The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Let me tell you dear reader. Having finer control of the time was a game changer!

Unfortunately, it only worked in 6 hour increments, but with a little tinkering I was pretty sure I could do any increment of 6 hours. There were still limits—if my guinea pig tests scaled at all like my human testing, the maximum I could now do was somewhere in the realm of 66 hours. I didn’t want to push the limits though, so I just used it to reliably get one night a week free from Ariel’s clinginess.

I was trying to work on a few features on my device, but even with all the extra time to work, I was kind of stalling. It turned out suppressing memories permanently, and adding new memories was a tougher egg to crack than I thought.

I think my favorite thing about all this, besides all of the time I had for my little hobby was the way Ariel acted when she bounced back. It was like being deprived of me, and then suddenly remembering what we meant for each other was bringing a passion to our relationship that I hadn’t seen since its early days. After three months, in spite of her emotional neediness, I had noticed that some of the early relationship passion and energy had been starting to wane. Sure, we had been having sex nearly every night, but I got the sense that Ariel just had a stronger than average sex drive, and at a certain point it was less about intimacy and more about scratching and itch.

But after I introduced the device! I have some hypotheses on why it might be—my biggest one being that my device was actually somehow suppressing the chemicals in her brain associated with love and attraction, and when they suddenly came flooding back it was like her body and mind where physically back in “passionate initial love mode” even if her memories were that of a slightly more mature relationship.

Either way, all I can say is that our sex after her memories came back became an amazing highlight. In fact, and I feel a little guilty admitting it, I started making her forget sometimes when I didn’t need time to work, or go for a night out with the guys. What can I say, I would get horny sometimes, and the thought of sex with her after the memories came flooding back would always get me going. I’d make her forget, barely concealing my arousal, then just close the door imaging what lay ahead for me in 6 hours.

God, it was tough getting so worked up for that long. I admit that I lost a little bit of self control once and tried coming on to her a bit early. That hadn’t been well received at all.

It’s possible I’m coming on a little too strong.

“What are you doing?” she said, taking a step backwards.

I was so hard. She’d be “ready” in half an hour, but I wanted her right there and now. God, I was so horny.

“You need to take a cold shower or something,” she said. “I’m going out. We can discuss this later.”

She grabbed her bag, gave me a look of disgust, and left.

I was alone in our apartment, frustrated and waiting for sex that would never come. I resigned myself to looking up some of her shoots. Ariel didn’t do porn, but some of her swimsuit pictures were so sexy, it hardly mattered what you couldn’t see. I pulled up one I had always liked, and tried to summon up the memories of what it was like when she remembered me again. Fuck, the fantasies didn’t hold a candle to the real thing, but they were something.

Afterwards, sitting there with my hand on my spent cock, I had a moment of clarity. I felt ashamed. Could I really not control myself for six hours?

The even more surprising thing. Half an hour had passed, Ariel should have been back by now. She should have been back by now. I looked at my phone, and there was no text from her. I considered calling, but I decided to give it time.

In the morning, Ariel still hadn’t come back.

Now I was truly worried. I called her.

“Babe,” she said. I could her a conflicted sound in her voice. “I didn’t like last night at all. Please never do something like that, you really scared me.”

Shit. No wonder she hadn’t come back. I had scared her, and that memory didn’t go away after her memories came back.

“I’m so sorry!” I said. I meant it too. Fuck, I was supposed to be healing her, and then I sexually harass her and try and insist she have sex with me. “Please come back home, I want to talk this out with you.”

When she came back, I could tell there was an awkwardness in the air. Something was different. She still cared deeply about me, I could tell that much. But there was a wariness in her eyes—a question. Is this going to go the same way it did with all the other guys?

We spoke for a bit, and came to an accord. We made up, but it ended with a hug, and then she was off to work.

I couldn’t think about anything else the rest of the day. When we both were finally home, I asked her if she’d help me with calibrating my machine.

“Why does you fucking machine need so much calibration anyways?” she snapped at me. “Can you just let it rest for a night?”

I didn’t bring the machine up for another day or two. In that time, I decided I needed to fix things.

The trust was gone. Things weren’t the way they were before.

When I finally felt safe bringing it up, I asked Ariel in the morning whether she’d be okay with helping me calibrate my machine again.

When she was in the harness, I knew what memories I wanted to suppress. I typed in my arcane programming language the equivalent of:

FORGET The night I made you feel uncomfortable and unsafe.

FORGET The awkwardness and uncertainty of the week following that night.

