The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“What’re you two laughing about now?” There was a poignant, bordering on accusatory, sharpness to Kimiko’s question that I did not much care for.

“Nothing much, Kim! Just like, chatting about some Greg-stuff.” Claire’s vague answer was accompanied by a smirk that only further mystified and frustrated her girlfriend. Just as we had agreed little over a week ago, Claire kept all mentions of the strange magic bond we now shared strictly between the two of us.

Kimiko’s narrow, inquisitive eyes wandered from the perplexing pixie dreamgirl up to me. Her gaze bored into me while she furrowed her brows, but after a few seconds of burning scrutiny the tall girl shrugged. “Whatever. I’ll be be back in a few days. Just a short trip abroad to check on my little sis and mom now that my uncles are acting up again. Thought any more on what we discussed? You know, the Femme Exhibit this—”

“Oh, nah...” Claire waved her hand dismissively. “I mean, that sort of high pressure stuff is just too intense for me to deal with right now. Got more, umm, pressing concerns to handle. Besides, Greg’s coming over tonight!”

The merciless searchlights that were Kimiko’s eyes shifted their full attention back to me. The Japanese giantess pursed her lips and muttered, mostly to herself. “Greg’s coming, huh?” A sigh followed, and she glanced over her shoulder, towards her gate. “Fine. I’ll see you in a couple of days then. Have a nice weekend, you two. Bye.”

“Take care, babe. Miss you already.” The lovers shared an awkward hug. To me it looked like the oath of secrecy that I had encouraged my best friend to pledge (to keep her safe!) had driven an almost physical barrier between them, obstructing their embrace.

Claire and I were soon left alone in a busy airport. My friend turned to me with a look of discomfort, reflecting sensations of something near pain. “I’m... I get that we can’t tell Kim about any of this, Greg, but I just can’t stop feeling bad over keeping her in the dark. I mean, she’s so troubled by all that’s going on with her family and the need to deal with that baggage. Meanwhile, we’re gonna play around with your magic stuff. It’s... I totally get that actual magic powers that could potentially save the world is more important than anything else, but I... I feel like such a piece of garbage!” The familiar singular wrinkle played on my best friends forehead, a harbinger of Claire’s trouble and distress. She cast her eyes down with a pitiful whimper as she continued to pour her heart out. “Letting my girlfriend travel abroad alone to deal with relatives from actual hell threatening to make her mom and little sister homeless! Making Kim handle all that pressure by herself! While I’m keeping these huge secrets from her! What kind of person am I, Greg? What the hell’s wrong with me?”

I leaned close and gave my best friend a hug. Claire gave a slight sniffle and hugged me back, a little hesitant. It broke my heart to see her like this! To see my best friend so devastated. I’d-

Don’t feel sad, instead turn those feelings of sadness and guilt into happiness. Be glad that we can finally spend some time together.

Claire hugged me tighter and instead of another sniffle, the girl made an odd and soft little grunt, somewhere in-between a moan and a yelp. I let go, while my best friend blinked away her budding tears.

“Well, I’m... I, I guess I ought to look at this from the bright side, right? We can make use of the time when Kim’s abroad to try this magic power out some more. I swear I’ll make it all up to her once she’s back! That sounds... good. R-right?” There was something slightly off about the wide smile that spread across Claire’s face as comfortable warmth calmed her voice. Something insincere in how her troubled visage smoothed out, leaving the face that had been contorted by grief now looking pleasant. Artifice. Like a mask of forced joy.

Fuck! I had to stop doing these sort of things to her. Nudging Claire to act like how I wanted her to. It hadn’t even been a conscious decision; I had influenced the girl without thinking. I just couldn’t stand to see her sad, and now I had gone and instead made her giddy at the thought of her girlfriend of two years leaving the country! This was not okay. So not okay at all! I had to do better. For Claire’s sake.

“Greg? Are you alright?” My best friend giggled out, cutting through my guilt-induced introspection. She brushed thick strands of her rainbow-colored mane behind her ears as she beamed up at me, with her eyes still wet from the tears that were never cried. She looked so different from how I was used to see her—tanned from her trip abroad, wearing a knee-length summer mid dress. The complacent smile; tomboyish and sometimes surly Claire now pumped full of feelings of elation that seemed to make her soar higher and higher by the second.

“Y-yeah, sorry about that. Um, we should probably head back. Let’s grab something to eat on the way back to your place.”

“Sounds great, Greg!” Yet another chipper chirp. “Gosh, I’m like, feeling kinda like, weird right now. But like, so freakin’ glad we can finally spend some time. Just the two of us!” With no warning, Claire skipped close and grabbed my arm. She hovered while holding onto me, staying airborne for barely a second, a forbidden show of her powers of levitation among the strangers surrounding us. Happy thoughts bubbling over, bursting out of her! “Woohoo! Feels like I’m, like, walking on clouds or something! God! Let’s go get some booze or whatever.” She laughed out.

