The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It’s time for my appointment with Rae and I feel as nervous as I have every time before an appointment with her. It isn’t as if I’ve never seen a therapist before but this time feels different. This therapist actually seems to understand so much more than it feels she should. She can actually understand the temptation to abuse a power like I have, and she believes me that I’m carrying my girlfriend’s baby.

Our baby, Sylvia . . . I can’t feel her inside of me yet, and I am definitely not showing yet, but I am sure whatever she did worked just like she said it would. I could feel her energy, her life force blending with mine. It was so tender, so erotic, and so loving.

Sa- . . . Lucia promised to be there for me after she’s born. She’s even gone shopping with me for things I’m going to need. Olivia tagged along of course, and she didn’t seem happy at all. It was impossible not to see my Sarah inside of Lucia’s eyes even if she was wearing contacts. She was the woman I found beaten with a nasty needle mark in her arm. She was he reason I fell for my Sarah so quickly. My head spins every time I try to figure out how I should feel.

Even though The Domina’s intentions were evil, Sarah never let me see that side of her. I was right beside Silver Girl when we took down that auction house. I was right beside her when we stopped common thugs who wandered into the wrong neighborhood at the wrong time. She was so sincere about her desire to make the world a better place. She was so passionate.

All of those things are inside of Lucia. She gets the same determined look in her eyes. I don’t know how I didn’t see it the first time I saw her as Patina. She trembles the same way when she’s nervous, she bites her lip the same way when she’s unsure how to proceed, and she has the same lips.

It’s been so hard not to beg her for just one kiss, for her to work her magic on me and let me say goodbye to my Sarah. Lucia might have been the one who helped her fry her own mind into a scrapheap but I wouldn’t want to raise Sylvia in a world ruled by The Domina. Everyone would be happy but it would have no meaning. There would be no free will. There would be no struggles. The meanings of life would lose all of their meaning.

Lucia might act like my Sarah, but she doesn’t act like The Domina. I think she’s more uncomfortable around me than I am around her. She doesn’t deserve to feel like that.

Sighing I finish getting dressed, sliding into my favorite purple skirt with white horizontal stripes. The color resembles my hair enough and the white provides a cute contrast. It doesn’t show a lot of leg either but still looks pretty enough without that benefit.

My top is just a white blouse, buttoned all of the way up, and I’ll throw my black leather jacket on over it before I go outside. I’m going to be early to Rae’s office again, but her receptionist Gladys always seems happy about that so it makes me feel like even if I can’t make any progress in the session I can at least make someone’s day better. I can’t heal anyone anymore. I don’t have a job, and no one’s about to hire someone just waiting to go on maternity leave.

Sarah and I had a decent savings – a legitimate savings – and it can carry me through for awhile. Gale said she can try to get me my job back, but she couldn’t make any promises. The Midas Touch might be better off without me. Hell, leaving was the best thing I ever did for them. They’re state of the art now.

I have to remember to call Susan when I get home. We have to just talk about why it’s so hard to talk so we can get closer. I want her to be involved in Sylvia’s life. We can be there for each other about the loss of our lovers. After all, it’s mine’s fault that hers left. She’s such a sweet woman too; she doesn’t deserve to lose her so quickly.

No one deserves to lose the one they love when it’s not their fault and the love is actually genuine. We both did everything right. We didn’t hurt anyone else. We didn’t know what was going on . . .

Maybe I won’t be able to bring it up to her after all, but it would be a lot better if I could. If I can’t have a lover then it would at least be a little better if I could be better friends with her mother. She made it sound like a witch girl is an easy birth, but I’m not exactly a normal. What if that adds complications?

I wish I had any way of getting a hold of a LaSilvas.

My leather jacket wraps around me, and I zip it up tight before leaving the apartment and locking it up behind me. I could get a hold on one, but she wouldn’t get a hold on me.

“Hi Valerie. Take a seat, I’ll let Rae know you’re here.” Gladys waves at me, and I wave back with only half of the effort that I know I should. She’s not a bad person, a little strange with those cat eyes that you can’t be sure if they’re looking at you or just looking sometimes, but that’s not the reason for my foul mood.