MOOD Feeling safe, and loved

DURATION 30 hours

When the calibration was done, Ariel went from wary and tired to her usual bubbly self. She looked at me with adoring eyes.

“Is that all you need?” she said. “I’m happy to do anything for you, babe!”

I sighed. It was fixed. At least for now. The old love, and trust was back, but I knew I couldn’t just keep using the device on her every day to refresh the memory suppression. I needed to figure out how to delete memories permanently, to fix my mistake.

The device was like magic. Our relationship was exactly where it had been. Ariel was her usual clingy self, and when I went to work, she texted me practically every hour asking how I was doing and where I was. I felt so relieved.

I treasured my time together with her the week after that. Every morning it was the same routine—I’d ask her if she wanted to help me, and I’d suppress the bad memories between us for 30 hours. Sure, my resentment at her constant nagging was starting to grow, but the week of awkwardness had made this all so much preferable.

I didn’t start wanting to suppress her clinginess until three weeks later. I had brought her out for a night with the guys, and they had gently ribbed me for being whipped. Not that they seemed to mind—most of them would have killed for a girl like Ariel.

But one of the guys had invited his sister who was in town. And it was like Ariel had it out for the poor girl.

I saw her staring daggers at her the whole time, cutting me off when I tried to talk to her, and when we both happened to get up at the same time (me to go to the restroom, and Aaron’s sister to try out the jukebox), Ariel had made an excuse and stalk the girl. I really hoped Aaron’s sister couldn’t tell that someone was watching her every move. Ariel might have trusted me, but she was so scared of being cheated on that any girl was a threat.

When I got back, the atmosphere at the table was tense. Ariel tended to mess with the vibes when she was around, but tonight was the first time guy’s night had included another woman, and it was terrible.

When we got in the car, I wanted to confront Ariel. To tell her that wasn’t okay, but I didn’t want to burden her further. She had been through a lot, and she needed time to heal. But no, I had to say something.

“Ariel, you really didn’t have to be so mean to Aaron’s sister. I’d never do anything with her!” I said.

“I, I know that,” she said, hanging her head in shame. “It’s just, I’ve been getting these headaches lately, and usually an aspirin is enough to deal with the worst of it, but then she was there and my headache was really bad, and I had such a hard time not just yelling at her to shut up. I held back as much as I could tonight.”

I was barely listening to her. All I got was that she was making excuses. She didn’t get to treat every girl in my orbit like a pariah!

I resolved to start suppressing her clinginess once more.

My routine became suppressing that one bad night and its aftermath in the mornings, and on nights I needed time to work on the device or hang out with buddies I would suppress her clinginess in the evenings. I knew better now than to use it purely for sexual gratification now—the once or twice a night was good enough.

One night, I came back, expecting Ariel to be back from her girl’s night out and ready to make sweet sweet I-remember-you-again love. But I found the appartment dark when I got back.

“Ariel?” I said tentatively.

“I’m in here,” she called weakly.

I found her in the bedroom with the lights off, and I could tell in the dark she had a bag of ice on her head.

“You okay?” I asked.

She looked very tired. Even reacting to me took a great effort.

“Migraine,” she said. “My headaches are getting worse. Had to. cancel. with Sally.”

My eyes widened. I realized how stupid I was. She had been mentioning the headaches before, but I had never made connection.

I felt like an idiot for not seeing it! The device. Of course using the device on her was having side effects—I was using it on her every single day, and twice on some days!

I had to stop cold turkey. Starting tomorrow, I would have to finally let her remember that bad night.

Maybe I should have guessed it would happen. If forgetting about me for a few hours made her love all the more passionate, imagine how intense the feelings of pain, betrayal, awkwardness and uncertainty would be after two months of suppressing those memories.

When I woke up, Ariel was gone. There was a note on the table, telling me she needed some time away from me. She said she still loved me, but she had to think about some things.

I tried calling her, but I could only get her voice mail.

I was alone, and it was all my fault.

She didn’t come back that evening. Or the next day. Or the day after that.

Eventually, I decided to work on the guinea pigs. I didn’t have any particular goal in mind. I just needed something to distract me. I needed to think about how to apologize to her, to make things right again.

At the very least, I could tell she was still working. Her social media had new pictures of her modelling every day—though she seemed a bit distracted in the photos. If the constant stream of pictures was anything to go by, she wasn’t taking breaks for headaches and migraines anymore, so that was something at least.

After a week, she finally answered the phone.

