The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“There’s no way this guy is serious,” I said aloud as I read a forum post on my computer. I was scanning through a well-hidden hypnosis and mind control fetish forum on the internet. One of my favorite members had recently written several hot first-person short stories about a very special “smart” exercise bike. The bike in the stories had the ability to bypass the consciousness of its female riders. It allowed the gym employee to insert ideas into their heads, much to his enjoyment. The author, AnonMC1151, claimed these were “true” stories. That’s not an unusual claim on these forums. I guess the authors have fun imagining they are documenting what their exploits would be if they had a mind control power. That’s not really my style, but to each their own.

The most recent update to this story was a downer but much expected. The main character was not careful to cover his tracks and finally got caught. All his toys were deprogrammed, and he ended up running from the cops. This was not an unusual ending to one of these stories… well it wasn’t until the author made another short forum post.

“I managed to grab the bike and hide it,” the post read. “I can’t get caught with it. Maybe one of you can carry on with it… be more careful than I did. I’m not too worried about the cops. I’m more worried about the others.”

“I dumped the bike behind an abandoned dealership in Carlisle, PA,” the post continued, “Good luck. This will be my last post.”

The dramatic ending was exciting, if not a bit forced. What really grabbed my attention was knowing where this abandoned dealership was. I had driven by it several times while living in Pennsylvania a few years back. “It might be fun to drive by there,” I thought. “Maybe I’ll get a free exercise bike out of it.” I was seriously impressed that this author wrote a multi-chapter story to get rid of what was probably a crappy old exercise bike in his garage.

“Ring!” My thoughts were interrupted by my morning wake-up alarm. I glanced around the edges of the black-out curtains in my messy office. Sure enough, a sliver of sunlight was bleeding around the edges. “Shit!” I cursed under my breath after realizing I had accidentally stayed awake 24 hours during a work week.

I stood up from the computer and stumbled to the bathroom, trying not to step on any accumulated trash on the floor. “This place looks like a pigsty,” I thought to myself. I’d turned into a lazy slob since I started working from home two years back. I was single and gave pretty well zero effort in anything I did.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I wasn’t overly disgusted. I had gained a bit of weight recently, but if anything, I filled out my tall skinny frame even better than when I was in tip-top shape a few years back on my college track team. My hair had darkened to nearly black due to lack of I’ve light. It really made my gray-blue eyes pop. It almost seemed like my father staring back at me more than the mental image I had of myself. A tinge of nostalgia creep in. I missed that crazy old man. He was the only family I’d ever known.

I stepped into the shower to freshen up before getting to work. “Why do I still bother with this stupid job anyway,” I thought to myself while washing my hair. “Thanks to dad, I’ve got enough money for two lifetimes.”

My father was a grade-A womanizer. There’s no telling how many brothers and sisters I actually have. I’ve never met any because Doug was excellent at not being found by his numerous conquests. My mother was an exception to that rule. I don’t remember her at all, but according to Doug, she showed up at his door drunk with 2-year-old me in tow and demanded child support from him. The story goes he called CPS and ended up getting full custody of me in the courts later on. He was a cheap bastard, especially when it came to women. It somehow served him well, though.

He raised me reasonably well, with the exception of the ideas he put into my head about women. I didn’t get his charisma, so my misogynistic ideas didn’t pan out as well for me. I also had a tiny bit of empathy my father did not have. I still had my share of one-night stands and short relationships like my father did, but much fewer and farther between. Looking back, I always felt slightly guilty for the women I had used.

When Doug passed away a couple of years back, I just quit cold turkey and decided to stay single. My motivation to do much of anything kind of went out the window after that.

After getting ready, I dressed back into some comfortable sweats and stumbled back to my office to see what I had to work on for the day.

I was a website designer in a large consulting firm. My job was basically doing the coding and layout to create functional and attractive websites for various individuals and small businesses. Over the last few years, I have automated my process with templates and macros I made. I didn’t share these shortcuts with my company, of course. As far as my coworkers knew, I was an average website designer capable of setting up 1-2 small websites per 8-hour day. In reality, I only had to work about 2 hours a day to meet my quotas. Video calls were pretty rare, so I usually spent the rest of my workday gaming or surfing the web.

