Executive Override

7808 words

Mr. Phillips has issues keeping calm at work. The company installs a microchip to help him stress less.

“Are you sure this is safe?” I asked the doctor. He was standing by my bedside in a hospital room. I was wearing a thin gown that made me feel decidedly less powerful than I prefer. At least I had my own room - the company had really splurged for my procedure.

“Nothing is ever totally safe,” the doctor said. “But this procedure has a 99.99% success rate, and we’ve never had an adverse outcome that resulted in anything worse than the chip not taking to your nervous system. In the very worst case, you’ll be in exactly the same situation as you’re in now.”

I bit my lip. Was it really worth it to take a risk like this? There was something vaguely creepy about implanting a chip into the base of my skull, but with the amount of stress I was under at work, the doctor’s said this was my best chance to avoid getting an ulcer before I turned 30.

I’d tried other things. My mind ran too fast for mediation to work on me. Two weeks on the beach had barely taken the edge off. And when I’d tried hot yoga, I ended up losing my shit at the instructor.

But I was on track to be the youngest vice-president at the multinational I worked for. They knew this anger and stress was just a blip on the radar. But a few people had complained to HR about ‘my tone’, so here I was, ready to let Doctor Whatshername slice open my head and connect a tiny bit of technology into my nervous system.

“There are always other options,” the Doctor said, watching the gears turn in my head. “You could consider a career change. This will help you cope, but I still don’t think you should be putting yourself under this much stress.”

I took a deep breath. It was like he knew how to push my buttons.

“Thank you Doctor,” I said. “I think we’re ready to get started.”

While they wheeled me to the operating room, I kept thinking about what he’d said. A career change. Ridiculous. I had my eye on the prize, and I wasn’t gonna stop until I achieved my goals.

They had me count backwards from ten. I remember getting as far as nine.

I was back at the office the next day. The doctors told me that it might take up to a week for the chip to kick in, and they suggested that I stay at home, get some rest. You wouldn’t think doctors would be so lazy and unmotivated. I was at my desk by 7:30, yelling at my assistant by 8:15.

“This is simply unacceptable,” I was screaming at him. His name was Jonas, only a couple years younger than me, and more than old enough to understand the difference between a quarterly report and a balance sheet. “These aren’t even the documents I asked for. I want you to go down records management, beg for someone to teach you the difference, and get back up here with the right documents by nine. Now get the fuck out of my sight.”

Jonas nodded silently and hurried out of the room. I liked that about him. I’d made a point of being a little rough on him, right from the start, and he was starting to learn. And most importantly, he was terrified of me. I loved watching him squirm.

He was back a few minutes before nine, carrying the correct pile of documents.

“You wasted my whole morning,” I said, taking the stack and verifying his work. “Don’t do it again. Now fetch me a cup of coffee, I need to power through this and be ready to present this afternoon.”

“Yes Mr. Phillips,” Jonas said, turning to get my order. I heard a soft ding, like a text message had just come in.

“Executive suggestion,” said a masculine voice in my ear. I turned my head, startled by the sound. “Coffee makes you anxious. Get a nice cup of tea instead.”

“Actually Jonas,” I called out, “Make that a green tea.”

He turned and gave me a surprised look. I hadn’t varied my order in the six months he’d been my assistant. But the chip was apparently kicking in. And it did have a point, too much coffee did make me anxious, and I’d already had a cup at home. I followed it’s instruction without thinking too hard about it.

“Is there a problem?” I asked.

“No sir, I’ll get you that tea,” Jonas said, turning and hurrying out of the room again.

I had to admit, I did feel calmer with the tea than I would have with the coffee. It had enough caffeine to keep me fueled up, but I wasn’t vibrating the way I normally would have. The morning slipped past as I got really absorbed in the presentation I was working on.

There was a soft knock on my door around noon. Jonas stepped inside. “Excuse me Mr. Phillips,” he said, “I’m taking lunch orders. Would you like anything?”

I was about to open my mouth and tell him to skip it, there was too much to do to waste time eating, when I heard that soft ping in my ear again. “Executive suggestion,” said the voice in my head. “Order a salad and a glass of tomato juice. Proper nutrition helps manage stress levels.”