That laugh! My best friend’s favorite perfume filled my head—peppermint and bergamot. The sensation of her slim body and cotton dress leaning weightless against me, her bare thighs touching me ever so slightly! It was overwhelming!

Despite knowing I shouldn’t, I felt happy. Just as happy as Claire. I had simply helped my best friend get over unpleasant and sad thoughts that dragged her down, and aided her in staying positive. Was that really such a bad thing?

Our brief pit stop at a humble fast food joint had been surreal; it felt more like a date scene plucked from a saccharine romcom than any of the (admittedly few) actual dates I had ever been on.

Claire had grown comfortable in my company, her giddiness and smiles more heartfelt and genuine ever since we had left the airport. By the time we placed our order, my childhood companion could barely contain her joy, giggling at every little thing I did while clinging excitedly to me. While waiting for the burgers, the bundle of joy hugged me tight, balancing on her tiptoes, and in a bubbly, speedy whisper (almost tripping over her words) confessed how much she had been looking forward to this weekend. How thankful she felt over the chance to finally be together, just the two of us. Claire almost radiated mirth.

When our order was ready, Claire untangled herself from her tight, friendly embrace of me and literally skipped up to the counter. She navigated past and through the throngs of other waiting customers like a frolicking fairytale princess, twirling in pirouettes while laughing, tittering, and even humming snippets of song. Her behavior drew glances and stares our way and when my best friend returned, waving the fast food paper bags my way with intense excitement, bordering on hysteria, I grabbed her arm and led her out to my car. The way people stared could get us in trouble. Claire was just happy. Happy to be with me. Nothing weird about that.

Well, if only my friend had remained bubbly and cute like that, our weekend together hanging out as two best friends would have been perfect. But on the road, things got worse.

Claire had forgone her seat belt, choosing instead to fly and hover above her seat. I struggled to keep my eyes fixed on the busy road but my best friend just couldn’t seem to keep her hands off me. Like a cat dosed high off its mind on catnip, she groggily rubbed her face against my shoulder and chest. She played with my hair, scraping her fingers and nails down my neck. She nibbled at the collar of my shirt, touching it with those alluring lips that I had never kissed. But instead of a soft kitten’s purr, Claire’s shows of affection were accompanied by a strained, never-ending chuckle that rose in intensity the more clingy she got.

The dumb fucking laugh ruined my mood, shattering any fantasy I tried to construe of how Claire behaved like she actually desired, that she’d just been given a little help by my power to unfetter from inhibitions. But no sane human would laugh like that—cackle and howl like a fucking hyena.

My knuckles whitened against the steering wheel, anger mounting in response to what I felt was Claire’s mocking caress.

“What’s so fucking funny anyway, Claire?!” I finally confronted her, raising my voice over the lunatic’s cackle.

Instead of quieting down, my furor caused my best friend to howl louder with glee. She took her hands off me and sank down in the passenger seat, squirming there, stewing in laughter and joy. She tossed and turned, gripping her sides; Claire appeared happy enough to break.

With herculean effort, she suppressed fits of laughter for long enough to respond. “N-nothing’s wrong, Greg. I’m just... so... f-fuck! Why can’t Kim, like, j-just stay... gone forever.... I’m, god..! Greg! Just the two of us! Like this, forever!” Her whole body shuddered, and she bit down on one of her fingers. “I’m like, my head’s s-so, filled with these, f-flippin’ weird thoughts... I, w-why am I..?” She tittered out, her speech sluggish and teeth clattering, like she experienced a drug-induced high—blissed out of her mind. “Did y-you... do something... to me, Greg?”

The accusation felt like Claire had thrown a punch to my face! I had just tried to help her feel better! For her sake!

“N-no. I’m... no! I didn’t do anything wrong. I swear!” I replied, easing my cramped grip on the steering wheel.

Believe me.

Claire bit and chewed her fingers and lips. “Yeah! That’s what I figured. My Greg would n-never..! Guess, I’m just—” Hysteric fits of laughter that wouldn’t stop erupted from the girl, halting further speech. I let her laughter fill the void of the vehicle, keeping my eyes trailed to the road. I needed to get us home, safe.

In a trembling pant Claire at last pressed out: “Sorry, for acting so weird and being such a mess and bother to you, Greg. I’m just so... so, sooo unbelievably happy. Y-yay!!” The cheer was sharp, painful, as it broke loose from her throat. “Kim’s f-finally... gone..! I’m sooo... glaaad..!” My best friend gave a final chuckle and sob.