“I’m really sorry, babe,” she said. “I don’t know what it was, but the last week I couldn’t stop thinking about that night. I even had nightmares about it. But... I think I’m over it now. I’m sorry for being so irrational, I know you’d never do anything to hurt me. I realized I was screwing up the one good thing I had.” She started sobbing.

I knew then that I’d have to come clean. It didn’t matter that she’d probably break up with me. She deserved to know. But I couldn’t just tell her there.

“I’ve missed you,” I said, after I had comforted her through her tears. “I have something I need to tell you, but I think it’s best if we do it in person.”

“Tomorrow,” Ariel said. “I’m still so confused, and hurt. I don’t know what’s happening to me. I feel like I’m going crazy.”

We said our goodbyes, and looked back down at the guinea pigs at the table in front of me. I was in the middle of some experiments with new features, but I didn’t have a lot of faith. The brain was complex, and it was a miracle that I had managed to squeeze the functionality I had out of the device.

But then I noticed something I hadn’t before in one of the guinea pig brain scans. No. No way!

How had I not seen it? I worked frantically after that, modifying the device and coding up some new things. If this actually worked, I would be able to suppress memories permanently!

It was 2 AM when I finally collapsed into bed exhausted.

When I woke up, the sun roused me. I realized what I had done.

Ariel’s headaches could be a thing of the past. I could do more than suppress memories—if I targeted them, I could zap them away for good!

I remembered my resolution to tell Ariel everything from the day before. I probably still should do that, but I hadn’t known I would have a breakthrough like this!

When she came back at 11, I was giddy. I had the solution to everything. I could erase the bad memories from my little mistake, and Ariel wouldn’t have to hurt anymore. It would be like the last week, and that little incident and the week following it would be no more!

Plus, I’d be able to test my new feature on Ariel. It was perfect.

“What was it you wanted to tell me?” Ariel asked.

I smiled at her. “I made a major breakthrough with the device. Come over here, I’ll show you!”

Ariel seemed a little thrown off by that announcement. “Oh, is that all. I just thought...” but she followed me into my lab.

“Here, sit down,” I said.

Ariel nodded. Her face was a little inscrutable, but she seemed willing to do this for me. No matter—soon it would all be fixed.

I put the helmet on her head, and typed up the new commands:

FORGET The night I made advances on you.

FORGET The week that followed.

FORGET The headaches and migraines you’ve been having.

FORGET The last week.

DURATION Permanent

I realized I was thinking too small. I could fix all the pain that Ariel had. I could make everything better—then maybe she wouldn’t be so clingy. I went back, and added one more line.

FORGET All your trauma and bad memories from your past boyfriends.

I pressed the button, and watched her eyes flutter and a faraway look play across her face. When it was done, she looked around the room strangely.

“Uh, where am I?” she said. “Who are you?” She took the helmet off of her head and looked around.

My heart sank. No, no way. This couldn’t be-

“Stop playing around,” I said. “You remember me, right? Your boyfriend?”

She looked at me strangely. “Why would I ever date a guy like you. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you seem nice enough, but you’re not exactly my type.”

No, no, no. I had made the duration permanent, everything I had just erased was going to be gone for good. It wasn’t just being suppressed, the neurons and synapses no longer existed for those memories. How had I deleted our time together—there was no way!

“No, look,” I said. I pulled out my phone, and started showing her pictures of our time together. “Please remember. You have to remember!”

“Oh my gosh, are you some sort of stalker?” she said. “I, I need to get out of here.” She started moving toward the door.

“No, I’m not a stalker. We live together, I’m your boyfriend.”

But she was bolting quickly away. She grabbed her purse, and left. I tried to chase her out, but she was already in her car. She honked at me to get out of the way, and left me alone in the parking lot, watching her leave.

I heard from Sally that Ariel got back together with her last boyfriend, Charles. Apparently, she couldn’t remember why she had ever stopped dating him in the first place.

The bed has been lonely without her. When the lease ends, I’ll have to move into a smaller apartment, without Ariel to pay her half of rent.

I’ve tried to move on. Tried online dating, but I think every girl I’ve actually had a date with can tell my heart still belongs to someone else. I don’t think I’ll ever get anyone as special as Ariel.

I figured out what went wrong with the permanent erasure. It’s a little complicated, but I realized in subsequent tests with guinea pigs that when you’re plucking neurons and synapses it’s never an exact science. I’m lucky our time together seems to be all she forgot—some of my guinea pigs weren’t so lucky.