I hated salad. It was goddamn rabbit food. But I opened my mouth and did it anyway. “Yeah Jonas, grab me a Caesar salad with a tomato juice. Thanks.”

“Yes sir,” he said, and closed the door softly behind him. Maybe ten minutes later I was munching on the leaves absentmindedly and sipping my tomato juice while I put the finishing touches on my powerpoint. It didn’t even taste that bad, and I had to admit that having some food in my stomach probably wasn’t a bad idea before my big meeting.

I handed a USB stick with my presentation on it to Jonas just after one. The meeting wasn’t til two, but I like to give him enough time to give it a quick proofread and then get it on the projector in the meeting room. Normally, I spend the hour running through my slides again, getting the delivery down to a science. Today, I decided that I didn’t feel nearly as uncertain as I usually did about the presentation. I had this thing. I slipped out of my office quietly, got in the elevator, and headed down to that coffee cart in the lobby instead.

“Executive suggestion,” my chip dinged while I was ordering. I felt a wave of calm wash over me at the sound.

“I’ll have the green tea,” I said to the coffee cart guy. “Thanks.”

There’s a fountain in the plaza outside our office tower. I found a fountain facing it, then removed the plastic lid from my tea and blew on it softly. The water was peaceful, white noise to drown out the busy busy of San Francisco. I contemplated the water for a long time, finishing my tea, then heading upstairs to find a washroom. I’d been drinking a lot of tea, and I liked to check my suit and tie before presenting anyhow.

I stepped back into my office about five minutes to two. Jonas looked relieved when I walked in. I could see that he had a dozen chat windows open on his monitor, and that he’d pulled up a map to try and trace my cellphone.

“I just stepped out for a break,” I said calmly.

“Of course sir. It’s time to head over to your two o’clock meeting, sir. Conference Room C. The presentation is all setup, and I’ll be seated in the back if you need any assistance,” Jonas rattled off the details like he hadn’t been frantically searching for me a moment earlier.

I heard that soft ding again. “Executive suggestion,” it said. “Compliment your employees to create a more trusting work environment.”

“Good job Jonas,” I said, taking the advice. “Sounds like you have it all in hand. Let’s head over.”

The presentation went smoothly. Incredibly smoothly, to be honest. Normally I’m a mass of energy when I’m up there, presenting to my SVP and his team. I know it’s my chance to make the impression I need to carry me to the top, and it’s basically impossible for me to calm down.

Except today. Today, I’d gotten three executive suggestions as the meeting went along. One of them just told me to take a deep breath before speaking. Another told me to make eye contact with the SVP before proceeding. The last one just asked me to put down the remote when I was done presenting – a good call too, since I’d been fidgeting with it too much.

When the meeting emptied out, my SVP stayed behind for a minute to chat. He shooed Jonas out of the room before saying “So, I see our investment is paying off already. How do you like your chip?”

I thought for a moment. “It’s uh… it’s really quite surprising,” I said. “I mean, how unobtrusive it is while making such a huge difference. I’ve been following it’s suggestions all day, and I’ve got to say, I haven’t felt this good in months.”

“That’s fairly normal,” said my SVP. “I got mine about six months ago, first one after we got out of the prototype phase. There’s a little dopamine rush it gives you whenever it gives an instruction. Like that? It was my idea. Keeps it from feeling like a nag in your head.”

“That’s really quite brilliant sir,” I said, sucking up a bit. “I hope I would have thought of that myself.”

“I’m sure you would have son,” he said. “Now, it’s Friday and you had surgery yesterday. I want you to take it easy this weekend, understand? Relax. Take some more of those suggestions, and I’m sure you’ll be good as gold by Monday.”

“Yes sir,” I said. “May I ask a question?”

“Shoot,” said the SVP.

“I know… I know this is a pricey procedure,” I said. “Why did you invest this much money into somebody at my level?”

“Hell, it’s a good buy. You’re a good worker. Smart, educated, driven. But we got complaints from your subordinates every day for the last month. Most days, someone on your staff is talking to HR before noon. They’re trying to build a case to fire you, you know. I didn’t want to just throw you on the trash heap Phillips, I wanted to give you a way out.”