Claire slumped over in the passenger seat, like a puppet that had its strings cut. The tilted over, collapsed body shook like she was suffering from a mild seizure and she made strange, inhuman noises; laughter, moans and pained cries all at once.

Aghast, I turned to the girl whose mind seemed to unravel and descend to lunacy. Only the blaring horn of a truck sobered me up, and I swerved the car back to our lane by the very last second.

“Jesus, fuck! Christ, Claire! I’m so sorry. I messed up again! Just like I always do!” I cried, reaching for the girl I had driven mad. “Please, please please..! Claire!”

“Stop this!” I let my power, the true dominion I held over the poor thing strengthen my plea. Even before I spoke the words aloud, I recognized my mistake.

In instant response to my command, Claire ceased her fits of laughter and shakes while I in panic pulled over to the side of the road. The girl turned to me, her face split in a broad, inhuman grimace of a smile. She was still slumped over, but she peered up at me with laser-focused intensity, like I was the only thing that she could see, the singular matter of importance.

“S-stop what, Greg? Please, I need to... I need to stop something! But, s-stop what?! Please, please just tell me what you mean, Greg! I have to know! What must I stop!?” Claire’s fingers and nails clenched her head and scalp, pressing down like a vice out of a desperate desire for clarity. “W-what did you just say? P-please! I’m... I c-can’t... think straight. Tell me!! Let me know!! Oh, I c-can’t... deal with this any longer..!” She cried, hurtling herself to me, bawling into my chest. Cars zoomed by on the busy road.

I brushed a hand down her rainbow hair and steeled myself for what I could sense was coming. She had been pushed past her threshold.

“...master.” She voiced the word aloud in a hesitant mewl. A heavy sob followed. The sobbing eventually stilled, and the next time, she said it with more emphasis: “Master.” Claire’s laughter returned, but it sounded melodious and comfortable to my ears again. “O-of course, I only need... this. No one else. Because...” Nuzzling herself against me, breathing in my scent, she spoke the word of power a third time, now with confidence. “Master,” seeming to savor the taste of that word on her tongue, she stayed silent for a second before she continued, “please, let me to know what you desire from me.”

The word again. Master. The final, undeniable signifier that our friendship, and the great admiration I held for the outstanding artist who now held me for dear life, was a sham. I owned her. I literally held possession of her soul. With a stray thought, I could make Claire like this—I could force the girl’s mind to shatter with joy over the absence of her beloved girlfriend. I could make her worship me like a divinity. Honestly, part of me wanted Claire to do so. Despite all the gender equality talking points I had learned to parrot, and the virtuous and socially awake persona I strove to maintain, this felt right; letting Claire, my woman, depend on me. Rely on me for everything. Need me to even function.

But what I wanted or what I felt didn’t matter at all. I couldn’t allow the use of this dark power to snuff out the outstanding girl that Claire was. Or at least, had been.

“I’m so sorry, Clairebear. I’ll fix this. Fix you back up again. D-don’t worry.” I sniffed and gritted my teeth, daring to let myself indulge in the feeling of Claire’s body against mine. How her bare thighs under her skirt rubbed against my erection pressing to my jeans. The vibrant hair she so painstakingly worked to maintain sparkled against my fingertips as I stroked along it. The girl gazed up at me with admiration; eyes like those of a devoted pet. Claire shouldn’t look at me like that. She never had until now.

After a moment of my own indulgence, allowing myself the satisfaction of how Claire’s entire world revolved around me, I set things right. Just like the two previous times when things had gone awry, I fixed both Claire and her memories, undoing all of my mistakes since we had said goodbye to Kimiko in the airport.

Harsh intonations of what sounded like Arabic flowed effortlessly out of my best friend’s mouth. In the midst of her sentence, she shifted to a softer, far eastern-sounding tongue, Thai or Indonesian, perchance.

“Wow! That’s... wow, sure is something!” Claire blinked in astonishment, and then came a new remark in another language I couldn’t understand.

“Yup.” I nodded, reclining in the sofa we both sat in. “Try a couple more.”

My best friend replied in French. Followed by Chinese. Followed by half a dozen tongues I couldn’t even identify. The smile and laughter that followed was not hard to understand however—awe and amazement at the impossible realization that I had just made Claire capable of speaking any and all modern languages.

The sight and sound of Claire’s mirth hurled my mind back to painful and very recent memories from the car ride over here. That disaster was luckily no more—I had made things right, and fixed her back up again.

“Kiiyah!!” Claire took note of my forlorn stare and delivered a playful karate chop my way, announcing her attack with a very authentic-sounding oriental war cry. “What’s rattling your teapot now, Mr. Sir Gregory, Esq.?” Seamlessly transitioning back from foreign languages to English, but now with an overwhelmingly British accent.

“Huh? Oh, don’t mind me, I’m just trying to wrap my head around these powers. They’re... unfathomable.”

