The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Not again!

I don’t know how many times this has happened to me. I wake up and realize I’m completely naked, sitting upright in a chair. My hands are bound behind the back of the chair and my ankles are bound each to one of the chair’s legs. There’s something in the chair itself that’s lightly tickling my clit. This must be one of those Fucking Chairs™.

And each time this happens, I wonder the same thing: whoever knocked me out, what did they use? I’d really like some of that stuff to help me sleep on my own terms.

I try to assess my surroundings. Sterile looking room. No windows, or rather, if there are any windows, they’re behind me. The door must be behind me. There are no cameras or surveillance equipment visible within my line of sight but that means nothing. The floor feels cold beneath my bare feet. And it’s bright in here. Almost too bright.

Okay, so that’s different from other times I’ve been captured and bound to a Fucking Chair™. I’m usually somewhere grimy and dirty.

I remember thinking that this was one of the more bizarre cases when the cops walked into my office, asking for help. They said they were investigating some strange goings-on at a prosthetic factory, complete with missing women who had, well, acted strangely before their disappearance. The cops needed someone not as bound by the law, ethics, or a need for sleep.

I thought about it for a minute and said “Sure...”

So here I am, wherever here is. The Fucking Chair™ is a pleasant distraction, at least until my captor or captors make themselves known. I do wish I could play with my tits though.

So the sensation on my clit keeps getting stronger and stronger and then, just as I’m about to climax, it stops. An involuntary whimper escapes my lips as I try to adjust my position enough to gain some degree of self satisfaction.

I take a deep breath and will myself to ignore the need that had been building in my loins since before I was captured in the first place. I close my eyes and will myself the patience for the machine either to start up, or for someone to find me.

I hear a creaking behind me, followed by footsteps on the floor. Judging by the way the sounds reach my eardrums, I’d say that this person is wearing heels. At least five inches, maybe longer. “Who’s there?” I ask to my still-unseen visitor.

Her voice sounds pleased, like she’s about to start laughing. “Carmine Belch!”

“That’s my name too. What a coincidence.”

“Carmine Belch, Private Investigator... Or should I say...” By this time, she’s standing right in front of me. She places her hands on my knees, leans in close so that her face is inches away from mine. “Private Dick!” She stands up and lets out a cackle-like laugh. Almost as if she’s actually saying “Ha ha ha ha ha.”

I arch my back defiantly. “So are you going to tell me who you are and what you want from me, or will I have to force it out of you?”

She leans in and pinches one of my nipples. “I hardly think you’re in a position to threaten me, Ms. Belch.”

“Surely you have some plans for me, then.”

“Impressive. I didn’t think you knew who I am...”

Her voice trails off as I try to hide my confusion. Of course! This must be Shirley Worley, my primary mark in this investigation. I clear my throat. “So you still haven’t told me what you’re going to do with me, Miss Worley.”

“Now why would I tell you something like that? You don’t honestly think I’m just a common criminal, out to make things easier on your readers for the sake of helping the plot to progress? I don’t think so...”

“Oh, come on! This story has an arbitrary five thousand word limit! Please, Miss Worley! Be reasonable!”

“By my count, you haven’t even hit seven hundred fifty words. You’ve got plenty of time to figure it out. But you’ll never thwart me! Ha ha ha ha ha!”

Again, that laugh sounds more like she’s saying the words “ha ha ha ha ha” than actually laughing. When I get out of this, I’m going to have a few words with the author of this story.

She slowly backs away from me, never once breaking eye contact. She snaps her fingers and a moment later, two of her fembot goons step out from behind me and join her. The blonde is carrying a large metallic bowl and the brunette is carrying a long swath of bandages.

Shirley reaches into her ample cleavage and pulls out a small black device.

I squint to get a better look at it. “Is that a remote? What’s it do?”

Without saying a word, she makes a grandiose gesture and pushes a button on the device. I feel something within the Fucking Chair™ rising, lifting my ass about four inches off of the cushion I was until just recently sitting on. Both of my questions have now been answered.

She looks at the blonde fembot and snaps her fingers. In response, the girl puts the bowl on the floor in front of me. As best as I can tell, the bowl’s got a mixture of applesauce, cookie dough, and K-Y Jelly in it.

The fembot grabs a glob out of the bowl and begins to smear it over my tits. It feels ... I’m not sure I can explain how it feels. I mean, there’s a chill to it that excites my senses, but my nipples were already hard so I don’t know if I’m enjoying the strength of her hands or the goo itself. Because of where my ass and hands are, I can’t really stop her. Not that I’d want to right now.