After a couple of hours of work, I finished my daily quotas and decided to lie down for a nap. When I woke up, I logged back on to the forum and looked back at the exercise bike story to see if the author had updated. To my surprise, the post was gone. I dug deeper and realized the author was no longer a member either. There was no admin note of a suspension or anything, so he obviously just deleted his account.

“Okay, now you’ve got my attention,” I mumbled aloud. He had been a forum member for even longer than I had. I couldn’t think of a reason why he’d write a new story and immediately delete his account before almost anyone could read it. It was only about an hour’s drive to where I believed the story mentioned, so I carefully grabbed some supplies and hopped in my old truck.

The starter motor clicked several times, but the old truck grumbled and wheezed to life in the cold winter air. The truck was not my daily driver. I just had it for the rare occasion I needed to haul things. After an hour of driving with the comforting drone of the worn exhaust cutting through the darkening sky, I carefully pulled into a shopping center parking lot. The lot was a few hundred yards from the abandoned dealership.

While I obviously didn’t think this exercise bike, if it existed at all, would have mind control abilities, I still wanted to take extreme precautions before looking for it. I didn’t necessarily trust a random guy on the internet. Especially the part of the internet I was looking at.

I pulled out a pair of binoculars and surveyed the rear of the dealership from afar. “The light poles appear to be shot out, so there is no light, at least,” I began mentally checking as I scanned the area. “No people… but that might be a camera on that light pole. I don’t see a bike, though….”

Just as I was about to put the binoculars up, I caught a glint of glass from the far corner of the lot. Sure enough, whether by coincidence or not, a rather fancy-looking exercise bike was sitting there in the dark. I hopped out of the truck, folded my license plate back so it wouldn’t be visible, then drove to the abandoned dealership.

My face was mostly covered by my winter coat. However, I still carefully positioned the truck where the security camera on the light pole wouldn’t catch a good view of me.

The bike was glossy black with titanium accents. It had a huge tablet-like screen on the front, like the Pelotonnes advertised during the pandemic a few years back. This wasn’t the same, though. On the side, it said MC1000. I tried to lift it up and quickly realized it was easily over 600 lbs. It was about then the adrenaline finally kicked in.

“Okay, David,” I thought to myself. “This isn’t adding up. This thing has to be worth thousands of dollars. I either need to grab this fast or get the hell out of here.”

I quickly decided to try at least to load it up. A small voice in my head kept telling me, “What if the story was somehow real?” I didn’t think I would ever forgive myself if I didn’t at least try. So I opened up the tailgate and grabbed a furniture dolly and a 6′ ramp I brought with me. I managed to get the dolly under the bike with a lot of effort. Unfortunately, I wasn’t strong enough to push it up the ramp into the truck. I had a tie-down strap I could use like a winch to pull it up, but that would take a lot of time. So I decided to try getting a running start to push it up instead.

I pulled the bike back about 60′ and groaned as I pushed it hard up to jogging speed. The furniture dolly hit the ramp with a sharp blow that rocked the pickup and almost slowed me to a halt. With strength I didn’t know I had, I barely managed to push it into the bed. In a rush, I grabbed the ramp and closed the tailgate. Immediately after, a pair of lights appeared on the far opposite end of the lot. It was pitch black out now, so I probably hadn’t been spotted yet. I hurriedly raced my truck out of sight behind the building without turning my lights back on, then drove over the curb and through the ditch back to the main road. I turned my lights back on and merged in front of a shocked motorist just as a black SUV stopped precisely where I was not 30 seconds earlier. I took a few deep breaths and set my course back home.

I couldn’t stop looking in my rearview mirror on the way back. I figured I was being paranoid, but I took a few back roads and finally stopped in front of someone else’s house about 30 minutes from mine. I gave the exercise bike in the back a close once over, checking every visible part of it for an AirTag or GPS tracker. I didn’t find anything. As a final precaution, I left the truck and hid in the forest at the end of the street for about an hour to see if any scary black cars would appear. Luckily nothing happened, so I folded my license plate back down, drove back to my house, and parked safely in the garage.