“Gosh, tell me about it! I mean, I failed German class, remember!? Oh, that terrible Mrs. Carols! Wish she could hear me now!” A stream of harsh profanities in impeccable German followed. And another laughter.

Claire had stayed dour and a little blue during the remainder of our drive to her and Kimiko’s place, but as the evening had progressed (and we ate some tasty, albeit cold, burgers) she had gradually warmed up and come around. This time, without my power influencing her mood. In fact, any and all traces of the fits and mental breakdown that had so recently ravaged my best friend appeared wiped clean from her body and mind. And astonishing as that may be, I had experienced “resets” of her like this twice before already.

The first time had happened just minutes after Claire had been made able to fly. Out of nowhere, sparked by a stray impulse by me of how cute she had looked, my best friend had begun to behave very affectionately towards me. When questioned, she had insisted that we had been married since high school and that a quick BJ in the school auditorium, as a little treat to her now apparently magical hubby, wouldn’t even have been the raunchiest thing we had done that week.

In panic over these sudden changes to my best friend, I had asked her to stop. Claire had whined as I withdrew myself from her grasp and when I had tried a protest of how we weren’t actually married she had responded by pointing to the wedding band she now wore around her finger. Follow-up questions about a girlfriend, their recent trip abroad and other concerns touching on Claire’s past without me had been met with confused looks, that gradually had turned to worry as she had sensed my mounting anxiety. My “wife” had gently held me, to try and calm me. As she did so, I had willed those changes to her undone. And just like that, everything had gone back to normal.

The second time it had been necessary to “reset” Claire had occurred the very next day.

My heart had been racing after returning home from the accidental tryst in the auditorium; my head blasting with fantasies of letting Claire actually service me that celebratory blowjob, and (even more forbidden) dreams of a life as husband and wife. I had eventually lost myself in a fitful sleep.

The next morning, I had struggled to our agreed upon time and place by the lake near campus. But Claire hadn’t shown. Ignoring my calls and texts, she had at last strolled up with Kimiko in tow, much later than when we had agreed. When I had dragged her aside, to point out that Kimiko being present stopped further experiments concerning the magic, Claire had been in one of her ‘moods’, and dismissed most of what I told her with an aloof indifference. She had instead suggested that we should return to her girlfriend and just enjoy a lazy day in the sun. Surely, this magic could wait a day.

Claire’s dismissive sneer when she had told me to wait had stoked that which was terrible in me; forbidden emotions and impulses that I knew to suppress.

Claire acting so bitchy despite all the nice things I did for her!

The snarky, know-it-all attitude she always put on!

And worst of all—her being so aware of how desirable she was! Yet never treating me as more than…

My mind blackened and fury had broken forth, warping the defenseless woman’s mind and body. Claire had not even a chance to take a singular step towards her dear Kimiko before she fell to her knees, ready and eager to supplicate and fawn at my feet.

And that had just been the beginning.

I prefer not to think too much of what had happened that day. I had not take advantage of her. Of course I had not!! I could never do that to my best friend. But when I finally sobered up to witness what had been done to my Claire, I had almost cried.

I could undo it all, of course. Reverse and correct those deeds done by someone who was not me. It was as easy for me as turning the page of a book.

Claire and I had returned to Kimiko and had spent a few hours relaxing by the lake, as though nothing had happened. And nothing had happened; for I had made it all go away.

I learned two things that day:

First, losing my temper and self-control meant that I also loosened the restraint over the power I held over Claire.

Second, Claire would try to adapt and recontextualize commands as something she herself desired, and needed done by her own volition. If that didn’t make sense, she would struggle and fight. But it was a futile effort; she would inevitably break down and give in.

After the lakeside incident, I had determined that I ought to stay away from Claire and Kimiko. I had to face that I harbored some deeply disturbing thoughts concerning the two of them that I, try as I might, couldn’t completely press down, no matter how nice I tried to be.

For the better part of a week I had kept myself in isolation, fearing that any encounter with Claire would trigger something in me that I couldn’t control. I had replied dismissively and curtly to her messages, blaming sickness and school projects whenever she reached out.

Kimiko’s emergency family troubles hadn’t been possible to anticipate, and had been what forced me to end my solitary confinement. Claire had called me late yesterday evening, close to tears, to let me know that she recognized that she asked a lot, but they really, really needed a driver to get Kimiko to the airport. Simply hearing my best friend’s voice again, I had felt a pang of longing, and after a brief hesitation I had agreed to help them out.

To keep neglecting the use of my power, to stay alone like some pathetic hermit because I was scared of potential future mistakes, was irrational cowardice. It was up to me to master this power. For Claire’s sake.

