The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Cameron’s hand zipped erratically as he moused out of his work. Closing quickly on late, he quit—rather, exited—his open programs and, shutting down, grabbed his paper as the last of its pages whirred from the printer. He flew out of the university computer lab and, avoiding the overcrowded elevators, ran two flights up to walk into his classroom just as the professor was closing the door. Stapling his paper, he dropped it onto the stack and plopped into his seat.

There has to be a better way, he thought. He’d just written a fifth iteration of the same paper he’d written for various classes over the past ten years: why the Mac is superior to the PC. Ever since third grade, he’d spent too much time exceeding length limits describing the superiority of Apple’s baby over the pseudocomputers that run command-line-based OSes. He’d used Macs for as long as he’d like to remember, and rarely had they let him down.

But, these days, he was using more and more of his anathema just because he didn’t have a working printer anymore, and the school PCs hated Mac file formats. Oh, he could convert his work, but with his typing speed, he’d rather just endure the horrible raised dots under his index fingers than spend more time convincing PCs that text was text.

And, he thought, I guess I can handle using them. The interface is counterintutive, but I’ve learned it. Even the porn is tolerable through the lower average white point.

His thoughts drifted until the end of his class.

Seating himself in front of a beige PowerPC, so upgraded and overconnected that Frankenstein would blush, Cam opened his Gnutella client. He’d coded his own and had used it over all the others his Mac friends had tried to foist off on him. In fact, he had something of a reputation among the CompSci majors (of which he was not one) for coding Mac programs that put existing PC programs to shame. He wasn’t professional by any means, but if he spent some time, he might be.

He checked through his downloads for the day. Silently thanking the powers that be for the university’s T1 connection, his eyes found something that he hated to see among his usual downloads of music and pirated software: a “.exe” file extension. Grimacing, he moused over to the PC-only application, he sneered. “Executable to be executed,” he said as he dragged it to the Trash.

But the name of this program file caught his eye. He command-opened the Trash to read it’s name again. “Master PC,” it read. Sounds like something like Virtual PC. He checked it’s download time... 101 minutes. The Get Info on it gave it a filesize of several hundred megs. Cameron shrugged. If it took so long to download and took up so much space, he might as well try it out.

Apple menu, Recent Applications, Virtual PC. As the emulator of a shell opened, he wondered what Master PC might be. Some sort of S&M sex game? Those were always hilarious—especially the dialogue. Then he made the connection:

Cameron had recently written an alpha version of his PC-to-Mac converter program, meant to do all the difficult work of turning PC versions of applications (mainly games) into working Mac versions. Of course, some human editing would still have to be done (replacing keyboard and mouse maps, fixing menu items, etc.), but the converter would make a log of these needed changes. With a program this big, thought Cameron, I could test my converter without worrying about corrupting what I’m converting. A smile crept across his face.

But first, he thought, I have to see the program work.

Half an hour later, Cameron’s bedsheets had changed color three times, the people on his “Think Different” posters had lost all their clothes, and Cameron himself finally understood what Master PC could do. It had meant to take up his entire hard drive, but had only filled the Virtual PC’s drive image, so the contents of his Mac were untouched. Cameron had himself on the screen and was preparing to make some physical changes when he stopped.

“Why not?” he said, saving the state and shutting down Virtual PC. He grabbed a blank CD-R disc and popped it into one of his recording drives. As it spun, he paced, thought, and smiled.

Ten minutes later, the CD tray slid out and he labeled the newly-burned CD “Before.” Then, resisting the urge to go right back into Virtual PC, Cameron dragged the Master PC executable onto his converter program. Crossing his fingers, he dropped.

The converter opened and gave him a progress bar. After a few seconds, the bar began to move and a countdown timer started. The converter’s graphics were pretty awful, but Cameron reassured himself that this was just the alpha and that bugs came before beauty. The countdown read fifteen minutes, but jumped between twenty and eight. So much for bugs, he thought.

At the end of the conversion, his own program reported... no problems! “What the...” Cameron muttered, diving into the log file. No matter how easy the conversion, there should at least be some glitches. But the log file was almost completely blank, containing nothing but a “:).”