I slept with one eye open that night. I left the bike loaded in the truck. If any black SUVs showed up, I’d probably be better off if it was clear I hadn’t attempted to use the bike yet. Nobody came, though, so the following day, I unloaded the unreasonably heavy machine and set it up in the garage.

I still didn’t trust the thing, so I was exceedingly paranoid about setting it up. So I made a makeshift faraday cage out of a couple of woven wire trash cans and placed them around the substantial tablet-like touch screen before I plugged the bike in. I also turned off my Wi-Fi and all of my Bluetooth devices.

With the machine plugged in, a fan in the front wheel made a quiet whirr, and other unknown components made other electrical noises briefly before stopping. The screen flashed on with a brief swirling color start-up screen. It then flashed to a home screen with a bevy of buttons and options. At the top, the name MC1000 stood in proud, bold titanium-colored letters. As far as I could tell, it wasn’t trying to connect to any internet. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any sophisticated way to test it, but I did have an idea.

I grabbed my antique portable AM radio and turned it to max volume. I removed the faraday cage and carried the AM radio around the bike, listening for the telltale buzz of various frequency pollution. I heard nothing. I checked to see if the AM radio would pick up my cell phone’s emissions. I heard an evident change in the background static as I moved the phone closer to the radio. With that data, I was reasonably confident this bike did not “phone home.”

With paranoid testing out of the way, I began searching through the settings for any kind of user manual or hints about the “special features.” Not that I believed they existed. After 30 minutes of searching, I found hundreds of settings, from gravel road simulation toggles to screen brightness adjustments. Frustrated, I opened the internet archive and found a snapshot of the forum story before it was deleted. Sure enough, one of the posts loosely described the process to activate the supposed mind control settings. I clicked settings and clicked through to page 3 of the settings list, then selected additional programming.

“Please type in PIN _ _ _ _” flashed on the screen. “Shit!” I exclaimed, “god willing, this is just a standard 0000 pin.” A loud buzz came out of the speakers as “incorrect pin, two attempts remaining...” flashed on the screen. I tried 1234 and got the same result. I knew the answer wasn’t in the story online, but I checked anyway. I also used Ctrl-f on a few other AnonMC1151 stories. The only idea I had was to try 1000 for the name MC1000. It was my only chance, I thought. I slowly typed the numbers, but right before I pressed the last 0, I paused.

“No, it can’t be,” I spoke aloud as I remembered 1151 in the author’s name. I shakily typed it in. A loading pinwheel showed up on the screen for several seconds. Finally, a small ding sounded, and a new menu popped up titled additional programming.

“I’m in,” I said in my best movie hacker voice. Scrolling through the settings, there were several debug and developer options. I clicked on one that allowed me to change the pin to a unique one I’d never used before. At the bottom of the settings list was an option called “Arousal and Mind Control Settings.”

My breath caught at that. The small voice in my head, thinking there was a tiny chance that this was real, got much louder. There were two possibilities now. Number one was: this AnonMC1151 guy designed an exercise bike from the ground up, including industrial-quality parts, circuit board design, and professional coding, for the sole purpose of making a role-play sex toy or writing prop. The second possibility is that what he wrote was a true story, and a company out there makes functional mind-control devices and sells them on the black market. Occam’s razor is generally a good tool for answering these questions; however, I couldn’t be sure which option was the simplest explanation. So I’d just have to test it.

First, I needed to understand how to use it. There were several options in the sexercise settings, but notably fewer than all the other menus. The settings and their brief descriptions were as follows:

• Activate/Deactivate Arousal and Mind Control Mode (AMCM)

  “Activate/deactivate seat stimulation system for programming female subjects. Please read user manual pages 80-90 for detailed instructions. Current setting: deactivated.”