“Uh, thank you sir,” I said.

“I checked with HR before this meeting,” he said. “No complaints today. Let’s keep that record going.”


I heard a soft ding. “Executive suggestion,” the chip said in my mind. “Apologizing for your behaviour isn’t admitting defeat, it’s taking responsibility and can lower the stress in a relationship.”

The SVP had his hand on the door when I said “Just one more thing sir. I wanted to apologize. I had no idea that my behaviour was impacting the team like this. I’m sorry if I’ve caused you any trouble.”

“It’s no trouble at all Phillips,” he said, swinging the door open. “You’ve got a lot of potential. I want to see you realize your goals. Besides, I’m not the one you owe an apology too.”

I headed back to my office, mentally compiling a list of names that I needed to do a little relationship building with.

Jonas sat across the table from me. We were on a rooftop patio, enjoying the view and a couple of beers. I could see that he had a tenseness to him, even through the padding of his suit, like he thought I was gonna throw him off the roof any minute. It was a few minutes before five o’clock, and the place would be filling up soon, but for the moment we had it to ourselves.

I took a long sip and sighed. I hadn’t had a beer since college, but it seemed like the right move to break the ice with Jonas. If I was right, at least half the HR complaints were from him.

“Is this a performance review sir?” Jonas asked, breaking the silence.

“No, no, nothing like that,” I said. “I’m not sure exactly where to start. I guess… I thought getting a beer together might help us learn a little more about each other. Understand each other a bit more.”

“That’s very generous sir,” Jonas said, his tension intact.

We sat quietly for a minute.

My chip quietly dinged. “Executive suggestion,” it said. “Honesty can help to break the tension in a stressful situation.”

Honesty. Huh. I could do that.

“I guess I’ve been a real asshole, huh?” I asked.

“I…uh… I’m sorry, sir?” Jonas looked bewildered. This was not my pattern and he knew it. But I guess there were a lot of firsts today.

“Relax, you don’t have to agree if you don’t want to, but we both know it’s true.”

“Thank you Mr. Phillips,” Jonas said. “It can be… a little difficult to work with you sometimes.” He held his breath like he was waiting to see how big of an axe I was going to chop him in two with.

My chip dinged again. “Executive suggestion,” it said. “Using first names can create a more relaxed atmosphere.”

“And you get the brunt of it,” I said, agreeing with his assessment. “But that’s gonna change, I think. For starters, please, call me Brad.”

“Brad, sir?”

“Next time without the sir. It’s my first name.”

We sat in silence for a few seconds. I kept waiting for that helpful ding. Maybe it could help me figure my way through this conversation.

“It just… it never occurred to me that you’d have a first name,” Jonas said. “Brad,” he repeated, trying it out in his mouth. It made me feel vulnerable, the way he said it. I hoped I didn’t regret opening this door.

“I figure it’s only fair, I call you by your first name,” I said.

“You do now,” Jonas smiled. “The first two months, you just yelled NEW KID whenever you wanted something.”

“Yeah, I shouldn’t have done that,” I said, thinking about the HR complaints.

I let the moment sit for a long time. We both drank a few sips of beer. I noticed him eyeing mine carefully, making sure he didn’t accidentally drain his before I got to the end of mine.

“Doing anything fun tonight?” I asked, trying some smalltalk.

“Yeah, I’m gonna head out with a few friends, maybe hit up a couple clubs,” Jonas said. “Nothing too wild,” he jumped to add, suddenly remembering that he was still talking to his boss. “I know you’ll need me in early tomorrow, so it’ll be an early night.”

My chip dinged again. “Executive suggestion,” it said. “When someone is putting in extra effort, award them with perks.”

“About that Jonas,” I said. He perked up, looking for all the world like a puppy. “I do need you tomorrow, but don’t worry about a suit and tie, just come in casual. Hell, we work in tech, wear a hoodie if you feel like it.” Jonas’ shoulders slumped a little, but he said thanks.

We finished off our beers, paid our tabs and headed our separate ways.