“Hmm, you wanna watch something before it gets too late? Movie? Anime? Streams of some cringe?” Claire asked, slinging me back from daydreams to reality with a simple question, just as readily as a playful karate chop had.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure, just let me finish this real quick.” I told her, typing a couple more lines of code for my game.

“Bleh! Working on a Friday night.” Claire leaned over to peek my screen. She squinted. “Let me fix your stuff up real quick? There’s a couple of potential issues with your formatting here and there which could turn out to be a pain in the long run.”

Right, she was godly at 3D-modeling now, and with that apparently followed some general programming chops. “No, no that’s fine, I like it as it is, Clairebear. Just gimme a couple of minutes to—”

“Okay, but while I’m waiting—” She floated up from the sofa, and twirled an impromptu pirouette to hover in the space between TV and where I sat. “Do something like, weird!”

I kept my eyes on my laptop’s screen. “Weird, huh? What do you have in mind?”

She shrugged. “Dunno. But you’ve probably thought a whole lot of weird uses for this magical stuff of yours, right? Your thing is to always ponder and overthink each and every little detail. Like, flying and speaking languages is cool and all but where’s the, umm, the ‘Claire-branded’ laser beams? Time travel powers? Fingertips of divinity that can turn water to wine?“

Weird stuff. The innocence on display made me yet again recall how Claire had been all over me in my car. “Master.” Weird stuff. Stop that! Claire was my best friend, this “power of dominion” should be used to her benefit. Not for myself. Never for myself.

“Weird stuff? Like, uhh—” My fingers smattered over my keyboard in a bid to keep my mind out of the gutter, instead staying focused on unfeeling, no-nonsense rows of code. Weird stuff. Weird stuff. Oh! That was good.

Your hair is blonde.

Claire didn’t notice that something was amiss until a few seconds had passed. That’s when she grabbed a couple of strands of now blonde bangs and made a disappointed grimace. “What the hell? This is not weird at all, Greg. Just lame as fuck!”

My mouth fell open—instead of her natural, dark blonde locks that I had intended to bring back, Claire looked like she had dunked her hair in a vat of hydrogen peroxide to let soak there until the vibrant explosion of colors had drowned and died. The slice of rainbow that normally crowned her head had given way for hair almost white; I had given her bimbo hair.

“Oh, sorry.” I guffawed. “I figured it’d be fun to get a look at you with your natural hair back again. Didn’t intend for you to get another dye job. You’re... uhh, giving off a very different vibe than usual.” She truly did; coupled with her healthy tan, my best friend looked so unalike herself! More like an influencer social media addict than a socially conscious feminist artist.

“Pfft! Why the heck would you even want to mess with my hair, Gregory? Is there a conservative little fuckwad hiding somewhere inside of you? Provoked by my pride or something?” Claire crossed her arms and huffed, flitting up and down in place like an angry bee. My innocent little screw-up had actually made my best friend upset.

“Aww c’mon, you asked me to do something weird and I tried to oblige! Relax, I’ll swap it back.” I replied, and with a thought, I undid my changes to her hair.

Claire scrutinized the reverted hair in her grasp closely before she breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, apology accepted. But don’t think I’m gonna forget about this. Heh! Greg, the bimbo chaser perv!”

“Sure, sure.” I muttered, and shifted my attention back to programming. “I’m the sort of dude who just can’t get enough of vapid women. You know, my lifestyle, down to spending all my time with a duo of lesbian ‘art hoes’ and developing an indie game that won’t sell for shit has all been meticulously set up with the singular goal of attracting hot, blonde bimbo-type chicks.” I clicked my tongue for emphasis, to really drive home the irony. “You’ve at last managed to pin-point my type of woman, Claire, after about 15 years of friendship.”

You need me to change your hair back to platina blonde. I thought, and snickered as I willed a playful new command into her head. I had to mess with her a little, as revenge for how she teased me.

“Ugh! Stop it! If you’re gonna act all sardonic and glib like that you’re just taking the fun out of it, man!” Claire still held onto a few strands of her rainbow hair, and brought it under scrutiny once more. “I mean, I guess a change of hairstyle could be fun. Just like, for this weekend, I guess. It is a pretty weird change, like you said.“

“You sure, Claire? What about me being a secret servant of the patriarchy or whatever you were just going on about?” I grinned up to the flying woman. This was fun. A joke, no big deal.

“Well, that was, umm, y’know, me just messing a bit with you, Greg!” She reflected my grin back, but her eyes signaled confusion at her own insistence. The familiar wrinkle showed on her forehead. “It... it could be fun to try it and see, right? I mean, just imagine whenever we decide to go clubbing next time! With me sporting hair like that, if I actually bothered to dress the part as well, I could probably get you, me and Kim into tons of places. Places we’d most certainly hate to be in, but still!” She shrugged. “Screw it, let’s go! Why not see if blondes have more fun. Could you, umm, please change my hair again, Greg?”