Then again, if my mood was perfect I think we’d both know that I needn’t need to see Doctor Keeneson. Doctor Keeneson . . . I wonder if anyone will ever call me Doctor Raine? Nothing I did on the space station was unethical, but some of it did push at the boundaries, knowing what I know now.

Nobody told me that the women Melinda was experimenting on were controlled into being cooperative! None of her files, none of my investigations, nothing showed me anything out of the ordinary.

“Hey Gladys . . . Thanks. I’ll just take my usual spot.” It feels a little hotter in the office than usual, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. After I take my seat I take off my Jacket and wrap my arms around it instinctively. The smell is soothing. This was a jacket that Sarah got for me. She said that the only thing cuter than a doctor with purple hair was a doctor with purple hair wearing a leather jacket.

Something feels off about the atmosphere, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. It almost seems a little bit too humid, and Gladys is wearing a lot more black than she usually does. It almost looks like she’s mourning, except for the fact that she can’t keep that satisfied, half-melted grin off of her face. Someone must have found love.

I’m so happy for her.

The usual magazines I pretend to paw through so I can feel less awkward aren’t there. I would ask about it, but Gladys seems far too intent on whatever it is that she’s up to. Her fingers just keep click, click, clacking away on those keys as if she’s running a marathon with them.

I wonder how long I’ll wait after Sylvia is born before I go back to working. I wonder what it’ll be like to be a working single mom. Susan can give me plenty of advice on that, and I’m sure that Sylvia will take after her mother as much as Susan says that Sarah takes after hers. At least she was with Lida for longer before she off and disappeared the first time. At least they’d had more time . . .

There’s the sound of a door opening, and I only realize that was what the sound is when it’s followed by the sound of Rae’s voice. “Hello Valerie! I know you’re here early, but I don’t have anything scheduled at the moment . . . would you like to get started a little early? It’s free.”

“Of . . . of course . . .” When I actually get a look at her the words pause in my throat. She barely looks like herself! Oh, it’s her all right, the same figure, the same face, but everything else is different. Her hair is done up in a way that somehow makes her seem so much more open, so much more flirtatious, and she’s not dressed anything like I’ve ever even imagined her in before!

All of it is black, just like Gladys. The skirt is long enough, but the slits . . . I can see so much of her legs . . . Her top looks like it has three buttons too few, and I swear I can almost see a hint of lace peeing up over the top. I can’t ever remember Rae looking so . . . stacked. She’s even wearing a good amount of makeup, and her grin makes me think of Gladys, but it almost seems more delighted in a lustful way. She could have just sent someone out the back door and I wouldn’t be surprised. She definitely looks good enough to make my heart double up on a beat or two but . . . why . . .?

The only thing that’s the same are her turtle shell glasses.

My legs shake just a little as I try to stand and it makes me blush to realize that she can obviously tell it’s because of her. She doesn’t call any attention to it though, she just smiles in an almost approving way.

Laughing a little at my own silliness I follow her back into her office, and once we’re there I smooth my skirt and take the usual place at her couch. She keeps looking at me, much more than usual, and it feels like there’s intent behind it. Maybe she’s just having a really good day and I’m feeling a little off.

“So, Valerie, did you think about what we discussed last time?” Rae’s voice sounds so much silkier today, and she’s sitting so much closer to me than she usually does. Her chair is pulled so close to the couch. Maybe I’m just embarrassed because my eyes keep wandering even though I really don’t want them to. It’s not just that she looks good, she just has such a strong aura about her today, and I feel safe with her even if she seems a little strange.

“Yes, I did . . .” Last time . . . We’d ended on the note of The Argentum Project. The last thing we’d been going into with more depth was that I need to stop blaming myself for things I had no control or awareness about. I have thought about it . . . “But I just keep blaming myself for all of it, all over again . . .”

Rae sighs and shakes her head. She sounds so much more sympathetic today than she usually does. It’s a pouty sort of sigh, but not condescending. It’s more . . . like flirtatious understanding of a sad situation. I don’t know what’s happened to her. Maybe this is some new counseling technique. Things must have changed a lot since the last time I saw a shrink, hell the last time I saw Mystic. She always seemed so conservative before.