• AMCM active duration (enter time in minutes)

  “Enter desired time until AMCM automatically deactivates when no subject is detected. Current setting: 15 minutes.”

• Programming Mode: Manual/Automatic

  “Toggle programming mode to automatic to use macro commands inputted in settings (see pgs. 90-115). Set to manual to self-administer verbal commands. Current setting: manual.”

• Experimental Intensity Toggle (low/default/high)

  “Beta test setting. Alters the intensity of the AMCM stimulation system. Low will result in partial programming acceptance and possible awareness of programming changes. High may result in excessive cognitive restructuring. Current setting: default (recommended)

• Automatic memory adjustment (on/off)

  “default setting ON automatically implants the memory of a pleasant workout session into the subject and erases the subject’s memory of the acquisition process and programming (programming will still be followed). Setting OFF allows the user to manually dictate the subject’s memory using verbal commands or allow it to remain unaltered. Current setting: ON

• Trigger phrase for permanent changes (insert up to 100 characters)

  “A user-spoken trigger phrase to make all changes to the subject permanent. Current setting “you belong to me.”

• Duration of programming (insert time in hours)

  “When the trigger phrase is not used, this setting determines the duration in which programming will be applied. When the duration expires, the subject’s memory of the time during the selected duration will be erased, and all thoughts about the period will be suppressed indefinitely. Current setting: 24 hours”

• Macro Commands

  “Insert up to ten single-sentence commands per macro (see pgs. 90-115). 1 out of 3 macro slots is currently filled. Select macro group during route setup when programming mode is toggled to automatic. “

• Arousal and Mind Control Deprogramming Mode ON/OFF

  “When toggled on and PIN is accepted, this mode allows for complete deprogramming of subjects. Warning: subjects will retain the entirety of their memories after AMCM was applied and will no longer follow any previously programmed commands. Restraints are recommended. Current setting: OFF

After reading the menu options and explanations, I was more than a little hard. “This can’t be real,” I said out loud as I wiped the cold sweat from my brow. “But I’ve got to find a way to try it.” Images of girls from my past on their knees, looking at me in adoration, flashed through my mind. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” I internally chided myself.

I then remembered that one set of macros had been filled. So I decided to click through and see what AnonMC1151 had written there.

“Macro Group 1: You obey Tony without question. You are very attracted to Tony. You are a dumb horny bimbo. You will happily have sex with anyone Tony tells you to. You will have Tony teach you to program the bike. You will encourage other attractive girls to try the bike. You will set up the bike and mind-control girls for Tony. You will believe you are doing everything of your own free will.”

“Yeah... I can see how you got caught, Tony...” I laughed. He had some decent ideas, but the macro probably caused most of his problems. The macro likely made an ever-increasing amount of women suddenly become horny bimbos and start trying to get other women to come to ride the bike. It was inevitable that a concerned onlooker would eventually connect some dots.

“If this is real, I can do better.” I thought while I started planning out how to test the bike.

The problem with finding a test subject was that I had no female friends. As I’d been referred to many times, being a misogynistic prick wasn’t a trait that lent itself to maintaining friendships with women. Not that I really wanted to, anyway. I much preferred enjoying their charms that didn’t involve talking. I burned all my bridges; this was the first time I cared. Convincing a trusting friend to ride the bike would be much easier if it was an option.

There were other ways to get a subject though. I fired up my computer and browsed my social media for local gyms and workout groups. There were several posts with women looking for personal trainers. That was my in. I had a minor in kinesiology along with my computer science major. I had some required classes that went along with my college track scholarships and decided to take a few extra to get the minor. Until now, I had thought I had wasted that time and money. I never expected I would be able to use the degree as a small proof of qualifications to start my own very private personal training business.

I spent the rest of the week cleaning out and renovating my garage. Finally, after several days of work, it had lovely black epoxy floors, an insulated garage door, wall mirrors, and assorted workout equipment. But, of course, the centerpiece of the room was my special bike.