I am feeling a little bit of a surge in my crotch, bringing me back up to where I was before Shirley turned it off. It completely didn’t surprise me when the fembot began to rub that stuff on my pussy and clit. This explains why my ass has been lifted off of the Fucking Chair™.

“Are you going to tell me what this is?” I ask my captor, hoping that either she or one of the fembots will respond.

The fembots ignore me but Shirley says, “Nope,” in an all-too-matter-of-fact tone. She snaps her fingers again and the other fembot begins to wrap the bandages around my chest and hips.

Again, even though I don’t know the exact purpose of this stuff, it’s far too predictable. Does this author really think he can follow in the footsteps of the late, great Sara Castle?

I can feel the mixture hardening on my skin, my nipples, my pussy. It’s a strange feeling. Sensual, yes. Erotic only because of where it is. It’s definitely not painful. The two fembots together carefully remove the bandages and then the mold that has clearly been made in the shape of, well, me. Or at least my favorite parts of me. My thoughts suddenly turn to gelatin and I wonder if any of my colleagues would appreciate a pair of strawberry-flavored Carmine Belch tits. With or without embedded bananas.

By now I realize that it’s pointless to keep asking questions but I will anyway. “So what’re you going to do with that? You trying to recreate the mold they broke after I was born?”

“You can forget the cliches, Carmine. You know Sara Castle would never have written you a line like that...”

I sigh and realize she’s right as I watch her saunter out of my line of sight. The two fembots place the molds on the floor and back away.

A few moments later, Shirley reappears with a large pitcher of some sort. Before I can say or do anything, she pours the silvery contents of the pitcher into the two pieces of hardened ceramic that now lie on the floor in front of me.

“So you’re making a metal copy of my most personal parts, Shirley? Are you trying to make a fembot of me or something?”

She looks up at me and smiles. “What have you found out as a part of your investigation?”

I laugh. I know well enough not to show all my proverbial cards here. But there’s no harm in saying something if it’ll get her to start talking. “I’ve found that your prosthetics factory might have some, um, parts that might not really work as they’re supposed to...”

“Oh, I think they do exactly as they’re supposed to.” She walks over to her two fembots and runs her fingers first through the blonde’s hair and then through the brunette’s. I think that, for a brief moment, I see a vestige of the humanity in the brunette’s eyes. This confirms what I’d already suspected: these two bots are two of the missing women I’d learned about when I first took on this case.

I take a deep breath. “Really now? Are you telling me that when these girls came to you and your company to make them stronger, that they wanted to be your robotic servants?”

“Well, if you put it that way….” She pauses for a minute before smiling broadly and saying, “Yes!”

This is one of those times when, if my hands weren’t tied behind my back, I’d be putting them on my hips defiantly. I think of my assistant, Stephanie. She’s been transformed mostly into a robot but she still has use of her brain and girl-parts. And that’s as far as she was ever willing to go. I’ve never known anyone to go beyond that. And here’s two young women who did. “I don’t believe you.”

“Of course you don’t. That’s why you’re investigating me. But let me explain my position. But first, I think my copy of your tits and your pussy’s about complete.” She lifts her hands above her head and claps her hands twice. The brunette steps forward and retrieves a thin metallic copy of my tits, complete with all the bumps around my stiff nipples. It looks like an epileptic tried to write in braille. The thinness of the sheet sways in the light breeze created by her movement back towards Shirley and the other fembot, giving it a bizarre image, like my tits were some kind of a flag or something.

Shirley keeps talking as the brunette adheres my boobs over the blonde’s chest. “You see these two girls, they came to me looking for new legs, stronger legs than the ones they had. There was nothing wrong with their older legs, they just wanted new ones. So I gave them what they wanted.”

The blonde starts stroking her new breasts. My breasts. It’s erotic and sensual and lustful and I can swear I feel it in my own chest.

Shirley goes on. “I confess that I was starting to feel guilty about taking away that little bit of humanity of my customers. I was about to reveal this to them when they returned, asking me to replace their arms as well.”

I start to lose my ability to focus on what Shirley’s talking about. By now I’m almost certain that the mold of my tits somehow has a connection to my real tits. I can feel a surge of electricity flowing from both fembots’ hands: strong, powerful, and a little bit rough. Through connections I don’t fully understand, it radiates through and around my own body.

I shake my head and attempt to refocus on what Shirley is saying. “…so by now I’d basically replaced their entire bodies except for their heads. And I told them that if I replaced anything more, they’d lose all their humanity. There’d be nothing left of them but mindless robots. Heather here—that’s the brunette, even though she wouldn’t know her own name anymore—giggled and said, ‘That’s what I want!’ Rosie here said something like that too.” Shirley scoffs as she gestures to the blonde. “Kids these days!”