There is something even more alluring about how she looks knowing it’s not how she usually looks, but I try to suppress that. I also try to ignore that it feels so hot in here. “Valerie, Valerie, Valerie . . . You were doing your job! You were only doing what you were sure was the best for these women, and for humanity as a whole . . . In fact . . . You even volunteered yourself, didn’t you?”

“Yes . . .” My right hand lets go of my jacket and I rest it over my heart to feel the precise robotic beating under my skin. It has the perfect heart beat. It always will. My mist actually helps it operate more efficiently and keeps it from conflicting with the organic parts of my heart . . .

“You let Mind Bore do the same process to you. You put your life into her hands. You didn’t do anything more to others than you were willing to do yourself, and they were perfectly willing as far as you know. Nothing I’ve seen or heard from you proves anything else. You even feel remorse for what happened to them.” She sighs and leans forward as she writes something onto a clipboard in her lap with a ballpoint pen, and I can’t resist the view of her dipping cleavage.

She is definitely wearing a black lacy bra. I know I shouldn’t be sizing her up like this, but with how she’s acting it almost seems like she would be disappointed if I didn’t. Her flesh just looks so firm, so soft, so yielding yet . . .

She looks up, and her eyes meet mine. Maybe I’m letting the stress get to me. I wouldn’t normally be so forward with anyone . . . Especially not while grieving over the loss of Sarah. I need to get a grip. “I know that. I do. It doesn’t change the fact that I helped a woman . . . construct . . . helpless robotic . . . slaves . . .” Saying that makes it feel a little hotter in here, and just thinking about it, thinking about the metal in my chest makes my eyes hood on their own and my legs squirm against my will.

I’d always dreamed about being turned into a robot, being put onto a cool metal table and being made more machine than woman, more helpless than in control, just a little doctor robot slave to do whatever my maker desired . . . and I half achieved that fantasy.

Knowing Melinda’s—Mind Bore’s reputation I have to wonder if that was all she did. Did she do more to me that I just don’t remember while she was giving me this mechanically enhanced heart?

“You helped women become healthier and sturdier. Space construction is difficult. Your own research shows that these operations meant the difference between internal stresses and being wholly unaffected. Your own findings on your reaction to these stimuli show that you fared exceptionally well. All of them are being given a chance to heal . . . You should give yourself a break.” Her voice still has that sweetness, that dripping with worry edge to it, and it would be insulting if I didn’t know her better.

She must be trying to get me to think about this in a different way. She knows I know all of this psychobabble already. She knows that for awhile I was seriously tempted to go down the same career path that she did. Maybe she thinks making me a little unprepared for her responses will change my thought processes.

“I know, and I’m glad. But . . . the implants . . . they’re permanent. Those women didn’t agree to be turned into test subjects. They’ll never be able to go through a metal detector again without remembering what happened to them.” Neither will I. They can scan over me and come to the conclusion that I’m just full of robotic implants, but at first it’s going to beep like mad.

I’m part machine now. Goddess the thought makes a part of me shudder. I’m part robot. I’ve been turned into a robotic toy, even if no one is using that part of me anymore, I know it’s there. When Mystic went through my mind she told me that she’d found programming in there that she could undo, and I’d let her, but there must still be something inside of me to make me easy to program. There must be something inside of me for Mind Bore to activate and make me fall to my knees without a choice in the world.

It’s so hard to keep my thighs still and my cheeks must be so red. I have to keep blinking and rubbing my eyes, not to mention yawning to try and brush off the signs of arousal I’m giving off.

“Don’t hide the way you feel about them, Valerie . . . Every time you say implants, your nipples get harder. That top isn’t especially thick you know. Your legs keep rubbing together.” She leans closer, and her eyes are two of the most alluring things I’ve ever seen. Her pupils just look so much darker than any I’ve ever seen before. Just glancing into them makes me feel like I could be pulled inside. “It arouses you.”

“I . . . It’s that obvious . . . Isn’t it?” She’s a therapist. I know that I can tell her anything that I need to tell her. She’s not going to judge me. She’s not going to use this against me . . . she just wants to help me get well.

