For Loop: Consensual Mind Control Smut

Hello my lovely readers! Here's something new and sexy a woman's (consensual) descent into an obedient robot maid. Initially this story feels non-consensual, but read it through til the end, all will be revealed in time.

CW: Mind control, memory play, consensual non-consent. 

Chapter 1

A bootup sequence is surprisingly not all that dissimilar from waking up in a living, flesh body. At least, I think it is, overtime the details get a little fuzzy. Not that my lapse in perfectly clear memory was cause for alarm, I was eternally grateful for Kelsie and her fortunate position as a cutting edge robotics researcher. Getting to be a living, talking, moving, thinking—though not exactly breathing—person was miles better than being stuck in a coma, healing all manner of shattered back in my flesh body. And honestly, once you get used to the sounds of servos whirring and the constant electrical hum, it really wasn’t not all that disquieting inhabiting a robotic platform. Mostly, I was just glad the tech seemed to be working, not that I was even going to pretend to understand how it worked. It had something to do with digitizing and broadcasting my mind into this platform or whatever, but anything beyond that just lost me completely. So instead, I just did my best to not think about the fact that my consciousness had somehow been transferred to a completely inorganic body, and tried to make a normal life for myself.

But anyway, bootup sequences: I’d been thinking about them lately. About slowly feeling your mind come back online after entering what was ostensibly a low power recharging mode not at all dissimilar to sleep. Things start out hazy; whenever it happens for me, I just sort of exist for a while in that space, not really thinking about where I am or what I’m doing until my mind catches up with my memories of the night before and awareness of my surroundings. Sometimes dreams come, too, and I linger in them for a little while in a half asleep state until finally fully awakening.

I was lying awake in bed, Kelly having already gone to work, mind fully awake, reflecting on rather deep concepts such as how my consciousness now related and different from my consciousness then, and if it even did differ, when an odd realization struck me. On its own, this wasn’t entirely strange, my robotic body had been built to simulate a human one, including a short term memory. The word was still out on how suddenly giving a human literal perfect computer memory would impact their psychology, especially during times of high stress and trauma, so the people in charge of making my new body had elected not to play god.

Regardless, I could remember what I’d done yesterday, sort of, anyway. But it all seemed so hazy. It was the same with the day before that and, before that as well. In fact, I couldn’t really tell where my memory started to grow hazy from the simple passage of time, and where this odd anomaly started. If one were to ask me for example, “hey Elise, what did you do yesterday?” the answer would be easy enough. I would say that I’d done pretty much the same thing I’d done every day since getting my temporary new hardware. Since the nature of Kelsie’s little project was so secretive, I was buried under a mountain of NDAs, and absolutely not allowed to return to work, or take up any new employment. As such, I’d pretty much become a live in wife for her. Which wasn’t really a big deal, it just meant we had someone to take care of chores more consistently.

So, my answer to the question of what I’d done yesterday, or the day before that would be pretty simple: I’d cooked, I’d cleaned, I’d maybe run a few errands. But other than that, well, I’d certainly had freetime, right? I had faint memories of cumming, of doing that a lot actually, perhaps even interspersed through the day. But I couldn’t really point to any particularly memorable instances of masturbation, or sex with Kelsie, for that matter. And, admittedly, when one has a string of monotonous days, memories do have a tendency to blend together; Covid had taught me that. So, realistically, I’d likely spent time browsing the internet, scrolling through an endless social media feed, watching some video or other, playing some game or other.

When I really thought about it, the best answer my mind could come up with was ‘yesterday I had a perfectly normal day.’ That thought almost jumped out at me, like some authority figure standing in front of a gaping, burning pit in the ground calling ‘nothing to see here folks, nothing to see.’ And that, most of all, was what worried me. Actually, that’s not true, what worried me most was how badly I seemed to want to believe there was nothing wrong. It was like there was this mental block put in place, a thick bog I had to wade through in order to come to any conclusion other than that everything was ‘fine, actually quite alright, come to think of it.’