Later that evening it struck me that he thought I was going to give him the weekend off. Well, I tried, the chip should have done something to warn me about that.

I woke up the next morning at 5:30, as per usual, and swung my feet to the floor. I’ve got a nice place, the top floor of a classic looking place in Telegraph Hill. My morning routine is practically automatic. Check phone for emergencies, check email for emergencies, coffee and a pastry, a cold shower, review the news on my tablet while I style my hair and shave, suit and tie, drive to the office. Total time, two hours maximum.

I reached out for my phone, but stopped when I heard my chip ding. “Executive suggestion,” said the voice. “Avoiding electronic devices early in the morning and late at night can reduce stress.”

Which was a nice thought, but I did need to check in and make sure that nothing had happened while I slept. I reached out again and my chip dinged again. “Executive suggestion,” said the chip. “Avoiding electronics early in the morning can reduce stress.”

I guess this is the downside of any new technology. They haven’t accounted for nuance yet. It’s still all one-size-fits-all, and that meant the chip didn’t understand I actually need to check my phone.

I reached out again. That familiar ding sounded again. “Executive suggestion,” it said. “Avoid your phone to reduce stress.”

“You know what, fine,” I said, waving away the phone and heading straight for the coffee. It wasn’t like anything was going to happen on the one morning I didn’t check my phone. Honestly, there had never been anything so urgent it couldn’t wait until I was in, but I liked to know about problems before they slap me in the face.

I pulled a mug from the shelf and heard a ‘ding’ in my head. “Executive suggestion,” the masculine voice said. “Coffee can make you jittery. Try a cup of tea instead.”

It had a point there, and it wasn’t like I hadn’t felt less jumpy yesterday, so I boiled water and put a teabag in my mug instead. I glanced at the pastry box on my counter and pulled out a donut. It felt early to be eating, I hadn’t spent twenty minutes scrubbing my email and checking my call history. I stepped out onto my terrace and watched the sun rise, the steam from my tea making lazy patterns in the air.

Eventually I headed inside and started running a shower. The ding sounded again. “Executive suggestion,” the chip said. “A hot shower relaxes the muscles and encourages creativity.”

That one wasn’t a hard sell. I take cold showers because my Dad always told me that’s how to be a man, but I didn’t need anymore permission that the chip to enjoy it as a luxury for once. I soaked under the showerhead for a good fifteen minutes.

I felt great as I finished my shave. The chip had told me to stay off electronics, and I figured that included my tablet, so I took the time and gave myself a really good shave.

I headed to the closet for a fresh suit when my chip dinged again. “Executive suggestion. Put a gym bag in your trunk so you can workout anytime you need.”

I thought it over while I buttoned up my shirt and picked a tie. That actually wasn’t a stupid idea. I tossed a duffle bag on the bed and put a few pairs of workout clothes into it. I added a pair of running shoes, then got back to tying up my real shoes.

I left the house with my shoulder bag in the passenger seat and my new gymbag safely rolling around in my trunk. I drove a few blocks before my chip dinged again. “Executive suggestion,” the voice said. “Working out first thing in the morning helps start your day off in a carefree place.”

I ignored the voice, preferring to fiddle with my phone. There’s this podcast I listen to about managing teams, and my morning commute is where I schedule it in.

Another ding. “Executive suggestion,” the voice repeated. “Work out first thing in the morning to be carefree.”

I kept ignoring the chip. My podcast was droning on about team building structures, and I was loving it.

It gave yet another ding. “Executive suggestion,” the voice pleaded. “Have a carefree workout in the morning.”

I pushed the thought aside. Man, I knew I could turn off this chip with a simple command from my phone, but it was so useful. Like having a sociopath inside your head who could give you the best moves. So useful, but it was starting to get annoying.

Three dings went off in my head. “Executive override,” said the voice. Three more dings repeated.

That was new.

I felt my hands on the wheel making a turn I didn’t expect. My foot on the gas and the brake, guiding us off my path to the office. In just a minute, I had pulled into the packing lot of a chain gym. I recognized it from driving by, but I’d never been here before.

I confidently grabbed my duffel bag from the trunk and strode inside.

