Emma rocked back and forth as the Bimbo-chip’s pleasure pulse rewarded her for her correct thought-form. Yes, she loved how it kept spiking her arousal. The part of her still capable of analytical thought had realised a long time ago that she was being re-written, new neural pathways growing as old ones were laid to waste.
New drives and urges were being slowly cemented in place, as the harvested meta-data of a million different letches and pervert’s browsing habits were compiled and squeezed into her mind. Panties lay at her ankles, soaked with arousal as she plunged her fingers into her needy snatch, teasing herself over and over, as the image of gang-bangs, cream pies and breast jobs filled her hormone soaked mind.
She didn’t know she could be so aroused without cumming, but she loved every second of what was being done to her. The chip installed into the back of her neck made sure of it, having installed an overwhelming fetish for brainwashing that had burst through her resistance like a speeding bullet.
Everything else just happened to flow through that same hole it had formed in her mental defences.
Trembling with arousal, she eased off, not wanting to tip herself over the edge prematurely. No, that wouldn’t do. She wanted its control over her to be total. She would help it along, like an obedient girl, and mould herself into the slut it was programming her to be.
Emma felt her cunt quiver at the thought, flashes of erotic potential pinging around the inside of her mind, and there was no other to voice her acceptance than with a guttural moan of need.
It hadn’t always been like this.
Hours ago, she had been an aspiring cybernetic engineer student hell-bent on making a name for herself in the rapidly expanding field of human augmentation. A keen intelligence and a childhood sitting on her father’s lap whilst watching old sci-fi shows had bred curiosity, and curiosity had turned into the pursuit of the bridge between humanity and electronics. Compassion had seen her slide into the medical field, hoping to produce evolutionary steps that would benefit those whose bodies and minds had broken beyond the ability for natural medicine to repair.
But she had run afoul of internal politics, and found herself threatened with budget cuts.
She had been determined to show them the error of her ways, and whilst the initial bonding had been painful, showing them that the technology was more than just a theory and a prototype had been worth it.
Except someone had altered the bios without her knowing. Someone had altered the code on her computer, injecting the corruption into her on a level that she had no way to fight.
The old her would have been furious at what she was being subjected to, but this new, more fun-loving her worshipped the mysterious benefactors had done to her mind, body and soul.
Gone were the worries about deadlines, meetings, and having to justify her projects to the board of directors without the vision to see the value of her research.
Gone was the frumpy her, replaced by a girl whose only worry was finding enough cocks to jam into every hole.
That single thought triggered part of her new programming, the whine building in her throat as she searched for the VR headset she needed to complete the feedback loop. She rushed, scattering papers that once had been important to her; papers she was no longer capable of understanding as the chip dialled back her IQ to make her a better pleasure puppet for what was to come.
Her room was a mess by the time she found it laying under the table, next to the computer. She giggled to herself, realising what a ditzy girl she must have been to not look there in the first place, and as it she sat back down, and mounted it on top of her head, she realised she could no longer tell if thee impulses were of her own volition, or if the chip had somehow layered it into her psyche, growing the need to sacrifice all in order to feel that empty-headed bliss.
Truth be told, she no longer cared, wanting to erase any distinction between her and the chip which laid claim to her, discarding the thought as she sat down and waited or the headset to receive the chip’s wireless handshake.
A tingling buzz filled her head as the feedback loop completed, and the visor sprang to life, filling her entire world with wonderful swirls that tugged at her to submit.
Smiling to herself, she relaxed, continuing to stroke back and forth over her lips, feeding the need of her greedy cunt that demanded stimulation.
Pleasure equalled programming, and programming equalled pleasure.
A single, self-referring train of logic that left her fingers slick with wetness as she become more and more sensitive to touch. She still ached to orgasm, but the obedience needed to edge had been one of the first subroutines installed, making it so hard to resist anything that came after.
The speakers over each ear hissed to life, a soft feminine voice holding all the promise of sweet enslavement pipped into Emma’s ready ears.
“Relax,” ordered the voice.
Emma felt herself slump slightly, every muscle suddenly being filled with a deep and eternal heaviness that crept into her very soul. Hours of unconscious tension flowed out with every breath as she surrendered herself to the sensation.
“You will obey,” came the next order, brooking no argument.
“I obey.” Emma whispered, the headset’s microphone picking up the permission and allowing the process to continue.
Emma whined a little, grinding against the seat to try as her fingers went to work teasing her glistening sex up and down with languid strokes, sometimes dipping in to explore further but always pulling back once the pleasure threatened to spike.
“I obey my chip” She repeated, her voice dripping with arousal.
“You want to help your chip to take control,”
Oh, god, she did. She really, really did. She let her fingers find her clit, delicately teasing it as she imagined the chip’s tendrils growing deeper into her brain, wrapping itself around her very core and never letting go.
“You want this. You need this.” Continued the voice, cool and calm.
“I want this… I need this…” Emma responded, her eyes glazing over as her face became increasingly slack, the process automating her as much as it was automating itself.
“Good girl,” praised the voice.
Emma grunted softly, chasing the ghost of the promised orgasm echoing throughout her mind in reward for the correct thought patterns. She had become the moth to the chip’s flame, circling it and getting closer and closer until it burnt her up and something better was reborn in her place.
Emma didn’t care; Emma obeyed.
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