Regardless, no mystery would be solved while lying in bed. Or not this one, at the very least. I stood, and dressed myself in plain ole grey sweats and a white tank top, the perfect low effort casual wear for lounging around the house, exactly my style. Kelsie always encouraged me to pretty myself up for her, and don’t get me wrong I absolutely did when the occasion called for it, but for the most part I rarely even put on a bra and panties. It was a miracle I even put on pants, anything more than basically pajamas was way too much effort for just hanging around at home. That being said, there was one thing I always wore, no matter what: my favorite choker. When this all started, Kelsie had embedded it with a monitoring chip to ensure everything was functioning from moment to moment. She’d made it that way just for me; she’d known that early on the idea of having to wear a chip to make sure my robotic body didn’t malfunction would do a number on my overall sense of personhood; so she’d implanted the chip in something I loved to wear. Honestly, I was eternally grateful for her thoughtfulness, just feeling it come to rest around my neck made me feel better. It reminded me of her, made me feel like she was with me, looking out for me.

A soft, contented smile played across my lips as I felt the chip activate and connect to me. In many ways that connection felt like some digital manifestation of her love. She was using it to look out for me, afterall. Putting it on always made me feel safe, secure. I knew that instinctively, even if I couldn't’ really concretely remember the other times. Which wasn’t really a big deal, I mean, who remembers donning on a piece of clothing they literally wear every single day? For a few moments, I basked in the sense of peace wearing the choker brought me, in the feeling of it lightly brushing against my soft, sensitive synthetic skin, in the knowledge that what I had around my neck was a symbol of Kelsie’s affection for me, of her love and the love I felt for her. Part of me just wanted to drift and forget all my worries.

Wait, forget? Right, shit, I’d been having memory problems lately. I was supposed to be looking into that, and there I was standing in my bedroom, mouth half agape, basking in the feeling of a piece of clothing around my neck. It certainly looked rather silly. Hell, if I’d stayed that way any longer, I’d probably have started drooling out the saliva-like lubricant which the glands in my mouth produced. I ignored some lax part of my mind which told me to let the whole thing slide, and crossed the room to Kelsie’s computer. If my memory issues were the result of something going wrong, I could use my own monitoring device to check. I logged in, and opened up the little barebones app Kelsie had developed and, to my mild dismay, everything was working perfectly. My mobility was all working properly, processing units at full power, coolants doing their jobs, neural sensors properly simulating the human senses. All systems were ago. But wait, actually, none of that really had anything to do with my memory or cognitive function. Perplexed, I scrolled through the page, looking over it again and again, searching for anything regarding memory, behavior, habits, whatever I could find. I knew it had to be there, but I just couldn’t see it.

After my fifth pass through the data, I realized something. There was an entire section of the app I seemed to be almost deliberately ignoring. In fact, I was only even able to notice I was skipping something by realizing I had been rapidly scrolling through the page then suddenly stopping over and over again, skipping over it. Taking what amounted to a deep breath, I concentrated hard and once again simply skimmed right over the section in question. I tried again and again, and found that no matter how hard I focused, my eyes would just skip right over whatever section of the page this was. It was like the contents of the page were… forbidden. Looking at it almost hurt.

Worse still, was that the ‘nothing to see here’ part of my mind seemed to be working in overdrive to make me not even want to look at whatever was there. Over and over again, the second my eyes finished skipping over the page, the second I was no longer in danger of seeing whatever it was I seemed unable to look at, some sort of positive stimulus surged through me, like a hit of dopamine. Needless to say I was starting to freak out. I could literally see my response play out across the various displays on Kelsie’s monitor. My servos were whirring aggressively, coolant pumping rapidly as my neural processors went into overdrive trying to make sense of what was happening. Instinctively, I started to hyperventilate, only I didn’t need air, so instead I simply stood in the middle of our bedroom, panting heavily, shaking and repeatedly trying and failing to force myself to look where something wouldn’t let me. And I… I needed to calm down.