“Hey, I’d like to sign up for a membership,” I said to the guy at the counter.

“Cool man. I need you to fill out a form. Just a sec, k?” he asked.

“Sure thing,” I said.

I watched the college aged jock search around the counter for whatever paperwork I needed. I struck up a conversation, just to lessen the awkwardness. “Working here to pay for school?” I asked.

“Nah man, I probably should, but I’m just workin’ right now. I thought about maybe applying, but schools stressful, you know? Easier to do this.”

“For sure,” I said, not really understanding. But I also didn’t understand why i was signing up for a gym. I didn’t understand why I’d driven here. Every action felt normal and natural and I was not the one driving this body at all.

Eventually the gym bro found the papers and I filled out a short form and handed over my credit card. Ten minutes later, I was roving that gym like I owned the place. That’s not how I felt at all. I was completely freaked out. An observer in my own body.

An observer who, none the less, had to observe every muscle busting motion and weight that the chip was forcing me through. Squats, bench, deadlift, and a dozen smaller motions. It seemed intent on breaking me down to very small pieces.

Don’t get me wrong - I looked awesome. I’ve got a membership at a fancy health club, but I almost never use it because I just look like a schlub in the gym. Today I looked like I belonged there.

I showered and dressed, though I hesitated when I got to my tie. I ended up jamming my tie into my gym bag and carrying my coat out over my arm. The dress shirt with a couple buttons undone was making me look good today, and I didn’t see any reason in ruining the look.

I dropped my bag in the trunk and sat back in the drivers seat. The moment I was there, I felt my body… not release, but suddenly it was waiting on me for input. I seized my freedom and grabbed for my phone. It was almost 9:30. I hit the gas and headed for the office as fast as I could.

“Executive suggestion,” said my chip. “Take deep breaths to lower your heartrate.”

“Good morning, uh, Brad,” Jonas said as I barged down the hall.

“Good morning,” I said. “I’m sorry I’m late, was there anything on the calendar this morning that I’ve missed.”

“Yes, you had a meeting with Mr. Matthews at 8:30. I called ahead and let them know you’d had an emergency and we would have to reschedule. You’re on with him for 11:30 instead. Your next meeting is in 15 minutes, an hour with Mr. Gibson and Mr. Salvatori to discuss strategic initiatives for the Q2.”

“Thank you Jonas,” I said, and for once I think I meant it. I looked him over - he’d opted for a nice pair of jeans and a nondescript black T as a relaxed look for the day. I had to admit, it was a jarring change from the usual suit I insisted on. Instead of looking like a boy playing in his father’s clothes, Jonas revealed himself to be a good looking 26 year old who clearly went to the gym more than he let on.

“I’m just going to drop my things and then you can come in to brief me.

I spent a minute arranging myself and trying to sort my thoughts. What had happened to me? I couldn’t believe the way the chip had just violated me. Taken over my body and forced me to… what? A brutal workout session? It seemed like it had my best interests at heart, even if I wasn’t particularly happy with the result.

Maybe it needed an adjustment. I’d have Jonas call the doctor. No, Jonas didn’t know I’d had the surgery, I didn’t want to look weak, I’d have to remember and call myself.

I sat down at my desk and opened up my laptop. There was a steaming cup of green tea on the desk. I wondered how many cups had gone to waste, going cold while I was at the gym.

“Do you have the file for my 10:00,” I called out to Jonas.

“I’ve got it here Brad, just a moment.”

Yeah, that sounded wrong. I missed the days of Mr. Phillips, even it was just yesterday.

We were walking towards the conference room when I heard my next ding. “Executive suggestion,” said the voice. “Compliment your coworkers regularly to build good will.”

That made sense, and I didn’t want to end up being overridden and forced to spout compliments all day, so I acquiesced to the suggestion.

“Jonas,” I said, rounding the corner to the conference room. “I gotta say, that shirt looks great on you.” Before he could respond, we were in the meeting.

I’d finished up my meetings for the day and was feeling like I’d been really productive. I was feeling good too, I hadn’t gotten too wound up all day. Last week I sent two girls from the cleaning staff home crying, but today nobody seemed to trigger my rage.