I held quiet for a few seconds, as if carefully considered her request. “Okay. I’ll do it if you say please.”

Now it was Claire’s turn to remain silent. The grin died out, and after a long wait she whined out: “Fine, fiiiine, I’ll do it!”

Flying extremely close to me, she twirled locks of her hair around her fingers and batted her eyelids. She smacked her lips and puckered them, blowing me a kiss, and when she spoke the British accent was back, but this time she settled for a higher pitch, begging for my help in some form of mock sing-song upper-class rich girl voice. “Please, please, pretty pwease, Mr. Greg. I know you wuw bimbo girls so, so much. Could you puh-leeze make Clairedoll’s hair all blonde and fluffy-wuffy again.”

“Gladly.” I replied, and obliged her. I hated myself over how much Claire’s lampooning show secretly appealed to me. A little, at least. Some feminist I was…

Claire let out a huge sigh of relief, and used her cellphone camera as a mirror to inspect herself. “Whew, much, much better!” This is kinda nice, I guess.” She giggled throwing her new hair back. “Honestly, feels pretty great! Kimiko’s gonna freak when she gets back, but that could be all kinds of fun, too. Besides, that grump’s probably got a bunch of pent up revenge fantasies revolving around dominating some blonde cheerleader type.” Claire halted her speech, and tilted her head my way. “Oh, sorry. T.M.I? I know you’re a bit sensitive when it comes to hearing stuff like that about me and her.”

“Nah, that’s okay. I’ll—”

“Okay, okay! More weird stuff, pretty please!”

“More? I just did your hair!”

“Sure sure, but that’s something I could do myself with just a trip to the hairdresser. You’re not exactly putting your earth-shattering magic powers to test here, Greg.”

“Okay.” I glanced from my computer screen, shifting my focus between my code and the eagerly awaiting, floating girl. “Let’s see, something ‘earth-shattering’, hmm?”

I thought back to Claire’s reaction to the blonde hair, and how it had taken her a second to even spot the change. Messing with Claire’s perception of the changes we did to her would be interesting. If something went wrong, I could just reverse it. I skimmed through a few of the revised lines on my screen, detailing mapping and pathfinding data for the “Dark Elf Huntress Yumina” character, and then turned my attention to Claire. Sure, that’d be “weird” enough for her, to be sure.

Your name is Yumina. It has always been Yumina.

“Still waiting for something to happen, man.” Claire cleared her throat, after a few seconds of silence.

“Oh? You’re not feeling any different then, Claire?”

She squinted at me, suspiciously. “Who’s Claire?” The quizzical squint made way for a grin. “Waaait, did you just try to change my name or something!? Pfft, if you’re gonna pick a new name for me, at least land on something cooler than ‘Claire’.”

“Yumina?” I stressed the three syllables as I spoke them aloud. Yu-mi-na.

“Yup.”

“You’re...” My mouth felt dry as I spoke. I grabbed hold of my phone and checked my messages. Sure enough, all mentions and messages from Claire was gone. Countless conversations back and forth, all now filed under the new name. “You’re Yumina!” Yu-mi-na.

“Sure am, bud! Jeez, what’s up with you, Greg? I mean, I know my name’s weird as heck—thanks a lot for that mom and dad!—but at least you should’ve gotten used to it by now!”

“You’re not... Claire. My best friend. Claire.” Saying it out loud was strange. I felt lightheaded, like I was soaring high above, and the words just fell off my tongue.

The flying girl glared at me, seeming equal amounts confused and frustrated. “Uhh, no?! But I am your childhood friend, Yumina. What’s... what’s going on right now, Greg?“

I dry-swallowed. I felt hot of all sudden, almost feverish, as the weight of what I had just done began to settle in me. “Cla- err, Yumina, I mean. I’ve... your name used to be Claire. I used the magic just now to umm, rename you.”

She laughed at first, as though I had told her a strange jest. But when I didn’t join in on the laughter, she quieted down. “That’s... that’s not a fun joke, Greg!”

I stayed silent.

“Are you... serious?” She stammered out, descending from the air as if she needed to feel solid ground under her feet. “W-what do you mean you ‘renamed me’? What about all these memories of mine? Mom telling me of the special meaning ‘Yumina’ held for her, the reason she picked such a strange name for her daughter? All the mean names people have called me? The few nicknames I’ve actually liked? What’s—”

“Calm down, Claire!” I interjected.

“My name’s not fucking Claire, Greg!!” She surprised me with a shrill cry, her voice breaking. “I’m called Yumina! Stop messing with me! This is not fun at all, you’re—”

“No. Just... Just shut up for a second!” I sprung up from the sofa with a roar loud enough to silence her hysterics. “It’s... this is all just too... Holy fuck! Y-you’re the one who don’t seem to understand what this means! The implications of... Fuck..!”