Using my expertise in website design, I created a non-indexed webpage for my gym. It had professional-looking photos, fake testimonials, and the whole nine yards. Something bothered me about the website when I was about to make it live. I realized it showed my exercise bike in several of the photos. Being a non-indexed site would help shield me from anyone looking for the bike, but I wasn’t going to risk it. I deleted all the photos and took new ones with the bike removed from the garage.

“All that’s left is doing some advertising.” I thought as I looked over my new home gym. I browsed through the social media groups and sent private messages to a couple of the better-looking girls asking for personal trainers. I typed: “I’m an experienced personal trainer. My small in-home gym gives affordable 60 or 90 min training sessions. The first session is free. Let me know if you have any questions.”

I received a quick response from a girl named Amy. I couldn’t tell too much from her profile. Her photos were mostly selfies with obnoxious filters that hid most of her face. I did manage to pick her out in a few of her friend’s group photos, though. She was fairly tall, at least compared to her girlfriends. Probably 5′–7″ with blond hair and brown eyes. She looked average to my taste. “You’re skinny enough, not much T&A, though,” I crudely thought at her as I viewed her photos. “I’d probably take you home from the bar, so you’re good enough, I guess...”

I decided to respond to her message. Amy had sent: “That’s great! Do you have any references? Any pictures of your home gym? Also, what will it cost per 90-minute session after the free trial? Thanks!”

I sent her a link to my website, a photo of my kinesiology minor, and a made-up super cheap price of $45. I hoped the price wasn’t so affordable it seemed too good to be true. I conveniently ignored the question about references and hoped she considered my fake reviews on my website good enough. I also let her know I could leave the garage door in the gym open if that made her feel more comfortable.

“Wow! You’ve built a really nice at-home gym, and that’s a great price! When is the earliest you would be able to give me the free session? I work 8:00 am to 5:00 pm, so I would prefer evenings if you do that!”

“Thanks! I have one open slot left for tomorrow evening, 8:00 pm to 9:30 pm. It’s a bit late, but I’ll be able to get you better times later on. Does that work?”

“Yes! Send me your address, and I’ll see you tomorrow! I’m excited :)”

I was excited too, but for many different reasons than her. Tomorrow I would finally find out if I had lost my marbles or if all of this was real.

Sleep didn’t come easily. I was far too anxious for the next day. There were two possibilities I assumed might happen. Either the bike worked, and I would suddenly have the power to make all of my darkest fantasies a reality. Or absolutely nothing would happen, and I’d have to bumble through being a personal trainer after spending thousands on equipment. “I really need this,” I brooded over the thought of returning to everyday life. “This is the first time I’ve felt motivated in months.” I eventually fell asleep, though. My dreams were full of sexy girls kneeling at my feet with pure desire and absolute obedience in their eyes.

The next day I decided to work my complete shift. I easily finished my entire week’s worth of work in 9 hours. The rest of the week, I would send out my already finished work in the evening and respond to emails. With my work out of the way, it was nearly time for my first personal training session. I excitedly went to the garage and set up the bike. The night before, I came up with the framework of a plan for a decent test. I would first do a test run with very few commands and a short duration of programming setting. This would allow me to safely determine if the memory erasure function worked. I set the duration to 0.25 hours. Surprisingly, the machine accepted a fraction of an hour as an input. I left everything else on the default settings. It wouldn’t be wise to go too far yet.

Just before 8 pm, I toggled on the arousal and mind control mode as two headlights lit up my driveway. After quickly closing the programming menu, I put on my best fake smile and walked to the garage door to greet Amy. She exited her filthy black economy car wearing grey yoga pants and a pink long-sleeve workout shirt. Her long blond hair was done up in a ponytail. It swished from side to side as she energetically walked up to my garage to greet me and escape the cool winter air.

“Hi, I’m Amy,” she spoke in a nervous, shaky tone. “You must be David.”

“Guilty as charged!” I replied with a slight cringe at the poor choice of a lame joke, “welcome to my humble gym and garage.” I gestured for her to step in. “It’s a pretty decent set-up, and I can change your car’s oil in here after your session for a small fee too.”