Even more puzzled, Cameron became anxious to see how his converted Master PC would work. However, his caution overcame his curiosity and he copied the much-smaller converted file onto a Zip disk. Thankfully, it fit.

He inserted the Zip disk into the drive of an ancient Quadra that he had running in the corner because he liked the old AfterDark screensaver. He copied the Master PC file from the Zip disk and replaced it with the few files he thought he might need from the Quadra. Just before he ran his new program, he whimsically renamed it. “Master Mac,” he said, laughing. It sounded like an S&M program for sure. Still laughing, he doubleclicked.

The screen went black. Cameron let out a sigh and reached for the familiar Control-Command-Power combination that would restart the Quadra. Instead, the screen relit with text. Cameron was so surprised that he gasped.

“Welcome to Master Mac!” the screen said. “Your platform choice has made you cool, so Master Mac will make you powerful! Long live Apple, long live the Mac!” Then the screen blanked, the mouse became a wristwatch, and Cameron caught his breath. When the next screen appeared, he lost it again.

It had to have been the nature of Master PC... er, Master Mac that had changed itself so completely, as his converter program couldn’t have reconfigured the interface so well. Master Mac looked Mac native, without a trace of it’s PC origin. Upon Cameron’s further inspection, he couldn’t find any references to anything remotely PC, not even an ALT key. In fact, the help files had Mac-only features and there was even a set of modules for Balloon Help. Quirking a smile at this, Cameron turned the Balloon Help function on and, within minutes more of browsing, had figured out enough of Master Mac that he wouldn’t need to look at the help files themselves unless he had an in-depth question. This was terrific!

“Well,” he said finally, “I guess I know what I’ll be using the Quadra for.” He immediately set to work, and at the end of the half-hour, all his machines had been defragmented, optimized, upgraded, and tuned in ways he never would have been able to do by hand. His converter program was a full version 1.0 that would do as good a job on any other PC program as it had on Master Mac. His box of blank CD-Rs would never, if left to itself, run low on blank media, and his storage drives and RAM would never, unless carefully inspected, completely fill to capacity.

Cameron was in the process of adding dozens of extra Firewire 800 ports when he realized that he had spent his first real use of the godlike power of Master Mac on his Macs. “I guess I know what I really care about,” he chuckled. Then he pulled himself up on the Quadra (though not before increasing it’s monitor size to 36 inches).

He was a sight. Pasty, flabby, unkempt, bespectacled... all the physical symptoms of the disease killing so many college kids: geek. Looking at his vitals, he was amazed he’d been able to run up those stairs earlier today. He set to work, ridding himself of genetic and sleeper complications, dropping some tonnage, increasing muscle tone, improving vision and hearing, adding a few inches of height, and generally doing what most users do upon receipt of Master PC.

Then he started to worry. If he had downloaded Master PC from Gnutella, it stood to reason that others had the program, and it wasn’t too paranoid to assume that, some day, he’d run into another user. He checked the Master Mac help files.

“I’m glad you asked,” read the file, amiably. “There are two important factors to recognize. The first is that Master Mac, unlike Master PC, has a special attribute that is part of it’s user-friendly interface, working under the codename Don’tScrewTheUser, or DSTU. DSTU automatically converts any commands inputted by the user into code that fulfill the user’s intent, regardless of any holes in programming on the user’s part. Thus, should a user enter “no man can harm me,” Master Mac will also protect the user against women, the user’s intent being recognized and implemented.”

“Great!” said Cameron. “What’s the second factor?”

“Second,” read the file, “is that, just as Macs can read PC disks but the reverse is not generally true, Master Mac may be used against Master PC but Master PC cannot be used against Master Mac... although upgrades are promised.” After that, only laughter was printed, with a winking Mac face.

Reassured, Cameron continued with his self-alterations and, occasionally checking them in the mirror, discovered that he was pleased with his new self. Saving the old him as a backup and the new him as a second, he focused on the only part of himself he had yet to change: his sexuality.