It was as though my mind was in the process of shattering; something new, a deeper understanding, forming from its broken shards.

“It’s... it’s been so goddamn obvious since day one, but I’ve... I’ve just tried to deny it, haven’t I? Kept going through the motions, held on to my rituals of noble self sacrifice for Claire’s sake, even though I could have... changed it all with a thought.” I had seen Claire on her knees, obedient, worshiping me. Mistakes.

I rubbed my head, pacing back and forth in the living room. “But... b-but Claire’s gone!! Isn’t she?! You even said so yourself—you’re not Claire! She’s...she’s actually been gone since the day I acquired this power..! Fucking hell!” My hemming and hawing rose in intensity, in aggression. “You’re... you don’t exist on your own anymore. As something independent!”

“You’re not Claire, are you?” I pointed a trembling, accusatory finger at the woman who stood paralyzed, too stunned to process the frantic outburst before her. “You begged me to bleach your try-hard rainbow hair away for some slutty thot look to go with your tan! The woman I admired so much would never..! Never! You’re even named something utterly ridiculous, christened after a stupid dark elf bitch from my computer game!”

“You’re… fake.” I spat out. My words felt so heavy, held so much vitriol that I could choke on them. But all I said was true, wasn’t it? “A replica! Someone—or something—pretending to be Claire. Because I’ve allowed you to. Because I’ve restrained myself to... to still let you be her!” The hand and finger I pointed at her quaked, as I ended my rant with a sniffle and shout.

The blonde girl’s eyes were wide as saucers and she stared at me as though she saw an actual monster in her living room. Not the sort of creature that made her terrified—the girl who looked like Claire instead looked immeasurably sad and disappointed. “You’re... scaring me, Greg. Where’s all this terrible stuff even coming from? I... I want you to leave. Now!”

The genuine hurt in the words that sounded like they came from my best friend caught me off guard. For a split second, I felt panicked by my own actions. Then, I reminded myself—the girl who spoke was not Claire. She was a husk wearing the guise of my best friend. It acted like this, and tried to manipulate me into believing it was Claire, because that’s what I had commanded it to do. I could simply change the way she behaved.

“You still don’t get it, do you ‘Yumina’?” I met the fake’s teary eyes with a hard gaze. Her words—how she so shamelessly used my emotions and niceness to hurt me—pissed me me off. “You don’t have ‘wants’ unless I let you. You’re not even... a real person, and it’s fucking silly for you to pretend. Here, let me show you.”

You are extremely horny and in need of release. Seduce me. Make me want to stay. You need me to stay.

The girl shuddered in a quiet, still whimper as her mind was whipped to submission in an instant. She took two tentative steps towards me, spurred on by my desire, and then alighted from the floor. The replica flew up to me and threw her arms around my neck.

“I’m so sorry for what I said, Greg.” She whispered, nibbling on my ear as her fingers caressed my neck and shoulders. The slutty platina hair felt soft like down against my skin. “Please, stay with me. Don’t leave. I’m so stupid.”

The replica’s breath was heavy as she brushed her lips down my neck, planting soft kisses everywhere on her trek towards my mouth. The girl wrapped her legs around me, leveraging her supernatural weightlessness by lifting both legs high up on my back, while she let her hands roam free over my body.

She kissed a trail from my collarbone up my throat, and then to my chin before finally nearing my mouth. I could feel her nipples harden, and she pressed herself against me, the flimsy dress hiking up on her skinny thighs.

“Greg... I want this. Please, give it to me. Stay.” She moaned, her closed eyelids fluttered as she leaned in for a kiss. I reciprocated immediately. The sensation of the lips I had been dreaming of for so very long finally pressed against mine; it made something like jolts of electricity course through my body. Her tongue felt like it was alive as it slid across mine, swirling around in an erotic dance that had me keeping pace, writhing underneath of her. This imitation of Claire felt so soft, warm, and real. We deepened our lip lock as she ground her hips, pressing her sex against me as she squeezed her thighs down my sides.

A need to discipline her surged from within me. I grabbed a fistful of the girl’s blonde hair, and tore her thirsty lips from mine. The slut struggled, trying to snake free from my hold, desperate to kiss me more, to do what needed—seduce me into wanting to stay by her side. I dismissed the pangs of guilt over how much I enjoyed the sight of someone who looked like Claire struggle under a crazed desire to satisfy me. This was fair—until now it had always been me who had been pining after her.

The frantic bitch yowled and panted trying to press her lips to mine as I controlled her by my grip of her hair. Her hips pumped in rhythm with her legs, wrapped around me, the tight body shaking as though she was nearing orgasm. She pulled and pinched her breasts with one hand, while the other hand tried in desperation to get down my pants despite her duress.