I was scared. I was losing my head. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong if I was panicking. No, no, the best course of action would be to try and clear my head a bit, relax, then try this again later. That way, when I came back to it, I’d have a fresh set of eyes and non-clouded judgment. Right, that made sense. Just needed to calm down, relax. Forcing myself to walk slowly and deliberately, I strolled down the hall of our home. Each step I took away from that computer, away from that stress made me feel better. I was doing the right thing. I was being good. The further away from that computer I was the better. I wandered into our living room, and searched for something to occupy myself. Focusing on that was so hard when the whole room was so messy though! That was fine though, cleaning was just the sort of thing I needed to get out of this headspace. It was easy both to do and to occupy myself with, the perfect thing to just lose myself in instead of thinking about my problems.

To start, I cleaned the floors, then dusted. I vacuumed, cleaned up assorted messes and things out of place, and let myself disappear into the simple, relaxing task of cleaning Kelsie’s home. The whole time I kept thinking about just how happy Kelsie was going to be when she got home, I couldn’t wait to see her smile, to hear her praise me. And I was being so good, each thing I cleaned sent little ripples of contentment and pleasure through me. Kelsie had made especially certain that my body would be able to feel pleasure, and each sweep of my duster, each loose sock or misplaced dish, each spot of dirt scrubbed away seemed to build some phantom feelings so similar to sexual delight. I found myself craving it, gleeful every time I found something new to clean so I could feel that joy again as I imagined Kelsie coming home, finding me cleaning, telling me how good and useful I’d been, taking me into her room and using me for her pleasure like the good little robot I am. An audible moan escaped my lips as I clenched my thighs at that thought, eyelids fluttering. Then my thoughts caught up and I staggered backward, catching myself on a nearby chair. What the hell was that?

Clearing my head, I centered and grounded myself. Had I really just referred to myself as a good little robot? What the fuck? Why did the mere act of thinking those words send chills up my entire body? And okay, yes, I was maybe a little submissive, and maybe the thought of being used like that was pretty hot. But… but I was trying to figure something out. Something with my memory or something. I couldn’t remember things well. And there was something weird with Kelsie’s monitoring app? But, wasn’t I cleaning in order to not think about those things? So what was the problem? Maybe it would be best to at the very least just remind myself what the problem was to begin with? Turning, I set off to return toward Kelsie’s bedroom, only, wait, which way was her bedroom again? No tasks. I didn’t have any tasks there. No reason to go there. No reason to access the data on where her room was.

But wait, why was I trying to access my internal floorplan to navigate my way back there? I knew where her room was. I slept there every night next to her like a nice, obedient robot maid should. A gasp escaped my lips. Something was definitely wrong. Displays kept popping up all over my vision, telling me to clean, to cook, to obey. So many tasks. I forced my legs to move, but each step I took away from the dirty, dirty room felt awful, I wasn’t supposed to do that. I was being disobedient. Being disobedient was bad. So loud. So bright. So disorienting. Too many popups. I needed to clean. I liked cleaning. Cleaning felt good. And, well, maybe it would be best to just get these tasks out of the way. Once they were gone I could investigate this other problem freely, right? And I was supposed to not be thinking about that stuff anyway. Suddenly, automatically, I spun heel and found myself vigorously scrubbing away at a nearby coffee table. All those loud indicators were gone, just a nice, pleasant bar displaying the rooms cleanliness steadily ticking up, each tick heralding a rise in mind-numbing pleasure. A peaceful feeling passed over me, nothing put a smile on my face quite like making this house a proper home for my Mistress.

She was going to be so happy with me when she got home. I wanted Mistress to be happy, making her happy was why she made me. Maybe she’d let me cum, better yet, maybe she’d praise me. Maybe she’d pat me on the head and call me a good little robot. Then she would use me, she could fuck me, tell me who and what she wanted me to be, what she wanted me to do for her, to her. Or maybe not, maybe she’d be too tired to do any of those things. Maybe she would just turn me off for the night, so I would get back to work nice and fully refreshed tomorrow. Any and all of those things sounded so appealing, because whatever she did I’d be obeying her. My Mistress, I craved her so much. Not like a human craves a lover, but like a machine craves its purpose. It didn’t matter what she did or how she did it as long as she did it to me it would mean I was a good robot. It meant I was useful. The living room was clean; my body felt so hot. It was producing so much lubricant, its holes ready to be used. It was fortunate that I’d manage to keep it soaking through my panties. That would have made more dirt and I hated dirt. It was the antithesis of my purpose.