Cameron had done his fair share of reading and watching and guessing and joking about sex but, as many would assume upon seeing him, had never actually participated. Well, there was one time when he was eight, but he didn’t think that playing doctor counted... probably. Anyway, he decided to be ambitious. After all, he could always change it again, right?

He decided to start with orientation. Having an open mind, he slid his slider bars to zero percent undecided and one hundred percent bisexual. Applying this change, he felt vaguely less uncertain about himself and substantially more confident. He didn’t know the reason for this extra feeling, but he guessed it was because he’d lost some of his self-doubt about his sexuality. Before, he didn’t really care for boy-boy relations, but now he had a choice, and while he’d left his preference bar much closer to heterosexual, he could engage with boys if the fancy struck him. Good to be flexible.

Next, he went on to the basics. He gave himself full control of his erection, lost the slight curvature of his penis, and decided to increase his dimensions to eighteen inches long and four inches thick. He realized that this was incredible, but coded a stipulation that his erectile control would allow him to reach any combination of smaller dimensions with no loss of turgidity. That, along with a command to never suffer from loss of blood regardless of his state of erection, gave him the ability to choose the length and girth of his erections based on the situation.

Also, it was just kind of cool to see his cock that big. Maybe he could scare some girls with it.

Next, he gave himself sexual stamina to match the overall endurance he’d given himself earlier. He could, with occasional water breaks, now last for close to twenty-four hours. On top of that, he gave himself control over his orgasm, allowing himself to postpone or trigger it, as well as to control its length.

Then he added control over his ejaculation, with which he went a little overboard. He gave himself mental control over it’s volume, viscosity, pH, taste, flavor, sperm count, addictiveness, color, luminescence, and ease of clean-up.

Finally, he decided to play a little. He caused his skin to secrete a barely-noticeable pheromone that would case anyone within ten feet to become more friendly toward him. At will, he could cause this pheromone, still undetectable, to cause him to seem irresistible to any one person he chose. He could also, with another mental command, cause this pheromone to heighten a person to whom he seemed irresistible to ride the edge of an extremely massive orgasm, cumming immediately at his touch. That seemed like fun.

Next, he decided to give himself the hand power he’d always wanted. When he spoke to someone while touching a part of them with his hands (even through fabric as thick as leather), he could cause that part of them to grow or shrink to any proportion he chose and the person would not think it strange. Once he left their presence, the changed body part would slowly return to normal, the person none the wiser. He already had in mind some girls on whom he’d like to used this power.

Last, he made himself an amazing kisser. He blushed furiously as he coded this because it was his most secret wish. He’d always worried that, while he could learn everything else perfectly, he would always disappoint his lover in the kissing department. Cameron didn’t know from where this fear came, but all the other things he’d given himself had never mattered as much to him as his kissing ability. He was tempted to look at his kissing aptitude before changing it, but couldn’t bring himself to. He was content at being great.

Sheepish and happy, he climbed into bed and slept...

... only to awaken in the middle of the night laying on something. He looked down and found that he had wood. Huge wood. Tree limb wood.

He thought for a moment and remembered all that had happened. He used his erectile control and his cock immediately shrunk. Happy again because of his remembered power, he hopped out of bed. Apparently, his new body only required a few hours of sleep, as he was wide awake. He decided to grab a shower.

As he soaped himself under the hot water, Cameron admired the new him. His chest was chiseled, his abdomen was rock-hard, his arms and legs were both muscled and smooth at the same time. He couldn’t tell if his body was meant for a bodybuilder or for an Olympic athlete, but he felt ready for anything. He rinsed the shampoo from his hair, no longer perpetually greasy, and he washed the soap from his face, his stubble falling off in the only form of shaving he’d ever need to do again. He could do the same with the rest of the hairs on his body, but decided that he liked the fine, short hairs covering himself. They made him feel manly, such a change from the fat, ugly man-boy he’d been.

After the shower, he toweled himself off in front of the mirror. Maybe it was his new bisexuality, maybe it was the male fixation on penises, maybe it was narcissism, and maybe it was just because it was there, but his eyes would keep wandering back to his new tool. As a test, he tried making it fully erect, and within seconds he was staring at a huge piece of meat. It gave him an idea.