Amy giggled briefly at my attempt at breaking the ice. “It really is a fancy home gym, though.” She said with sincerity as she stepped into the garage and put her water bottle down in the corner.

“How about you follow me in some stretches and tell me your goals for this training.” I pointed to a pink yoga mat I had set up for her. She complied, and we sat down as I led her in the same stretching routine I had ingrained in my memory from years of running track.

“Well, life has been pretty turbulent the last few months, and I really need a new hobby to get my mind off things. ya know?” She began talking as she carefully mimicked my movements. “So... mmm.. that’s a stretch... I decided I should try to get into better shape and maybe make my butt a little nicer.” She said with a slight blush. “I’d like to get back into the dating scene with a little more to brag about.”

I glanced at her ass in one of the wall mirrors as she stretched and smirked, thinking, “you should have started working on that years ago, and maybe you wouldn’t be single now.” She wasn’t flat, but she definitely had work to do. I was pleased she was single, though. That makes things much more manageable.

We chatted for another few minutes before I got up and suggested we start with some cardio. So I led her to the MC1000 and raised the seat to the 5′–7″ mark on the seat post.

“This thing is really nice!” She exclaimed as she sat down on the seat. “I didn’t know Pelotonne had competitors, but I guess they do!”

“Yeah!” I said with a glint in my eye, “this bike is supposed to have some very special features. I hope we can try them out together.”

She started pedaling slowly but quickly stopped as her breath caught in her chest and her knuckles turned white, grasping the handles.

The way she reacted was not dissimilar to the reaction of a girl when you try to touch her over-sensitive clit after an orgasm. My heart was pounding at the possible prospect that this bike was working. “Is everything ok?” I said with mock concern. “I can lower the resistance setting if it’s too heavy for you.”

“N...no, I can do it. It just felt...” she stumbled over her words as she gathered herself. “Interesting. I’m just going to go for it!” She started pedaling hard. Her eyes closed briefly, and she gently bit her lip as a strange, suppressed feeling spread through her body. A spiraling graphic appeared on the touch screen of the bike. Amy’s eyes lazily traced along with its spin. As her pedaling increased, the spiral sped up too. Finally, after several seconds of determined pedaling, Amy’s brown eyes became glassier and glassier. Suddenly, the bike’s seat slightly angled itself upward and subtly changed shape to push more directly on Amy’s crotch.

I watched as Amy’s masked pleasure and determination clearly changed to unbridled need and pure instinct. Her face flushed red, her mouth parted slightly into a small O, and she began getting noisier and noisier.

“Oh... my... mmmm,” she began to moan as I quickly hit the garage door close button on the wall. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

“If I didn’t know better, I would say you were cumming over and over,” I said to her as I watched in awe. “How does this technology exist?” I stroked my painfully hard cock as I watched the single hottest thing I had ever seen. I had fantasized about seeing a girl mindlessly and endlessly cumming her brains out but didn’t think it was actually possible.

After maybe a minute more of her unwitting possible self-enslavement, Amy arched her back and screamed in ecstasy, “oh MY GOD! PLEASE! Mmmmmmmmm.”

The screen on the bike flashed red rapidly during the entire length of her massive orgasm. Her pedaling slowed to a walking pace, but her blank watery eyes never blinked or left the screen on the bike.

I slowly walked closer to the bike. “You’re really hypnotized, aren’t you?” I asked Amy in disbelief. She didn’t respond or give any indication she heard me at all. I gave her a closer look. I would have said she looked average, maybe even plain Jane, earlier, but now she looked mind-blowingly sexy. I stroked her hair and removed her hair tie, letting her shiny natural blond hair drape down her arched back. I traced my fingers down her spine until I cupped her small but firm ass. I gave it a firm slap, and she didn’t respond at all. Moving back to her front, I noticed a small amount of drool beginning to escape her still-parted pink lips. It was kind of sexy in an unusual way, probably because I was the one that tricked her into this state. I grabbed at her chest, but her sports bra smashed down whatever curves were hiding there. “I’ll come back to these later,” I whispered with a smirk. Finally made my way down to her slightly parted legs. Her yoga pants were soaked to a dark gray. I reached to cup her mound. “Fuck!” I jumped back and cursed as a massive shock shot through my body. “Jesus! I guess there’s some electricity involved with this somehow.”