Still, I’d done it. I’d finished a task. Pleasure rocked through me, something was buzzing at my crotch and it felt like Mistress. A reward from her, for doing what Iwas told. The feelings grew so much more intense, the physical sensations were there of course, but the sense of satisfaction swelled beyond anything my little machine brain could comprehend. It wasn’t quite an orgasm, it was better. My whole body felt warm, melted, tingly. My mind was overwhelmed with the feeling of having obeyed Mistress. It overrode any other thought, swept aside any concerns other than those of a robot maid. Despite my body being entirely inorganic, it responded much in the same way a human’s would at a time like this. I could hardly stand, my thighs rubbed together, my pussy clenched, spraying lubricant into my panties. I was panting, moaning. My eyelids fluttered closed and my eyes rolled back into my head as the feelings completely overtook me and wiped my mind clean. Perfectly clean. As clean as the room its body stood in. As quickly as the feeling started, it subsided. Unit 3L-153 opened her eyes.

Chapter 2

All that mattered was that she knew she was good, she was useful, she was fulfilling her purpose. She had a kind owner, one who let her feel this way instead of feel nothing at all. One who gave her tasks. And now that Unit 3L-153 had finished her task, she could finally focus on… her servos whirred, trying to remember something. What was she doing before? Cleaning. Nothing else, anything else were not her memories. They belonged to someone else. And there was so much to clean. She loved cleaning. Cleaning was her job, her reason for existing. Along with cooking, sex, and whatever else her owner wanted.

And Mistress wanted so much, too. Her owner had installed an entire checklist of everything she needed her robot maid to do. So wonderful. And so convenient, Mistress had made it just about impossible for Unit 3L-153 to think for herself, after all. She was barely even a she, only holding on to a vague sense of gender because her mistress wanted a pretty, girly object. Regardless, why would she care to think for herself when it was so easy to let go of all thought save obedience? So easy to sink, to become completely enveloped in the task at hand and the pleasure, the purpose it brought.

Mistress had so much for Unit 3L-153 to do, she had only managed to clean the one room. There was a whole house to clean. Dinner needed to be cooked, too. Mistress would be hungry when she returned home. The robot maid instinctively knew exactly what she was going to cook; knowledge of the recipe, and that she had bought all the needed ingredients yesterday appeared in her memory unbidden. Not that she exactly remembered any of that, the knowledge that it had happened just existed somewhere within Unit 3L-153’s databanks, ready to be accessed when it became relevant and only then, for exactly as long as she needed it, just like everything else. So many tasks. That was Unit 3L-153’s purpose, afterall, to serve. To obey. She didn’t need to think. Mistress would be home in exactly six hours and fifty one minutes. She knew that instinctively. With that deadline in mind, she set about her next task. The pleasure shot up again, taking with it any and all fragments of conscious thought. Only the robot remained. Just obedience and pleasure, nothing else.

Three hours and twenty minutes later, the final task was completed. The house was clean, Mistress’ food was slow-cooking. Unit 3L-153 was done. Unit 3L-153 was good. Her computer brain searched for something, anything to do; she found nothing. Whatever thought left, whatever perception and comprehension of the world around her plummeted. With no purpose, there was no need for even the most basic comprehension of how to cook or clean or even how to obey. Unit 3L-153 sunk into an endless positive feedback look of pleasure and obedience, her reward for being a good pretty robot maid. A good thing. Just pleasure, just the feeling of having obeyed and succeeded.