I love Ariel’s pictures recently. I follow her on every social media, and I buy all her magazines. She’s been catching a lot of positive attention. I get why, she seems so happy and carefree in her pictures. There’s a joy and verve to her photos that just wasn’t there before. I’ve definitely spent far to much time masturbating to her most skimpy photos, remembering out time together.

I feel like a ghost. Time is passing, and it’s all a blur.

After a few months, her pictures started to lose their shine again. I could only guess what was happening. Her Facebook still lists her as being in a relationship with Charles. I try to resist the urge to follow gossip, but I can’t resist. Sure enough, I manage to find out that things have been going really bad for her and Charles. He cheated on her, just like last time. There’s rumors he’s doing worse as well. I know all the stories of her first time with the jerk, so I can believe the rumors.

When her Facebook relationship status changes, I feel so ghoulish for my first thought. I’m like a vulture, but I know this is my chance. Sure, she doesn’t have the pain of dozens of failed relationships, but maybe one is enough for her to consider taking me back.

I try not to think of how many times she must have shared a bed with Charles. Fucking him. Still not remembering me at all. What we once meant to each other.

I try to arrange for a similar meeting to our first one. I’ve been keeping tabs on her, so I go to a coffee shop she frequents, and try to arrange a first meeting just like our original first meeting. She doesn’t spill coffee on me, but when I strike up a conversation, she seems like she’s looking for someone to vent to. I sit and listen to her relationship woes. I’ve heard it all before. This time, it’s my fault.

But she finds it therapeutic, and says she’d love to talk to me again sometime. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to remember me as the guy who seemingly kidnapped her and took her to a strange apartment. We have a few more good dates, and I have to hold myself back. The woman I love is right there, and I can’t hug her, and tell her I love her. I can’t make love to her like we used to.

We finally sleep together. A part of me is hoping for something like last time. Will she become obsessed with me?

But instead, she ghosts me. I don’t know what’s happening. I have already taken the liberty of setting up her GPS from her phone to be sent to me on one our dates when she went to the bathroom, so I see where she’s going.

It’s a different night club every night. I finally get up the courage to go there, and I see her dancing with a guy. They leave the club together. It’s the same story every night. My loneliness deepens. Ariel didn’t become attached to me after our time together. Instead, she’s learned a different lesson. She loves sex.

I feel like a vampire. I don’t even go into the office these days—I’m all remote, though my boss is starting to get on my case about this. Screw him, I can barely keep it together. I masturbate to Ariel’s photos every night.

I dream of her.

Sometimes I can’t get the image of fucking other guys out of my head. Eventually, I reach the inevitable conclusion. I need to forget about her. It’s doing me no good.

In a low moment, I type into the machine:

FORGET About your love for Ariel.

DURATION Permanent

I press enter.

I look around my dingy apartment, barely believing how much time has passed when I see the clock. What have I been doing? I pull the strange helmet off of my head. It seems to be connected to a strange-looking machine.

I walk up, and see lines of strange code that I don’t recognize. What is up with this machine? I look over at all the guinea pigs. I don’t know why I have them.

I shake off the strangeness, and boot up my work laptop. I realize with horror that all the code I was working on looks like gibberish. I used to know it all like the back of my hand. How did I forget everything? I try googling, but I give up after I realize just how screwed I really am.

I take a sudden vacation from work, but I’m not able to relearn all the stuff I’ve forgotten. It’s not long before I lose my job. I have to break my lease early and move back into my parents. I’m so lonely, I masturbate to porn every day. I feel so empty and pathetic—I don’t know what’s happening to me.

Then I see the latest Sports Illustrated. There’s a girl who looks sort of familiar on the cover.

I buy the magazine and drive home with it. I learn her name—Ariel. Something about her is so much better than the porn I used to consume.

I start a folder on my computer devoted to her. I use Photoshop to create fake nude images of her. Soon, the basement of my parents house where I live becomes a shrine to Ariel. I’m obsessed.

I really think I’m happy. Sure, I’m flipping burgers downtown after mysteriously forgetting how to do my job any more. Sure, I’m a lonely virgin at 28. But I have all my posters of Ariel. I can’t program anymore, but I’ve been paying all my spare money to a guy in China who offered to make a VR experience with Ariel. I can’t wait for it to be done.

Imagine. Me fucking Ariel. It’s a fantasy—she’d never date a guy like me, she’d probably be disgusted if she ever met me. But no matter, I’m looking forward to it. Maybe I’ll meet her some day. I want her to know who her biggest fan is.

After all, how could she be happy without me?