Shocked back to the present, I remembered I had some testing to do. Amy kept pedaling slowly as I looked at the screen of the bike.

“Subject acquisition complete! AQ intensity rating 113%. Subject ready to accept commands. State the subject’s designation to continue...” was displayed on the green-tinted screen.

“Amy, can you hear me?”

“Yes, master, how may I serve you?” She monotonically replied without moving.

“Oh wow... ok.. umm,” I hesitated as my heart threatened to pump out of my chest when she called me master. “I’m going to ask you some questions. You will always answer entirely truthfully.

She didn’t respond. I guessed she might only respond to questions.

“How do you feel, Amy?”

“I feel horny and nothing else, master.”

“Ok...” I struggled to keep my composure. “What do you think about the bike?”

“What would you like me to think about it?” She replied, still in a perfect monotone.

“You love the bike and will ride it any time I tell you to.” I paused a minute to see if she would reply. Instead, Amy just stared blankly ahead. “Now, what do you think of the bike?”

“I love the bike. I will ride it any time you tell me to.”

“Do you have anyone waiting to check up on you tonight? Does anyone know where you are or who you are with right now?”

“No, No.”

“Well, that wasn’t very smart.” I thought to myself. “I wouldn’t even go to a strange man’s house without someone knowing.”

I continued questioning Amy. “Tell me what you remember from riding the bike.”

“I had an enjoyable bike ride.”

“I’ll say,” I snickered. “Be more specific, did you feel anything unusual?”

“No, I had a perfectly normal, enjoyable bike ride.”

I realized the memory alteration function seemed to work fine, at least currently. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get much more information from her like this. I needed to give one more command to test how they worked after she got off the bike, but I needed to restrain myself to a couple since I only had 15 minutes to play with.

“Amy, you will strip naked when you get off the bike. You will not redress until I tell you to. I will also ask you more questions after you get off the bike. You will not think the questions I ask are unusual. Get off the bike now.”

Amy stepped off the bike and stood beside it. Some life slowly came back to her face. Her eyes flicked to mine. I shivered for a second, thinking she knew what I did, but she quickly smiled, lifted her shirt, and began following her command to strip.

With a sigh of relief, I asked, “how do you feel now?

As she stripped, she replied seductively, “I feel great, David! I’m verrry horny after that bike ride though. I hope you have more... fun planned for us!”

I wasn’t shocked that she was still horny after being mind fucked by the bike, but I was surprised by how forward she was. Especially since none of my commands to her suggested that reaction.

She continued stripping for me as I watched. Finally, she lifted off her sports bra revealing a pair of very small but perky tits with hard pink nipples. She’d look better with bigger tits, but I’d still squeeze them. I slid my hand down to my still painfully hard erection just to see if she’d react.

Her brown eyes followed my hand, and she reacted with a small gasp. “Would you like me to help you with that,” she said with a slightly unsure voice as she stripped off her panties, revealing her swollen and shaven pussy, “I’m pretty good with my hands.”

“Maybe in a minute; I have a few questions first,” I said as I checked the timer on my watch. “How aroused are you on a scale of 1-10, where 10 is the horniest you could possibly imagine?”

“I’m an eight right now,” she replied as her now free hands moved to hover dangerously near her clearly glistening pussy.

“What’s the most aroused you’ve ever been before now?”

“Probably a 7.”

“Wow, ok. Would you suck my dick if I asked you to right now?”

“Umm… no, but if I knew you better, I would for sure!”

“What if I ordered you to suck my dick?”

“Oh god! I think… I… I would, David. Like, I know I shouldn’t, but I feel like I’d just have to do it.”

“Interesting… are you typically a submissive person in bed?”

“No, not usually. I preferred to be dominant in the past.”

