first name. Plus, she’d played the dutiful puppy the whole past hour. The “updates” were still in full force; all I had to do was lean on that fact. “Sexual processing is built on trust. You have pushed boundaries in the past, but never have you taken such flagrant action without my express approval. Do you have any justification for yourself?”

Behind her, Samantha had also risen to her feet. For the first time tonight, she looked confused. “Anthony. I believe you claimed you would discuss my participation with Admiral Locke in advance?”

It wasn’t hard to get Samantha to join in on “sexual processing”. “Sexual extraction” had given her a very casual attitude towards sex in general, and she was practically addicted to sex with me in particular. She wouldn’t put anyone in harm’s way to fuck me, but when I requested she aid her sister with my “processing”, she readily agreed—assuming Catherine herself was okay with it. Taking advantage of the trust she had for me, bestowed by the “updates”, I purposely misled Samantha. When I told her I’d handle approving her inclusion with Catherine, she didn’t question it.

It was risky to put myself in this situation, but the key was that Samantha still trusted me. I could see it in her eyes. She was puzzled, but not hostile. It wasn’t like I’d done anything that bad (at least compared to what was considered “normal” on the Athens these days). The “updates” could smooth over a small breach of faith like this and keep her on my side. That would be my path to Catherine.

“Admiral…” I started, hard to breathe with her arm on my neck. “I deeply apologize. There’s no excuse for this, but it… it slipped my mind.”

There was a long silence. Catherine looked incredulous. “It… slipped your mind? You forgot to ask my permission to include my sister in your sexual processing?”

“Y-yes,” I managed. “I… didn’t realize what I had done until Samantha was already on the scene. And, at that point, I had to stay in character. Right?”

Catherine narrowed her eyes. It was an incredibly lame, borderline negligent, excuse. If we were alone, there’s no way “I forgot” would fly. But…

“Catherine. It was a relatively last-minute decision for me to participate in tonight’s sexual processing, and I know Anthony has been extraordinarily busy with professional duties as of late. The fault is mine. I should have discussed it with you directly rather than relying on a third party.” Samantha came to my defense. I hadn’t coached her on any of this, but I also hadn’t donated any semen to her for two days now. It “almost” happened once or twice, but I’d pretended like important engineering work came up instead. Samantha knew me well enough by now. If I was “too busy” for sex, I was busy.

Catherine still looked skeptical, but at least released me from the wall. I staggered, catching my breath. She had a grip. “Thank you, ma’am”. I couldn’t use the “updates” to make Catherine directly trust me, but I could easily strengthen an existing trust—and I did. Over the past few days, I’d planted “updates” to ensure Catherine deeply trusted Samantha, even more than she already had. Samantha supporting me would, at the very least, make Catherine reconsider her actions. I just had to take it home.

Mustering all the emotion I could, I prepared for a “heartfelt” plea. “I’m sorry, ma’am, truly. I… think I was too fixated on improving the experience for viewers. Your videos are popular enough, but your sister’s in another league. With the two of you, together? The sky’s the limit.”

I played to her logic, her sense of duty and her skewed priorities. She wanted her porn videos to be the best they could be. Including another woman in the process, especially the Scarlet Hunter, would objectively make them magnitudes better. Considering that, isn’t a little forgetfulness forgivable?

Catherine still seemed torn, but hadn’t responded either way yet. Samantha, perhaps sensing her sister was undecided, spoke up again. “Catherine, if I may. I feel this would be an efficient use of both of our time. Anthony Cooper and I are already engaging in frequent intercourse as part of semen extraction.” Catherine said nothing, but her jaw tightened. I don’t think she’d been aware I was fucking her sister on the side. “If my participation in his sexual processing would assist in your own endeavors and simultaneously allow me to extract semen, I see no benefit in refusing.” While it was a logical (and appreciated) point in my favor, I don’t believe Samantha made this argument selflessly. She’d been in heaven every time my dick touched her tonight. By inserting herself into my “sexual processing”, she was guaranteeing daily sex with me. Catherine didn’t need to know how strong of a motivator that was for her sister, though.

After listening in silence as we both made our case, Catherine finally raised her eyes. Any overt emotion in her expression had been brought under control. She was back to wearing the professional mask of an Admiral. “Samantha, you may participate in Anthony’s sexual processing as you please from this point forward. I have no objections, as long as you inform me of your involvement beforehand.”