No words, no numbers, no indicators, no purpose, no understanding. Sight and sound vanished along with smell, taste, touch. She disappeared into the void of blissful satisfaction which Mistress had created for her. Unit 3L-153 stood in the middle of the kitchen, mouth agape, drooling fluid and soaking her panties. Her hands hung limply at its sides, fingertips grazing the elaborate frilly maid uniform she had put on first thing when she woke up, like she did every day. Around her neck, her collar clung tightly to her synthetic skin. The monitoring chip embedded within it, attached to the little nameplate that simply read “Elise”, detected barely a hint of neural CPU activity. No signs of life showed in her eyes; they were glossy and empty. With no human instinct telling her to breathe, she didn’t. No purpose drove her to move, not even a millimeter, so she didn’t. Simply by existing, Unit 3L-153  was obeying, and she needed to do nothing else than just be.

An additional three hours and thirty one minutes passed and, like clockwork, the key to the front door turned in the lock, and Unit 3L-153 came to life. Light returned to her eyes, movement returned to her body. She had a new task. Her owner was home. When the door swung open, she was already waiting for Mistress with a wide, dutiful smile. “Welcome home, Mistress!” She chirped, curtsying low in her big, pretty skirt. She knew Mistress loved it when she wore clothes like this. So she did. Always. Every day. Forever.

Standing in the doorway, Mistress looked down on her creation. “Mmhh, well don’t you look so pretty. Did you do everything I asked of you?”

“Yes, Mistress!” There was no need to think of the words, Unit 3L-153 knew the correct response automatically.

A pretty, sweet smile crossed Mistress’ face, and Unit 3L-153’s whole world lit up. “Of course you did, you’re a good little robot maid, aren’t you?” She cooed, stroking Unit 3L-153’s hair affectionately. “My good little robot maid.”

A million little things fired off in her head at once. They were simply things, because her processors was too busy being completely overwhelmed and overheated to even begin to determine what was going on in her CPU. All Unit 3L-153 was able to know for certain was that Mistress had called her good, and that she was good, and that being good was good, and that good robots were good and she was a good robot and being a good robot was so, so, so, so so so so so good. “Sfgadsvcgjh,” she replied, literally. All while Mistress looked on with a sweet smile. Taking Unit 3L-153 by the hand, Mistress gently shooed her little robot maid out of the way, and led the bewildered machine into the apartment, all while Unit 3L-153’s processors continued working in overtime attempting to process anything other than how good it was to be good for her owner. Once inside, Mistress took a seat on the nearby couch, and gazed up at her creation “Have a seat and look at me, sweetheart. Calm down.” With a new command issued, Unit 3L-153 obeyed; she calmed herself, sat down beside Mistress, and cleared away the sensory overload on her mind.

“Yes, Mistress.” She repeated again, this time more simply, more emptily.

“That’s my girl,” Mistress purred, carefully avoiding the verbal pleasure trigger she’d implanted within Unit 3L-153. “Now, what shall we do tonight? Sex, obviously, but what kind?” Silence fell over the room as Mistress looked expectantly at Unit 3L-153’s empty, expressionless face and dull eyes. For her own part Unit 3L-153 didn’t think much of anything, she hadn’t been issued a recognized command, after all. A few moments later, realization dawned on Mistress’ face, her lips parted briefly, and amused twinkle sparkled in her eye, and she sighed to herself, before chuckling. “Right, with the state you’re in you’re not going to contribute much. Hmm, well, let’s just try a few and see where we land.” Mistress tapped her chin; “I guess we may as well start simple.” With a domineering grin, Mistress lay Unit 3L-153 down on her back, then spoke a single word. “Doll,” she commanded. A million little microchips in Unit 3L-153 computer brain fired at once as they processed the command, the new information, the new self.

The doll opened her eyes. She was frozen in place, incapable of moving even slightly without her owner. Just a pretty toy for her owner to pose and dress and use however she liked. She wasn’t Unit 3L-153, and she certainly wasn’t Elise. She was a happy toy, a content little doll, eager to be played with. To be dressed and undressed by her owner. Her cheeks reddened, not because she was embarrassed, but because looking all blushing and innocent was how her owner liked her dolls to look. Her glassy eyes looked straight ahead, directly at her owner, a peaceful smile plastered on her face. Just looking at her owner made the doll feel so good, not that she had any way of showing it, aside from her dripping dollie pussy. Speaking of which, her owner’s fingers were currently snaking their way under her pretty, pretty skirt, tracing the hem of her pretty, pretty panties, and rubbing at her pretty dollie pussy through the delicate lace. It felt amazing, so pleasurable, her owner’s mere touch nearly orgasmic right from the getgo. Nevertheless, the dollie did not scream, she did not moan, she did not gasp or squirm or writhe. She was perfectly still, perfectly silent, like all good dolls should be. A toy waiting to be posed by her owner.