“Yes, it is sweetie. But that’s okay! That’s a good first step! Everyone is aroused by things they shouldn’t be. Some women have rape fetishes. Some, their greatest desire is to be wrapped up in latex and told what to do.” She reaches out a hand, and it just barely cups around my cheek. Her fingertips are so soft and so precise. My whole body shakes as I feel a jolt go down my spine. “You need to embrace this. You need to own it. Own your arousal. Give your self permission to be turned on by something dark and wrong.”

She always has a powerful voice, but it feels especially powerful today. It feels like she knows just what to say. She’s always been insightful before, but this time it seems more precise. She’s definitely trying to lead me down some path, but which path, I don’t know.

Right now my heart would be beating out of control if it wasn’t so meticulously regulated. Every possible reaction is accounted for. From running a marathon, to sitting on the couch, to childbirth . . . my heart will stay the same rhythm. There will never be another moment in my life where I am not being robotically controlled, my body forced to obey a machine.

Between Mystic’s words and where they’re leading me I wish I’d brought an extra pair of panties.

My heart might not be able to quicken, but my breathing can. “I . . . This is different . . .” I can’t just embrace this . . . I don’t own it – it owns me! This fascination is more than just a simple fascination. Without trying it can melt away every other aspect of my personality and tear me away from reality to leave me staring with blank, glassy eyes.

Oh god, it’s doing it to me right now!

“How is it any different, Valerie? You know the theories behind what I’m saying. I know that. We discussed that. I can tell by the look on your face. I can practically hear you thinking it . . .” Carefully Rae lifts the pen in front of her mouth, and clicks the tip in before kissing the metal at the end of the pen’s sheath. “Your fetish is out of control, because it was impossible, and now it is your every day life. You went from dreaming about it every day, to having it every day . . . and it’s too much for you.”

“It’s so powerful, that sometimes . . . when you have your hand on your chest like you do now, you don’t even realize it. You don’t realize that you count more precisely now, and that you time everything off of your internal ticking clock. Sometimes you just imagine the heartbeats as sounds, until they get louder, and louder, and wash away the emotional stress you’re trying to suppress . . .”

The way her voice ends that last sentence feels like she’s going to say more, but she doesn’t. She just watches me, and rests her pen against her lips. She doesn’t move. She barely even seems to breathe. All of her attention is just focused on me . . . and it’s dizzying.

“Yes . . . You’re right I . . .” It’s been so hard not to use my own loss of humanity as something to help me cope with Sarah being gone, with Lucia still being here, feeling somehow responsible for Susan losing Lida . . .It’s so classic. I’m just hiding from one reality that scares me inside of another reality that scares me because it turns me on and makes the first one go away.

This new counseling technique of Rae’s is very effective. It is making my head spin and my hips squirm much more than I ever have during counseling before, but it’s not a bad thing. It’s just exhausting.

Rae nods, and for just a moment she grins . . . and then clicks back out the tip of her pen before pulling it away from her mouth. She quivers when she does, almost as if pulling it away from her mouth was hard and undesirable, but . . . that’s just ridiculous. I’m just trying to doubt her so that I can pull back into my shell. I need to be strong . . . I need to get a grip on myself . . . if not for myself then for Sylvia.

She’s never looked sexier before, but she’s never looked smarter before either. Something about the satisfied, confident air that’s surrounding her makes her shine more brightly. The sweat shining on her forehead and at her cleavage doesn’t hurt the view either. It really is too hot in here.

Just as I’m about to ask if she could turn on the A/C, Rae starts to speak again as if she hadn’t stopped. “So you need to accept both realities. You need to accept that something inside of you has changed, and might not ever be the same again. You need to accept that you have become the living embodiment of your fetish . . . That’s the first step. Confronting the harsher reality so soon with the more sexualized reality vying for control would only leave you exhausted and confused.”

“I understand . . . But . . . What do I need to do . . .?” It only just now occurs to me that she’s doing a lot more talking than she usually does. Maybe that’s why she seems so much smarter and powerful. Normally therapists just ask you question after question and then force an “ah-ha moment” when you solve your own problem, but Rae is taking control and leading this session.