To see this blonde and tanned bimbo-copy of my best friend work herself into heat to satisfy my commands stoked my lust, but also filled me with something close to revulsion. How could this slut be so fucking easy to manipulate? Drop all pretense of being a respectable clone of my Claire and instead beg for my forgiveness and dick like some weak-willed bitch?

I tightened my grip of her hair. “Didn’t you just ask me to leave? What happened to all that? Aren’t you always going on and on about how much of a strong woman you are?” I grunted out, shaking the girl’s head by her hair. My cock twitched at the sight, solid as a steel rod as I finally challenged her.

In a rare show of defiance, as if provoked by my question, I sensed how the soul I held dominion over struggled and strained at its leash; she wrested some semblance of control back for a moment. No matter, she would give after soon.

“This, is your...” My belonging moaned out and squirmed from pleasure, all but a sliver of her still obeying me, the slut grinding her hips, tugging at her breasts. “Why..? What’s wrong with you, Greg?” The cumdoll that held semblance to Claire asked, and bit into her lip and groaned from satisfaction.

Her blonde whore-hair was spread in a cobweb mess over her face, she was languishing with pleasure enough to drive her mad. But hearing her words, I could only take note of the tears (of ecstasy) that streaked down the girl’s cheeks.

“What’s wrong with you, Greg?” Claire’s body was shaking, climbing towards orgasm, with me still gripping her by her hair. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth and her eyes spun without focus. But I only saw how her forehead was furrowed, a slight wrinkle dancing there as she closed her eyelids and moaned and panted like possessed. Her body tensed, and she whimpered my name.

She was a fake. A marionette. A doll for me to toy with. She was not even Claire—she was Yumina! But she looked so much like my best friend still. My belonging’s mind and body gave after for the extreme pleasure that coursed and multiplied through her body as she finally burst, releasing all tension in irresistible orgasm. Yet Claire looked sad to me. Sad, abandoned, betrayed. A broken doll with a malfunctioning voice box, repeating my name over and over, each time more distorted and warped with raw emotion.

“No!” I yelled, hurling the climaxing harlot off as I stumbled away from it all.

She rose from the floor immediately and hovered closer, her body still wracked by orgasmic bliss as she reached for me. “Please, please don’t leave me, Greg. Stay, I... I love you! Please..! I beg of you to stay, Master!” The last ounces of her feeble resistance had been extinguished.

“Stop!” I recoiled from her grasp. In wild panic, I brought up my hands before my face, to shield my vision. “Don’t look at me like that!”

“L-like what? I’m... I’m sorry, Master! Please, don’t go! Just be with me, let me make you—”

“You’re not her! Stop looking at me like that! Like you were her!” I shambled backwards. “You don’t deserve to look like Claire! Stop it! You have no right to judge me with those eyes—with her eyes!—as if you were real! You said it yourself, you’re not Claire! You’re a fucking porno character from my computer game!”

Yu-mi-na. A 3D-model I had crafted. My crude fantasies of an ideal female companion taken form. An effigy of bottled-up desires, perfect despite my lack of skill and technical know-how back when I had made her.

I blinked, and the girl that had looked like Claire was gone. Floating in the air before me was instead a very familiar sight. Mocha skin, long elven ears that stuck out from thick, knee-length ivory hair. Purple eyes, sharp like a hawk’s, that studied me carefully. Her figure was impossibly bodacious, curves that no real woman could have, highlighted (rather than covered) by what could generously be called a “bikini armor”. Only the tiara resting atop her head looked somewhat proper for the dark elven huntress queen from my indie computer game.

The digital character before me looked exactly like she did in-game. And I mean exactly. Like a projection of the character model, or a well-made plastic sculpture that moved. The dark elf lacked finer details, with her skin mostly a monotone shiny-brown color, missing both pores and body hair. Her fingernails looked like they were “painted on” the tips of her fingers, and as she studied herself and her surrounding with glowing eyes, she never blinked. She opened her mouth in shock, and I took note that Yumina’s row of teeth looked like a white, single strip hidden behind her full lips. Because of my laziness when I had made her, she lacked any semblance of individual teeth and molars.

“Master, what just... happened?” The shoddily-made CGI-slut asked me in Claire’s voice. She raised a hand with a somewhat stunted, unnatural-looking motion to inspect her completely smooth palm, lacking lines, and fingers that had no fingerprints. Even more mind-boggling to me as I observed her was how Yumina didn’t seem the least bothered by how strips of her extremely long, white hair literally clipped through her arms, shoulder blades, back and hips as she moved about.

Good. This was good. Yumina should look like that. Now she would not be able to pretend to be Claire any longer. This was not my best friend. This was a doll. A plaything, existing for my gratification.