“But not now, though?” I asked as I mused on the possible side effect of the bike. “On a scale of 1-20, where 1 is a mindless slave, 10 is a switch, and 20 is an unwavering dominatrix, what are you?”

“Right now, I’m a 5, but I’ve never been lower than a 12 before now!” She exclaimed with a smile. “I guess you really caught me in a weird mood today.”

Her responses confirmed my suspicions that the bike had a side effect of increasing women’s arousal and submission. I had gathered that from the forum posts before but wasn’t sure because AnonMC1151, never tested his subjects this way. Of course, he had the instructions to tell him everything…

“One more question Amy,” I spoke. “What do you remember after you got on the bike?”

“I pedaled until you told me to get off the bike,” she told me. “I really love to ride it and will ride it again anytime you tell me to!”

“You don’t remember feeling anything unusual or remember me talking to you while you rode?”

“No?” She confusedly spoke, “it’s a comfortable bike. I apologize if I ignored you talking. I must have been focused. I can still make it up to you… if you want.” She turned her head cutely and bit her lip.

“Sure! Go kneel on the yoga mat with your legs spread for me,” I commanded forcefully. She hurried to the yoga mat with wide eyes, kneeled, and spread her tanned legs for me. This was the first time I’d ever been that direct with a girl. My cock twitched slightly in excitement. I pulled down my sweatpants to free my cock so I could stroke it better.

“I see your hand hovering over that wet pussy. Play with yourself now!” I watched as she nodded her head and slowly started teasing her clit. A small moan escaped her lips. Her brown eyes remained glued to my dick. I walked over directly in front of her with my dick inches from her partially opened mouth. She rolled her eyes up to meet mine, and I commanded, “suck me now, please, Amy.”

She immediately slipped my dick into her wet eager mouth. We both moaned in pleasure. I wasn’t far from cumming after just a few seconds of her enthusiastic manipulations. All my fantasies were coming true, and I couldn’t hold myself back easily.

“Errrrr! Errrrr! Errrrr!” My phone alarm screamed, startling both of us. 10 minutes had passed. I set the alarm to give me enough time to redress Amy and clean up before the 15-minute programming duration expired.

I begrudgingly slipped out of Amy’s mouth and said, “let’s save it for later. We still have more to do.” She nodded but remained kneeling on the mat with a finger working her slick pussy.

“You need to get dressed now,” I told her after watching for a moment.

She said, “ok!” and started redressing. Starting with her still-soaked panties.

While she dressed, I worked on composing myself, and I asked a few questions. “What do you think about what we just did?”

“I’m kinda bummed you stopped,” she replied as she put on her bra.” I mean, I probably shouldn’t have been sucking your dick or jilling myself in front of you, but it was pretty HOT!”

“Yeah, sorry about that, but I’ll explain why we stopped in a few minutes!” I lied. “What is your arousal and submission now on the same scales from earlier?”

“I would say a 6 for arousal and 5 for submission still. I lost a bit of my mood from the alarm and stopping.”

“I get that,” I said as I looked at my watch. 1 minute left. “Tell me, what is a really big turn-off I could do to you right now?”

“Umm… anal play is a huge turn-off for me.”

I walked up to her and roughly tried to shove my finger in her ass through her yoga pants. At best, I succeeded at giving her a massive wedgie.

“What the hell, dude! She angrily exclaimed”

I backed away and put my hands up. Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” I replied with an evil smirk. Amy tried to interrupt to berate me some more, but I asked another question, which forced her to answer truthfully per her programming. “Did that change your arousal or submission rating?”

“No!” She exclaimed in a higher pitched angry voice. “But now I’m just horny and mad!”

I smiled at the possible explanation for the lack of change in arousal. I hypothesized that she was held to a minimum arousal level when under programming. I figured it was part of maintaining the programming. The bike possibly inputted subliminal commands to keep the subjects indefinitely horny, likely as a way of distracting the subject from any odd commands. I really needed the user manual to figure this all out, though.

Just then, the 15 minutes ended, and Amy froze in place.