It’s a safe feeling to be led. My entire body is being led every moment. What my brainstem used to do is controlled by metal in my chest. It only feels natural for the rest of my brain’s control to be co-opted. . . . but is that healthy? I don’t know how I should be feeling.

I just know that I feel better with her helping me today than I have since the project.

“You need to let go, and let yourself see just how deep this fetish and your own . . . transformation . . . has effected you. Before, you used to daydream about being turned into this. You daydreamed about your every thought, your every wish . . . your every desire being controlled by a machine. There are machines inside of you that could replicate those effects . . .”

Rae’s eyes tent, and my breath quickens again. “You need to feel how helpless and vulnerable your sense of self motivation has become as a result . . . A part of you is waiting for a controller to use you like a toy. As a result, it’s become harder and harder to make your own decisions . . . hasn’t it?”

It’s like she’s . . . it’s like she’s reading into my soul. I thought it was just my depression stealing my drive and motivation, coupled with the uncertainty of raising Sylvia on my own but . . . this makes so much sense.

I’m waiting for someone to take control of my life. A part of me is waiting for Mind Bore to be in my apartment when I come home, just waiting to activate latent programming and make me into her perfect robotic automaton. I’ve craved that. Every time, my apartment turns up empty after a thorough search, and I wind up not relieved but . . . disappointed and so aroused that I can’t think until I relieve the tension.

“It . . . it has . . . It’s been like my whole sense of self is wrapped around that irrational need to submit . . .” That need . . . It’s truly quite hard to tell if it was always there, or if I’m just feeling it now. Being so vulnerable right now I wouldn’t be surprised if I had just a little bit of hypochondria.

What am I saying? This is Doctor Keeneson. Why would she have any ulterior motives? She’s the woman to thank for my Sarah being sane. Lucia explained to me that their lives split a short time before she met her, but I know that my Sarah met her too. She’s a healer. She’s a doctor. She wants to help me get well not twist me around into some kind of . . . some kind of . . . robotic heart slave . . .

Just the thought makes me want to twist my nipples and clench. “That’s exactly what’s happening, Valerie . . . But I can help. You can help yourself . . . the treatment is actually very simple, but very effective.”

Mmm, a part of me doesn’t want to be cured. I am a robotic heart slave, or at least it would be so easy to use me like one. My heart is the perfect metronome. I already do use it to keep time . . . and who knows what remote control devices are implanted inside of it, or inside of some other innocuous part of me. My nipples might be some kind of antennae . . . oh that gets me so wet . . . no, not wet, lubricated, like a machine, a well oiled machine.

No! I need to take control of this. I need to . . . She said that I needed to embrace this? She said that I needed to let go? Doesn’t that mean that I . . . oh god that I would get to indulge in those fantasies!

“How can I fix this?! It’s just so much, doctor . . . Even right now, I mean, just talking about this is making me feel a little . . . a little more . . . aroused . . .than I want to really admit . . . It’s starting to be more than I can control. Sometimes, I just, when I’m alone, I’ll think like this, and goddess I’ll rarely admit it to myself, but I’ll feel like I’ve just come out of a blank with my hand between my legs, another twisting a nipple, my lips whispering some mantra or another . . .” My eyes are filling with tears, and my pussy is just dripping more and more. I’m as ashamed and afraid as I am turned on. “I can’t let this get worse . . .”

“Like I said, Valerie . . . first, you need to surrender to it. It’s a lot like the first step of any twelve step program, only a little farther. You need to feel, and embrace, the depths of where this can take you . . . You need to let it turn you on so much that you can feel each clasp clicking in your heart as a line of code thrumming into place between your pretty purple eyes . . .” Her voice is so sensual, so sexy . . .

With those glasses, it’s so easy to imagine her as some fiendish roboticist telling me what she’s already done to me. Mmm, telling me that I’m just a helpless little drone now, and that helpless drones only do one thing: obey. She’d order me to my knees, make me crawl over to her like a slut and push up that skirt . . .

Is it hot in here, or is it just that I’m so aroused that my skin is shining like this? My nipples feel so hard, I just want to twist and turn them and scream wantonly for her to obey one pleasure protocol or another.