Going to his Quadra (which, like his other machines, he never turned off), he started up Master Mac. He did some quick math in his head, and inputted some new values for his cock. Hitting the “Send” radio button, he was seized with a sharp pain in his best friend, but when it subsided, he looked down to see his flaccid penis much longer than before: close to twelve inches. He couldn’t wait to show it off.

“And why,” he asked himself aloud, “should I?”

Helen was a sweet girl. Everyone noticed how sweet she was. When her blond hair fell over her shoulder when she stooped to help a classmate with their work. When her blue eyes and bright smile gave directions to freshmen on campus. When her B cup breasts bounced as she bumped into students rushing to another class. When her perfect ass made it’s famous heart shape as she bent over to pick up... whatever it was she was picking up. No one was really paying attention to that, anyway. All eyes were on exactly how sweet Helen was. Such a sweet girl.

And such a busy girl, tonight. Working late to finish her project for music history, she’d finally completed her comparison between Beethoven and Mozart and how their childhoods and personalities had influenced and been influenced by their work. Now she could get a few hours of sleep before morning when she’d have to turn it in. It was terrible how she had only one class tomorrow, but it was early in the morning. Oh well.

She’d just lain down to sleep and found that she couldn’t. Instead, eyes closed, her thoughts wandered from her friends and the camping trip the bunch of them were planning, to the ones she was going to meet tomorrow for study group in the dorm lounge, to the acquaintances she had in her dorm who weren’t quite friends but who were nice enough. Specifically that Cameron. Sure, he was a little chunky and was kind of a nerd, but he’d always been nice to her, and when she had needed help with... well, anything, he’d been willing.

And now her thoughts were beginning to take another turn. She liked to fantasize, and did it when she could, but never seemed to have time these days. Now, though, she couldn’t sleep anyway, so why not? And since she had Cameron in mind, why not about Cameron? She didn’t mind that he was chubby; in fact, she thought it was cute. Maybe even a little charming. Her fingers were already at the crotch of her pajamas, though she hadn’t noticed them going there, and began to rub lightly against her panties. As she touched them, she noticed that they were slightly wet, and she jerked her hand away.

If I can feel the wetness through my pajama pants, she thought, I must have already soaked through my panties! How could I be so wet so suddenly? I must be hornier than I thought!

Helen hadn’t had sex in several months. She’d broken up with her boyfriend under circumstances that were peaceable enough but which she was having some trouble remembering right now. She couldn’t really keep anyone in her mind besides Cameron, though her image of him had changed. He’d gotten taller, leaner, and more toned all over, and his glasses were gone. He smiled at her with perfect teeth, and between his legs was just what she needed now. She wanted him to take her the way she liked best, but she wouldn’t touch herself for fear of soaking through her pajama pants.

She writhed quietly in the bed, her images of him plunging his beautiful member into her over and over, him as gentle as could be, her whole body on fire with lust. She looked into his sharp, loving eyes, and bent her chin up to kiss his lips—

Helen opened her eyes with a gasp. He whole body _was_ on fire with lust. Her room seemed stuffy, and she was having trouble breathing in the humid air. Her sheets were too hot, so she threw them off of her and got up. The moment of vertigo from standing too quickly (or was it from the fantasy?) passed, and she stepped into her kitty slippers and out of her room.

In the dorm hall, the lights were low and there was no one about this late on a week night. She didn’t want to go back into her room with it so stuffy, so she decided to pace through the halls. She usually liked walking the halls at night, reveling in the “college experience,” but tonight her desire to sleep, the rubbing of her legs together, the memory of her fantasy just made her frustrated.

Helen stopped, deciding to go back to her own room, when she realized she’d walked across the dorm to a familiar room: Cameron’s. Her feelings of lust resurged, hitting her like a wave, and she was tempted to knock on his door. Admonishingly, she began telling herself that he wouldn’t be up this late, but then she remembered that he was usually up nights. He had even invited her to call or stop by, no matter how late, if she had to talk to him about class.