Lucky for me. I thought about those HR files that could impact my career. It wouldn’t take much to tip me over the edge.

“I think I’m ready to wrap up,” I told Jonas as I handed off the last file. “Doing anything fun tonight?”

“Um… sir?”

“Enough of this sir stuff,” I said. “Call me Brad.”

“Okay… um… Brad. Are you… fuck, I don’t know how to ask this. Are you asking me out?” Jonas said.

“What? No, no, what?”

“Just, between beers last night and ‘call me Brad’ and making comments on how I look… I was starting to wonder if you were… I guess, hitting on me. Weirder things have happened. And I know this happens sometimes, where a boss hits on their assistant or whatever…” Jonas trailed off.

I heard a ding in the air. “Executive suggestion,” the masculine voice said. “Sex with a coworker can help to break office tension, but make sure it’s discrete.”

I couldn’t believe what it was saying. Was I an asshole and a yeller and probably the cause of more stress than I received… yeah. But was I a sexual harasser, no way. I’d attended far too many training seminars for guys who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. They send everyone, since you can’t really tell who’s who until HR hears the complaints.

“Brad?” Jonas asked, my pause evidently too long.

Another ding. “Executive suggestion,” it repeated. “Go ahead, have sex with a coworker, but keep it discrete.”

“Yeah, I uh…” I thought frantically, trying to figure out how to fulfill he suggestion while avoiding the intent. I remembered what happened at the gym this morning, the autopilot I’d experienced.

I heard another ding. “Executive suggestion,” the chip said. “Bang the hottie. Keep it discrete.”

“Brad, are you okay?” Jonas said, giving me a really concerned look.

I heard three dings in a row.

“Executive override,” the chip announced.

Three more dings and I was an observer again.

“Yeah Jonas, I’m fine. Thank you for checking,” I said. “I’m just a little embarrassed. I don’t mean to creep on you, and I’ll respect your wishes if you’d rather I wasn’t interested, but it’s hard to watch you out there every day and not see how handsome you are.”

Jonas flushed a deep red. I would have too, had I been in control of my emotions. I felt intense passion, sweeping me along like a tsunami against a sandcastle.

“You’re not worried I’ll report you to HR again?” he asked.

“I’m more worried I’ll miss out on sucking your thick cock,” I said, feeling the grin plastered over my face.

“We should… we should close the door,” Jonas stuttered.

“Lock it,” I said. “And then get naked. I want to see you.”

Jonas swung the door shut and I heard the deadbolt slide into place. Then he grabbed his shirt by the hem and smoothly removed it over his head. A moment later his brown leather shoes were kicked off, and his fashionable jeans were crumpled on the floor.

He stood in front of me with only that fratboy body and an eager grin. I guess underwear hadn’t been on his priority list this morning. Maybe his night out had been longer than I thought.

I knelt down in front of him, practically diving onto his dick with my face. It was thick. Musky. Bigger than I’d expect from a man who called me ‘Sir’ for six months.

I sucked up and down it, taking his balls in my mouth and enjoying their earthy scent. It wasn’t long before he had his hands planted on my shoulders, and was fucking my face with an intensity I wished I’d see in his work.

We were fairly quiet, but Jonas practically slapped a hand over his mouth when there was a sudden knock at the door. I could see a shadow through the frosted glass. I almost yelped, but luckily I was gagged with Jonas’ horsecock.

“Phillips, you in there?” It was one of our SVP’s, the same one I’d presented to yesterday. He must have come by with some notes and found…

Nothing really. He found a locked door. He slipped a bundle of papers under the crack, even as Jonas blasted a stream of cum down my throat. He let out a soft moan as the footsteps receded. With luck, nobody would ever know.

Jonas and I fell beside each other on the floor, both of us spent from the adrenaline and the orgasm.

He started laughing. “I can’t believe that just happened,” Jonas giggled. “That was my uncle.”

“I’m sorry, Paul McKay is your uncle?”

“How do you think I got the job,” Jonas smiled, playfully smearing a little of the cum that was still on my face. “He loves this company. Even got this little microchip implanted so that the company could make him more prudent. He was always making stupid decisions, then they put this little chip in his head and boom, he’s been the most well reasoned guy you’ve ever met. They just slip it in here,” he said, tracing around my head to the base of my neck.