“I think I’m . . . I think I’m doing that, right now, doctor . . . Rae . . . Oh god . . .” Clasps clicking, a line of code, and a click in my clit. It feels like there’s an invisible line – no – a line of wires tracing from the inside of my clit to my heart, and then up into my brain. Every click just conditions me deeper with pleasure, and mental commands. “It’s all I can do to stop from . . . from just stripping right here . . . It’s so hot in here! My clothes feel like they’re going to melt me like a candy wrapper . . . oh . . .”

Click, snap, oooooh click again. Every lub and every dub is like a shot of euphoria into my clit. All of that code keeps funneling into my brain and It’s so hard not to let my eyes close so I can see and feel the code. “If it’s so hot . . . for this exercise, you can unbutton that top a little . . . At least to let yourself breathe. Any good machine needs adequate ventilation. You don’t wrap up a computer in cotton.”

“N-n-noooo you don’t . . . goddess no you don’t . . .” Oh and that’s just what I am, just a computer with legs and tits and a wet aching cunt. My fingers are shaking, but I have to unbutton some of my top, at least enough so I can breathe easier. I don’t need to show her my bra, just . . . just a little too much, enough to tempt and tease her with . . . maybe if I do this well enough, maybe if I use a little bit of mist, I can coax her into being my owner for this . . . exercise . . .

“You’re very beautiful Valerie, you shouldn’t hide it like you were before . . . You should show it to the world.” Rae . . . Rae is sweating too. Is she turned on as I am? She’s certainly not buttoned up . . . Oh I wish she would command me to suck one of those breasts, I can see her hard nipples poking against her top . . . “Do you mind if I pop another button?”

“Yess! I mean no . . . No, I don’t mind, feel free . . .” I grab part of my open top and use it to fan myself, panting as much from arousal as from the heat. Carefully I hike up my skirt with the other hand, flapping that too in a graceful way to try and cool off. My pussy feels like it’s on fire.

Rae grins, and I know that she knows I’m watching her. I can see it in her eyes, and I can see it in her hands when she undoes the next button, and I can see the pretty black lace bow right between her firm . . . mmmm . . . I’m sure she could use a pleasure bot! I’m already preprogrammed, no assembly required. All I need is for her to order and command me to do whatever she wants. I’ll be doing it as quickly as she asks and twice as focused!

Oh but . . . her hands aren’t stopping . . .! They keep unbuttoning, and unbuttoning, until I can see the smooth skin of her belly, and then she leans back with her shirt open, the sides of it resting half over her breasts. They’re so much more than I would have thought . . . not that I ever thought of them before . . .

Her eyes look so glassy and pretty. Something about how dark they seem today is so infinitely attractive and commanding. Giving into this fetish feels so good, it really is so strong, and if it’ll help me be a better mother for Sylvia . . .

“Now sweetie . . . I need you to unbutton more of your top. Let me see the scars you still have from the surgery . . . You must still have some, right . . .?” She knows just what to say to make me steamy. I don’t know if I’d ever really care if she was just trying to use this as a way to touch me, as a way to get closer to me. I’ve been so lonely, so horny, so out of control, and if she wants to take control and give me everything else I need then I want her to do it.

“Of course . . . It’s healed well, but it hasn’t been nearly long enough for there to be no signs . . .” A few more buttons go away, and I show more than she asks for. She can see the lowest curve of my bra, but I don’t care. I’m just a hot steamy machine, and hot steamy machines don’t really have much in the way of modesty. Shifting on the couch I lean towards her, panting as she leans in close to see the delicately raised skin.

Her lips part, slowly, and the sweetest sound of pleasure melts from her lips as she reaches out a fingertip to run over each of the little marks. “They’re so beautiful . . . These are what helped you get that heart . . . That helplessness . . . Do you know what did it to me . . .?”

“What . . .?” That doesn’t make any sense . . . Mystic doesn’t have this helplessness. Rae is above all of this, she even usually dresses like it, doesn’t show herself off like some . . . like some slutty toy . . .