Well, it wasn’t about class, but she really wanted to see (touch) him, and she figured that there wasn’t anything wrong with saying hello. Maybe he’d even enjoy the company. So she knocked.

So sooner had her second knock hit the door than it swung wide to reveal Cameron there. There was something different about him, but she couldn’t quite place it. Had he always been so tall and slim, with such arms? He must have been and she was just distracted by him in the flesh. Absently she noticed that something smelled good, but put it mentally aside.

“Helen, hi!” he said, and his voice, husky and masculine, sounded just as it had in her fantasy. She responded with some excuse about being up and in the neighborhood, but he seemed to buy it and welcomed her in to his main room. With a finger over his lips, he told her that his roommate, Josh, was sleeping in his separate room but that she should follow him to his own room. With most guys, she tried not to go into their private rooms alone so late at night, but Cameron was harmless, wasn’t he?

Cameron was amazed at how well the mental suggestions had worked. He’d barely had time to program Josh and his neighbors to sleep deeply through any noises from his room before Helen was at his door. He was ready to try out the rest of the script, and hoped that the few extra triggers he’d thrown in would work as planned.

“So,” Helen watched Cam say, “what can I do for you, Helen? Something about class?”

“Oh, um, no, Cam.” Helen blushed. It was so hard to keep her eyes from wandering all over his body. He was so... present. It must just be the fantasy, she thought, but... wow.

“Ah,” Cameron replied. A pause. “So... how’ve you been?”

“Oh, uh, good, I guess.” She was so distracted that... what was she saying?

“Good.” ... “Uh, Helen? Is there something on your mind?”

“Well, yes,” she finally said, able to break her eyes away from his calves, so well-shaped. “I’ve been, ah, thinking about... um... wow, what is that smell? It smells great.” She looked around. “Are you burning incense?”

“Vanilla,” Cameron responded, pointing to his windowsill. He didn’t burn it often, but when he was in desperate need of relaxing, he enjoyed the vanilla. Helen, of course, was smelling something else, but the incense did enough to hide this from her. Cameron turned his pheromones up a notch and, with a concerned look on his face, he placed a hand on Helen’s knee. “Helen, do you want to talk to me about something?”

Helen started to respond but was silenced by a shiver of pleasure. She put her hands in her lap in an effort to focus herself, hoping that Cameron wouldn’t see the spot of wetness on the crotch of her pajama pants. When she finally looked at him... it was too much. She just sighed contentedly and stared longingly at his features.

Cam took his cue. He raised a hand to her face and brushed the back of it over her cheek as lightly as he could. She groaned cutely in her throat, catching herself and blushing severely but not shying away from his touch. He felt the heat of her face on his hand. Taking one finger, he traced the very edges of her lips, her warm breath tickling his palm. She quivered inside at the feel of his finger on her sensitive lips.

Helen was a good girl. She didn’t misrepresent herself, and that meant advertising for things she wouldn’t do. In sex, she was very basic: thorough, but simple. She’d had intercourse, but only in the missionary position, and while she’d touched her boyfriend’s and let them touch her, she’d never gone down on any of them.

Now, though, with her urges so strong and her pussy so throbbingly hot that she was sure Cam could feel it across the room, she was starting to rethink her sexual strategies. As Cam’s finger traced, she impulsively opened her lips and put them around his finger, taking it slowly into her mouth. She let her tongue play around it, wetting it further in her mouth, as she sneaked an upward glance at Cameron’s features.

His mouth was parted slightly and his eyes were locked on her. She met those eyes and, not breaking the look, slowly slide her lips off of his finger, adding a soft kiss to the tip. Her lips remained open, her heavy breathing accentuated by the wetness of his finger.

Cameron couldn’t stand anymore. He put his hands on her cheeks, thumbs in front of her ears and fingers wrapping themselves behind her neck, and pulled her head closer as he leaned in to kiss her. It wasn’t his first kiss, but comparing the two would be like comparing his childhood Fisher-Price car with a Mustang GT. Master Mac promised, and Master Mac delivered.