I winced. There was still a little line from where they’d done the surgery. It would heal up eventually, but I’d had the chip in my head for less than two days.

“Oh my god,” Jonas said. “You’ve got one too?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “Just a couple days ago. This one’s tuned to make me less stressed.”

Jonas laughed. “I guess that explains the green tea and sudden humanity,” he said. “Do you have the Revision A chip, or the Revision B? They rolled out the B last month, and I hear they fixed a lot of the initial bugs. My uncle has an A, so there are some really funny pranks you can pull on him.”

“Like what?”

“Like if you set him up with a choice, he’ll always choose the more prudent route. So you can give him a false dichotomy, right, and he’ll choose whatever you tell him to do. Thinks it’s a great idea too in the end. Sometimes he twitches a little, but he gets over it.”

“A false dichotomy…” I repeated slowly.

“Yeah, like yours is about being less stressed, right? So if I said ‘Brad, you have two choices, you can either launch yourself into orbit, or you can take me out clubbing tonight, you’d say –“

“Wait…” I said. I heard a ding.

“Executive suggestion,” the chip said. “Take Jonas out clubbing tonight. It’s less stressful than launching into orbit.”

“You said they fixed it in the Rev B?” I asked.

“Yup,” Jonas said. “Why, you got a little voice in your head telling you something?”
 “Executive suggestion,” the chip interrupted. “Take Jonas out clubbing tonight.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I wanna take you out clubbing tonight. Please say yes.”

“I’d love to,” Jonas grinned. “Looks like you’ve got a Rev A chip.”

We got up and did our best to clean up. I used a couple of Kleenex to wipe the cum off my face and try to make myself presentable again. Over and over, I tried taking control, seeing if I was driving my body again. I couldn’t make anything follow my directions. It seemed my override to ‘bang the hottie and keep it discrete’ was still in effect.

Great, even the computers were claiming that oral didn’t really count as sex.

“You can’t go out like that though,” Jonas said. “It’s still plenty early. Let’s go shopping, then maybe do some grooming,” he said, delighted to be in charge. If you ask me, he got onboard this ‘Brad can’t control himself’ train just a little too quick.

“Why don’t we just go back to my place and fuck first,” I said.

“Whoa boy,” Jonas laughed. “Save it for the end of the night. Now Brad, you have to choices. Do you want to go shopping with me for club clothes, or do you want to hike through Death Valley.”

My chip dinged. “Executive suggestion,” it voiced. “Shopping can relieve stress much more than Death Valley.”

My body gave a charmingly exaggerated shrug. “I guess you got me,” I said.

I didn’t know there were that many shades of neon, and Jonas made me try on every single one. While we shopped, he asked me to tell him about what had happened since I got the chip. I figured there was no point in trying to hide it, he could just make it an order, so I spilled my guts about the weird couple of days I’d been having.

“That’s where you were?” Jonas laughed easily. “You went to the gym for two hours and I had to move all your meetings? Wow. I don’t think you ever would have done that before your chip.”

“Yeah, and the stupid thing is I felt really good after.”

“Think you’ll do it again?”

“Fuck, I don’t know. I guess, maybe.”

“Well, you’ve got a good base to build off,” Jonas said, looking critically at my body. “And you know, that’s the same gym I go to sometimes, though this time of year I’m more about the beach, you know?” he grinned.

“Do you think this one looks good on me?” I asked, modelling a pair of red shorts and a white tanktop. I looked like some 80’s roller derby contestant. The tank top was stretched across my chest thin enough to show off my body hair, and it said “LUCKY” on the front.

“Mmmm, I like it, but it needs more.”

Would you believe that store stocks vintage roller skates? And would you believe they’ll let you wear them into some clubs?

Jonas and I stumbled against the doorway of my condo. We were both super drunk, but I was determined to bang the hottie. I’d spent the evening dancing close to him, making sure that he could feel my smooth body against his skin.