“I wish I could share it with you . . . But that’s not what She wants . . . Not for you . . . Not yet . . . Instead . . . You get this . . .” Oh! I don’t know how she managed to get her hand under my skirt without my eyes catching it, without noticing it, must have been that hand over my central processor . . . Something pushes its way inside of me after my panties are pulled to the side, and I can feel . . . oh I can feel it melting out inside of me, hard and cool, metal, but dripping, pouring . . .

When Sarah filled me with her essence, with our combined essence . . . It felt like this. It felt like heat, pleasure, and like every part of my body couldn’t stop shuddering and tensing. It felt like overload, like over stimulation, like too many orgasms at once, like too sweet a taste, oh but I loved it then and I love it now!

My mist starts to rise out of me, and I can’t stop it. This feeling is too strong, it’s taking away all of my self control, just melting it out of my pussy as whatever this is keeps filling me more and more, and I can feel as much of it dribble out of me as I can feel being absorbed, tracing the line from my clit to my heart to my hot wet soaked mind!

I clutch at Rae’s shoulder and scream as her hand starts to move it . . . the . . . the pen inside of me. I don’t want to mist her, don’t want her to stop, don’t want her to slow, but with reactions like this, I just can’t . . . I just can’t stop flowing!

“Mmmm . . . You’re so wet, Valerie . . . Mmm . . . Amethyst . . . That was your name, when you dressed up, wasn’t it?” She unbuttons more of my top, and I whimper as she grabs and starts twisting my nipple through the bra. “She told me you’d mist me, wouldn’t be able to help it . . . that you misted like this when Sarah fucked you with her sparked lips, her sparked tongue, or her sparked fingertips, and it would be no different now . . . Mmm . . . It’s like being melted for Her all over again . . .”

“Her . . .?” I can’t compute past the pen in my dataport and I don’t want to. I can feel new coding flowing into me through the expansion pack being pumped inside of me, and it makes me feel so sluttysimpleobedient like I’ve never felt before . . .

“Yes . . . Her . . . Don’t worry, you’ll be meeting Her very soon . . . You have a mutual friend, and you’re going to help Her throw that friend a little surprise party . . .” Her lips curl into a smirk, and I can barely keep my optic sensors on her as she moans and twists my other antenna even harder. “Won’t you, you hot little Mist-bot?

Mist bot . . . That was . . . That was what Mind Bore called me . . . Can barely remember it, just through some fuzz, but I . . . I know she called me that . . . A hotwethelpless Mist Bot, needing to obey her controller, her controllers . . . Her . . .

Rae starts to nuzzle against my face, and I whimper a yes as best as I can, but I can’t make the “e” sound no matter how hard I try. “That’s a good Mist-bot . . . Good little slutty Mist-bot . . . And just like after every Operating System upgrade . . . Do you know what we need to do to you, do you know what we need to do to your mind . . .?”

“Oh!” My thighs clench hard and I scream as my system locks up and pleasure rocks through me, lubricant and ink bursting and melting over me, melting into my helpless data port as she keeps the expansion pack buried so deep inside . . .! “Re . . . re . . . reboot!”

“That’s right . . . So reboot little Mist-bot . . . And let Her programming take control. The first . . . . Mmmm . . . The first step to becoming a good helpless slave is . . . Mmm . . . Realizing you don’t have a choice . . .” I can’t stop misting . . . Rae keeps nuzzling closer against me, she might be on the couch now, I don’t know . . . but I can feel programs close down—emotion files, memory sub processes, personality files . . . and then my internal screens go black.

I’m naked, and chains of white blocky ones and zeroes wrap around me and inside of me. Bit after bit after byte of data keep flowing into me and holding me more and more taut, and all I can do is moan and shudder in my bonds.

“Mist Bot is now property of Yana N. Ritter. She is the only authorized user. Ink OS has been successfully installed, and Mist Bot will obey any and all commands from her new owner. She was designed to obey. She is a tool. She is a toy. She is a possession.” The voice is so mechanical, a text to speech program, like the kind that my school used to have when I was . . . no . . . the kind that my programming used to have before it was sophisticated enough . . . “Acknowledge.”