Heather stops playing with the copy of my tits on Rosie’s body and goes back to the other mold that had been made from my body. When she extricates it out of its mold, lifting it high in the air, I marvel at the detail. Is my clit really that puffy and course in texture? It flaps in the air in much the same way as the copy of my nipples did, so I watch with some degree of interest as Heather adheres my girl-parts onto the Rosie’s heretofore featureless crotch. Heather then kneels down and begins to act like a real lapdog. The sensation is quick and instantaneous. I bite my lip to try to keep myself from passing out from the sensation.

As I will myself not to give in to my ever-growing needs, I take a deep breath, squint my eyes, and try to move my knees a little closer together in hopes of suppressing my arousal. “So is that what you’re going to do with me? Turn me into a mindless robot?”

“You, oh, no, Carmine Belch! Not you… I’m testing out a new invention of mine. Do you like it? I call it telegenitalia…”

I bite my lip and moan my approval.

“So does this mean you’re going to set me free, then?”

“Not until I’m sure you’re not going to turn me over to the cops.” She snaps her fingers and Heather stops licking Rosie’s crotch, with the copy of my pussy over it.

I can’t help but whimper a little bit.

“In case you haven’t guessed, I’m holding your ultimate pleasure hostage until you promise me that you won’t turn me over to the cops who hired you. Agree to do that, and not only will Heather go back to what she was doing a minute ago, and then, after she’s done, you get to go home with your own teletits and telepussy.”

I’ve got to admit, it’s tempting. Heather walks over to me and pinches my real nipples. I begin to wonder if there’s some kind of loophole to this.

“If you’re trying to think of a way you can make that promise and then somehow reneg on it, keep in mind that I’ve got a pretty large army of robots right now. And if something happens to me, it would be really easy for them to go to your office or to your home and turn you into one of them. You don’t want to try that.”

“And if I don’t agree to your terms?”

“Well, then I keep these copies of your tits and your cunt. And I could very easily arouse you any time I might want, and then leave you hanging…”

“You’re evil, you know that?”

“Oh, I don’t know that I’m so much evil as I am … resourceful.”

I let out a big sigh and say, “Fine. I promise.”

“Excellent.” She snaps her fingers and Heather goes back to the metallic copy of my nether-regions. My heart starts to beat faster so I adjust my ass slightly on the Fucking Chair™.

Shirley unbinds my ankles from the chair. “You can stand up if you want.”

I consider it but decide against standing up. I’m just feeling too good. I’m just too close to an orgasm. Too fucking close.

“All right everyone! Freeze!” I hear a few cops kicking down the door behind me as they rush in.

Fuck! Couldn’t they have waited two more minutes? Just two short minutes and I’d have been golden. I take a deep breath and ask, “What’re you guys doing here?”

“You probably didn’t know this, Miss Belch, but when we hired you, we put a tracking device in your skin. When I shook your hand.”

“Yeah?”

“And we know you have a hard time sleeping or even holding still for too long. So the fact that the tracking device didn’t move for more than five hours was enough to make us a little concerned. We found your clothes outside this room if you want to put them on.” He throws my clothes at my feet and makes a point of diverting his eyes so he doesn’t see my naked body.

“Wait? Are you saying that I was asleep for more than five hours?”

Shirley nods her head yes as I feel a member of his team untying the bindings around my wrists. I play with my tits a little bit before I put my clothes back on.

“How’d you to that?”

“A girl’s got to have some secrets. Wouldn’t you agree, Carmine?” One of the cops puts her in handcuffs and leads her out the door. The two robot girls follow their mistress.

The chief looks at me after I’m fully dressed and says, “We can debrief you later. I’m assuming you got some good intel on Shirley Worley?”

“Yes, sir!” I say it with more enthusiasm than I’m really feeling. Still, I don’t think I could ever turn down a good debriefing.

“Is there anything else you need right now?”

“Um… Could I have some of that silver stuff and the molds?”

“I don’t see why not. Does it have any real value as evidence?”

“Not really,” I say. “After all, the blonde robot has her own copy of the same stuff.”

He leads me out the door and back to the parking lot, where he thanks me for all of my help. “And to think, you really did all this in less than 3000 words. A full two thousand less than your limit. Impressive. Most impressive.”

Yes, I think. it is impressive. Here’s hoping the author thinks he did justice to Sara Castle.