Then Catherine’s gaze turned to me, growing noticeably colder. “Chief Engineer. Forgetfulness can be deadly for one in your position. Don’t let it happen again.” Her voice dripped with venom. She hadn’t forgiven me.

I nodded respectfully, breathing a sigh of relief on the inside. We’d made it.

But I wasn’t done yet. “Of course, Catherine. You have my word.” I waited a few seconds before moving on, to let her anger cool. “Uh, before you leave, ma’am, if you’re willing to entertain another topic…”

Rolling her eyes, Catherine waved her hand half-heartedly, urging me to get on with it. Great. “While the circumstances were… unfortunate, I think tonight showed that it is extremely difficult for an untrained actor to not break character in any way. Your expressions and reactions after Major Adams’ introduction were noticeably… un-dog-like, and we can’t guarantee that similar unexpected events won’t occur during future filming sessions.”

She had no particular reaction, but didn’t object, likely having already realized the same. She also knew I was driving at something with this train of thought, but wasn’t exactly sure what. “What is your suggestion, Anthony?”

I took a deep breath. “Logically, you’ll never be able to embrace the character if part of you is still holding onto your original self. There are methods modern actors use to ‘suppress’ their sense of self and immerse themselves wholly in the role. Can I send you some relevant documentation later tonight?”

She stared for a moment, perhaps lost in thought. On the surface, my request seemed relatively innocuous, so she was probably examining it from every angle for possible malicious intent.

“Fine. Send me the papers.” Evidently, she found nothing.

“Will do, Admiral. Right away!”

* * *

After that, Catherine Locke and Samantha Adams departed for the evening, striding out into the hall side-by-side in those mouthwatering dog costumes. If they were embarrassed, neither showed any sign of it.

Once they’d left, my mind turned to what came next. The difficulty with my “updates” is that they’re not suited to directly overwriting one’s memory or personality. They function by making gradual shifts in the brain’s reasoning and thought processes. I can guide someone towards a ridiculous lifestyle over time, as I have throughout the Athens, but any major change has to be “logical” enough for their subconscious to accept it. In hindsight, maybe I should have pushed Catherine towards something other than “sexual processing”, something that would have been easier to turn on its head and convert her into a full-time sex slave. But it was no use pondering “what-ifs”. I’d made my choices. My current situation was what it was and I had to make the best of it.

My next steps would be bold, but should be successful according to several simulations. True, my “updates” couldn’t force someone to forget themselves—but if the subject willingly forgets, that’s something else entirely.

Practically skipping to my desk, I sat down and sent Catherine a collection of articles and interviews with (mostly obscure) actors. They were all genuine publications, not anything I’d fabricated. All were carefully curated by me to espouse an array of meditation and self-hypnosis techniques. Taken in total, they outlined various tips and tricks to “forget” oneself while acting and “become” the character.

Put bluntly, it was pseudo-science. Even with the most receptive individual following these techniques to the letter, even if the results were everything they claimed to be, it’s impossible for one person to truly become another. There would always be a kernel of their original personality, existing as a kind of spectator and ready to reassert control at any time. However, once augmented by the insidious power of my “updates”, it would be a whole different story. In fact, the techniques themselves weren’t actually important. They’re just a way for my “updates” to get their metaphorical foot in the door.

This was the biggest leap in my plan, an unproven but crucial theory. Based on all my observations, it appeared implant “updates” could push the brain past conventional limits. For example, the crew-wide “processors” became adept at pole-dancing exceptionally quickly. Similarly, while it’s entirely possible Catherine Locke is innately talented at acting, she melts into her roles during “sexual processing” in a way talent alone can’t explain. She performs more like an acclaimed actor than a naval admiral, even able to cry on command. Sure, it’s not perfect (as this evening demonstrated), but when she’s on, she’s on.

The implant “updates” were powerful. As long as she tries to forget, tries to become the character, I will ensure that she can. Not right away, and not all at once, but if I keep piling on the “updates”…

Catherine would only even consider entertaining measures like this because of her existing “updates” and subsequent overpowering desire to better our “sexual processing” videos. Minor as it was, the fact that she cracked tonight will weigh on her mind; that will be her incentive, her impetus for further improvement. She’ll probably still be skeptical reading these documents, but as long as she gives it an earnest attempt, she’ll have sealed her fate.

This would be the final piece of the puzzle, the final nail in Admiral Locke’s coffin. All I needed was a little more time.