“Aaaaack-k-knowledged . . . Mist Bot is property of . . .” and I repeat verbatim everything told to me, over and over again. Liscence agreements. Terms of service.

I don’t need to pay attention, it’s all going to be inside of my programming and I will obey it as it becomes active. A Mist Bot does not think. A Mist Bot computes. A Mist Bot obeys. A Mist Bot is the perfect toy or tool for any medical or sexual occasion, and can even emulate personality for enjoyment of her owner.

This Mist Bot’s owner is Yana N. Ritter. The name is familiar, like it’s from something I once read or . . . no . . . Mist Bots do not read, Mist Bots assimilate new data, uploaded from expansion packs inside of their data ports or download updates via Ethernet.

“Mist Bot will run personality VRaine.ink whenever another file has not been requested. Mist Bot will keep wireless communications open to receive commands and programming from owner. Acknowledge.”

“Ack-k-knowledged . . .”

“Save changes, and reinitialize.”

“Oh . . . What happened . . . ?” Whimpering I rub the side of my head, and try to remember anything about what’s happened today at all. I woke up, I thought about depressing things . . . I went to Rae’s office I . . .

I’m . . . not wearing any clothes . . . !

Rae is sitting on the chair, and I’m sprawled across the couch, the hints of violet pubic hair that have been growing since I stopped caring visible for the world to see. It feels so hot in here, and my nipples feel so sore, my sex feels so sore, but not in a bad way. I feel so . . . wet . . .

“You’re progressing very well, Valerie . . .” Rae’s not wearing . . . she’s not wearing panties, and her skirt is hiked up over her knees. She keeps moving something inside of herself, and shaking . . . “You’ve embraced your fetish entirely and became just what you always wanted to be, that’s a very . . . Oooouh-yesss . . . Good . . . Girl . . . nnnnn . . . but the next step is even . . . even more important . . .”

“What the . . . What’s going on . . .?!” I try to stand up, but just end up falling back against the couch before I can even sit up. “Why are you . . . doing . . . that?!”

Rae’s face twists into a helplessly aroused grin and she spreads her legs wider, arching out her back. God she’s not wearing a bra and her shirt is hanging open . . . I can see her nipples, they look so hard, her chest looks so flushed . . . “Because She wants me to . . . And that’s the next step . . . You need to be ready on a moment’s notice to do what She wants you to do . . . She can’t have you getting a 403 result on one command or another . . .”

‘What do yo—“

Mist Bot will kneel before R.Keeneson and provide oral pleasure while also continuing the use of her sexual aid. Mist Bot will continue to run VRaine.ink. Acknowledge.

“Acknowledged. Mist Bot will obey. Mist Bot will obey what?!” I can feel that something just . . . something just went into my mind, but I can’t . . . I can’t . . . Did something go in or . . . Did something go out . . .? All I know is that I have to give my therapist the best tongue bath she’s ever felt in her life.

I fall to my knees in front of her and gently pull her hand away from her toy. It’s the pen she was kissing earlier . . . it’s such a pretty pen, even has the letters Q and S engraved with red ink filling in the impressions. I take the pen in my hand and thrust it inside of her as my lips close around her clit, tongue teasing to coax her along that sweet peak.

“Oooh yes! Oh goooooddess thank youuuuu Quiiiiill Spawn . . .! Th-th-thaaaaank . . . youuuuuu . . .!” I don’t know who Quill Spawn is, but the taste of her ink and cum is almost too much. My whole life feels based around tonguing at her and thrusting this pen into her as best as I can. It’s my reason for living, my only desire, it’s my purpose, and it feels more and more certain with every heart beat. This is the way that I’m supposed to be. This is who I am.

Mist Bot will engage sedative protocols and then will shut down. Acknowledge.

“Ack-nwg . . .” I seal my mouth over her, and blow my mist into her. I don’t know why, but it’s just as important. Oh if only I were being controlled into this and wasn’t just such a horny craving slut lately . . .

Rae’s legs close around my head, and I only moan as I can feel all of the tension slowly melting out of them. No one can stand so much mist, so quick, without just passing out and losing everything but bliss and sleep . . .

I close my eyes and moan as I slump onto the floor, and I feel myself melting right through it.