Helen was blown away. She’d never been kissed like this. Cameron never used too much tongue, always broke for air when she did, and his hands! He gently massaged her face, stroked and ran his fingers through her hair, tickled the edges of her ear. She’d never had someone be so attentive to her while being kissed. It was like he was doing everything for her pleasure and nothing for his own. She could feel the wet spot on her pants getting steadily bigger.

Her hands made their way to his face, but she could barely concentrate on anything but being kissed. The sheer intensity of the sensation was almost overwhelming, it was overpowering, it made her feel like... and she came. Breaking the kiss with her ragged breathing, gasping for air and shaking, she came hard and deliciously. And he didn’t stop kissing her. The feel of his lips on hers, now even more sensitive, with her heart pounding and her legs shaking, she pushed him back onto the bed and straddled him, not breaking the kiss any more than she needed to. He must feel the wet spot now, she thought, but she didn’t care.

Her kisses went from his lips to his chin to his neck, where she nibbled her way lower and lower. Her hands pulled his shirt to his shoulders so she could make her way down his strong chest. She loved the smell of his body. It made her even hornier as she nipped at his muscles, sliding down his hard abdominals. Her tongue darted into his naval, tickling him a little, as she quickly fumbled his pants open. She pulled her head up when something hit her in the chin.

“Holy cow!” she said, the first coherent words she’d said since she’d arrived. Cameron, wearing no underwear, had an incredible thing. It looked so thick, and it was long! It was easily longer than any boy she’d been with, and probably twice as long as her last boyfriend’s. She looked up at him with wonder in her eyes, to which he just smiled.

Looking back at the monster, she timidly, then boldly, reached for it. Wrapping her hand around the shaft, she realized it wasn’t as thick as she’d thought; it was still impressive—and so hard!—but she wouldn’t have to worry about getting it inside her. Or, she thought...

No sooner had she thought than she’d done. Her mouth opened and enveloped the head of his penis. She let it rest in her mouth, feeling the sensation of the big bulb of throbbing flesh on her tongue. It felt great, she decided. It even tasted a little sweet, near the tip. This required further exploration, she decided.

She wrapped her other hand around the shaft below the her first (neither hand touched the other, the shaft was so long) and she slowly slid the head farther in. When she could take no more, she was proud of how much she’d been able to fit into her mouth, but noticed that neither hand touched the other and the top one still didn’t touch her mouth. She was amazed at the size of the thing, but didn’t forget why she was there. She slid her head back up the shaft of Cameron’s cock, letting her lips wrap tightly as she did.

Cameron groaned in pleasure as her lips firmly slid over the head of his cock. Helen took that as a good sign. In fact, it made her feel good to know that Cameron was enjoying this. She bobbed her head back down as far as she could, then slid it back up again, Cameron making quiet noises of encouragement with each bob.

A strange thing happened, too. As she sucked on Cameron, Helen felt her pussy growing hotter. With every bob of her head, she was becoming hornier and hornier. Her nipples were rock hard and she could feel the thighs of her pajama pants sticking to her legs with her juices. Judging by Cameron’s moans, she was going to end up cumming right around when he did. Wouldn’t it be wonderful, something in the back of her mind said, if we came together?

After many minutes of this, Cameron started to say something. Assuming that he was going to tell her to stop, she admired his courtesy but, at the same time, didn’t want to give up the pleasure she was getting from sucking him. And she was so close! With a hum, she gently shook her head and gripped his penis harder, saying that she wouldn’t stop. She sped her ministrations, even, her own pleasure building more closely with it.

Just before she felt herself about to cum, she felt Cameron’s balls contract a little and the shaft of his cock filled as a hot stream of semen shot through it. The instant it touched her tongue, the warm, salty-sweet taste triggered a massive orgasm in Helen. It was all she could do to keep her mouth closed on Cameron’s cock as she squealed and shuddered, moaning loudly around his meat. Her mouth filled with his cum and, with no other outlet, began to drip out of the corners of her mouth and down her chin. She swallowed as quickly as she could, but he was still shooting, and she was cumming with him.

Her last thought before she passed out from exhaustion was that, excepting the sexuality of the situation, the last bit was fairly romantic.