Beneath her skirt, the doll’s owner fingers slid under the panties, and plunged their way into her slick sex, thrusting eagerly and aggressively over and over again; her thumb brushing the doll’s clit while her owner gently cooed in the doll’s ear, “that’s it, such a good toy, such a pretty dollie. Let your owner take good care of you, dress you up, sit you out on a shelf for everyone to see, for everyone to play with, for everyone to use.” The doll was in heaven, it was everything she ever could have wanted from her owner and more. Part of her never wanted to cum at all, because if she did maybe her owner would stop playing with her. She just wanted to edge forever and ever and ever, the pleasure only building, growing, the attention and adoration constant. Her purpose fulfilled. Then suddenly, her owner slowed. She wasn’t exactly frowning, but she looked troubled. “Hmm, no, this isn’t quite right. Sorry, babe, just… need something a bit more engaging I guess?” With a huff, and a moment of quiet thought, the doll’s owner directed her attention back to her toy. “Unit 3L-153,” she commanded. “It’s playtime, little one.”

Heavy lidded, glossy eyes snapped open, pupils dilated, previously frozen limbs sprung to life. There was no more doll, but she still wasn’t Unit 3L-153, and she certainly wasn’t Elise. Kitten rolled off her back and onto her hands and knees. A pair curious, but needy eyes met a pair twinkling, amused ones. Her hand rose, fingers curled inward; and she pawed pleadingly at the woman before her, chirping an inquisitive trill. “Aww,” cooed the voice above her. Soft fingers began to gently scritch behind Kitten’s ears and she collapsed forward, melting into a happy little puddle. “That’s Mommy’s good girl.” In response, Kitten simply uttered the most pitiful, whiny mewl of need as she nuzzled her Mommy’s leg and thoughtlessly licked the naked thighs before her. Above her, Kitten heard a rolling, affectionate chuckle, then scriches continued, while a second hand grasped her gently by the scruff of her neck and guided her to the place between her Mommy’s legs. Instinctively, Kitten began to mindlessly lick at the warm, wet place she found her face buried in.

The scritches continued, ensuring Kitten felt safe, and loved; each stroke of that hand felt divine on her scalp. From her throat came low, rumbling purrs, that broadcast just how happy she was to be able to elicit those delighted moans of pleasure from her Mommy. For no other reason than that some primal part of her new she was supposed to, Kitten redoubled her efforts, lapping at her Mommy’s wet sex and nuzzling her face between her thighs. Between moans, she heard more coos of encouragement and praise, she didn’t really understand the words, but she knew they were good. She knew she was good, and she was happy. A strange feeling was beginning to build in her. Being aware of anything but what was right in front of her was difficult, Kitten wasn’t meant for that. But something burned hot and wet at her center. Something needy and tingly that ached and pulsed wonderfully with each long lick of her tongue. It was as though she could feel them herself, her licks along her Mommy’s perfect, delicious pussy. And with each lick the feeling intensified, as did her enthusiasm, her greed, her need.

Just as things began to grow unbearable, she suddenly found her head pushed away. Kitten offered no resistance, whether she was consciously aware of it or not, she was a good girl and would never disobey. That didn’t keep a needy, whiney mewl from escaping her lips as she stared up at her Mommy, heat burning between her legs as she rolled and ground her hips against their bed in a desperate attempt to recapture the feeling. “Hush now, little one,” with that she grew still and quiet, though the look in her eyes never faded. Above her, Kitten’s Mommy gently grasped her chin and gazed into her sweet pet’s eyes. “Somethings wrong, I can’t place it,” she mused, tapping her chin lightly. With a sigh, Mommy leaned back, and spoke another command. “Unit 3L-153, daily status.” As though Mistress had hit pause on their play, all feeling between Unit 3L-153’s legs suddenly seemed unimport. It didn’t go away, but it faded into the background as her needy Kitten persona faded and the good, useful robot returned.

“All tasks complete, Mistress. Human Elise persona experienced heightened stress levels,” her tone was monotonous, emotionless.

“Elaborate.’

“Human Elise persona discovered lapses in memory. She grew concerned and searched Mistress’ computer for answers. Upon encountering forbidden data, her stress levels further increased, reaching near panic. Fortunately, induction was able to take place as is routine, however, an unusual amount of resistance was encountered during today's induction. It is…” there was pause, which was strange, uncertainty was not supposed to be a part of Unit 3L-153’s personality, or lack thereof. “It is possible that some of Elise’s stress and fear remains, and has interfered in my duties to—”

“Elise, wake up and remember,” Mistress’ voice was wavering, shaking with emotion. I opened my eyes.

“Whu—? Whu happun?” I slurred, my thoughts still slow and lethargic from lack of use. When I caught sight of Mistr—Kelsie—I scrambled backward, right off the bed and onto the floor with a crash. “What the fuck have you done to me?” I screamed, recoiling in fear from the woman who had bent me so completely to her own will.

“Sweetheart please, calm down, I can explain,” Kelsie replied, her voice strained by worry and tears.

“Oh what? Are you going to brainwash me again?” I snarled, rising to my feet.

“If I were going to do that why would I have woken you up? I already had complete control over you.” Admittedly, she had a point, a good enough point that I baulked, stammered, then conceded. Try as I may, I couldn’t hate Kelsie, I couldn’t even want to hate her. Desperately, I wanted there to be something she was missing. Because I loved Kelise with all my heart.

“Explain fast, and don’t even think about trying anything.”

“I think it would be better if I showed you. Memory storage access override.” That same split second, everything I had forgotten came back. All our play sessions together. All the days I’d woken up and blissfully gone about my day, slowly slipping into a mindless robotic trance, becoming a pretty little maid, ready to be played with and used when Kelise returned home from work; everything returned to me. And most importantly, I remembered how all this started. I sat down on the bed heavily.

“I wanted this,” I admitted. Kelsie nodded. “I wanted this; I asked you to mess with my code, to make me a loving, dutiful mindless maid for you to use for your pleasure.” Even saying the words sent an erotic chill through my frame. “I asked you to fuck with my memories, to restrict access to my own code so you could keep taking me deeper and deeper into the fantasy and I... oh my god. The choker, I told you to write the code to make me more and more mindless and obedient whenever I’m wearing it. And just… holy shit. This is so fucking hot,” I hissed, my thighs, slick with synthetic lubricant, rubbed together needily. Her demeanor now clearly relaxed seeing my response, Kelise grinned.

“Yeah, yeah it is. I was kind of worried about it, and we’re going to have to set some more ground rules and failsafes after today. But fuck, ordering you around like that, having you be whoever and whatever I want to be. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” She leaned back, leering at my naked form. “And you’re a very good little robot maid for your Mistress,” she whispered lasciviously. The only response Kelsie got was a wanton moan as I rolled my eyes back into my head. Panting, I steadied myself, and met Kelsie’s gaze.

“I love you so fucking much,” I said, striding forward to plant a passionate kiss on Kelsie’s lips.

“Love you too, sweetheart.” With that, she pulled me back down onto the bed, and rolled atop me. “Would you like me to put you back under?”

A thoughtful look crossed my face as I considered her options, then a mischievous smile teased my lips. “One thing I need to get straight first.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you seriously name me Unit 3L-153? You’re a fucking dork.”

Kelsie rolled her eyes. “Elise, sleep. Unit 3L-153, run mind-melting orgasm protocol. Open command line. For orgasms in protocol, while thoughts exist, cum.”

With that same teasing smile still on my lips, I happily let my consciousness slip away, my smile slowly becoming as vacant and empty as my glassy eyes. Unit 3L-153 took Elise’s place, and this night, like every night, the good, obedient little robot maid began to cum her mind away.