You’ll notice I said smooth. After we finished shopping, Jonas had me order supper to my place while we shaved off every hair under my eyebrows. I had always put a lot of effort into being ‘not that kind of gay’, and it was freaking me out to suddenly be wearing nothing but a pair of too tight red shorts and vintage roller skates on the dance floor. Jonas, it seemed, spent a lot of his time outside of the office being exactly that kind of gay, so it seemed I’d unwillingly acquired a guide.

It also turns out that the drunker Jonas gets, the more he grinds his ass up against my barely contained cock. So at last call, once I felt we’d spent the whole night out clubbing, I called an Uber and took his drunk ass back to my place.

I practically dragged him to my bedroom. He was all to eager to wave his ass in my face while I lubed up my cock and thrust into him with it. I’d been worried about whisky dick, but apparently my order to bang the hottie meant that I had no problem getting the blood flowing.

“I wanna fuck you,” I said, thrusting into his hole over and over. “I wanna fuck you Jonas, over and over. I gotta bang the hottie and keep it discrete,” I mumbled, drunk thoughts spilling out with startling speed. Below me, Jonas just moaned and shot his own load. Moments later, I was shooting mine.

And then I was finally me again. I could decide to go to the kitchen and get a glass of water. I could eat a donut if I wanted. I didn’t have any little fucking chip pushing me around.

It wasn’t pushing me around anymore. I realized what that meant.

I could turn it off from my phone.

I found my phone on the kitchen counter. No missed calls. Weird, Jonas had insisted I leave it here, because there wasn’t really room in my shorts for it anyhow. Which made sense, and also it reduced stress to avoid electronics in the evening, so why would I bring it?

I pulled up the little app they’d made me download when I got the chip. There was a little toggle right there. One tap and I’d be free.


“Executive suggestion,” said the chip. “The Neuratron Configurable Multipurpose Chip helps you live a balanced life. You will not disable it.”

“Fuck you,” I said.

“Executive suggestion,” it repeated. “The NCM Chip helps you lead a less stressful life. Leave it active.”

I glanced back at Jonas, lying in my bed. It had been nice, to go here on holiday, but it was the right choice to disable the chip.

“Executive suggestion,” it repeated. “Make no attempt to interfere with the functioning of your chip.”

I must have let my drunken eyes linger on Jonas for a second too long, because I heard those three ominous dings too soon.

“Executive override,” the chip stated flatly.

I stabbed for the button.

Three more dings, and my finger stopped a quarter inch short of ending it all.

I closed the app and put down my phone. Once I’d put the phone back on the counter, I seemed to be in control of my actions again, but I knew with a sick feeling that there was no going back to last week anymore.

I looked at the clock. I had to get to bed. My alarm would be going off in a few hours.

My alarm went off at 5:30, and my feet touched the ground before I turned it off. Jonas was snoring next to me, vaguely waking up and mumbling something about not wanting to get ready yet.

I fixed myself a green tea and a croissant. That seemed to satisfy my chip. It didn’t suggest anything as long as I followed the new habits it had already suggested. I left my phone on the counter, tempted by the thought of another attempt at disabling my chip. But I knew it couldn’t work. I knew I had to go outside and watch the sun come up and drink my green tea and stretch my aching muscles.

A hot shower helped sooth and loosen my muscles. I left the house around 7:30, duffel bag in tow, and headed to the gym. I tried to resist it this time, but at 7:30, three dings sounded in my head and I heard the voice say “Executive override. Have a carefree workout in the morning.” And boom, I was out the door, headed off to absolutely murder my back and biceps.

When I got home after, Jonas was sitting in my kitchen, eating my donuts, and playing on my phone. I know you’re not supposed to give out your password, but Jonas was my assistant. He used my phone all the time when I needed something quick done on it.

“Morning Brad,” he said. “Good workout this morning? Your calendar says you’re scheduled for one every morning at 7:30 for like five years. How much did you resist the suggestion anyway?” Jonas asked.

“You can see a calendar?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m just in the app for the chip. You can pull up your calendar, see what suggestions had to turn into override commands, the whole thing. Hell, I could even deactivate your chip right now, if that’s what you wanted.”

I tried to say something. To tell him that was exactly what I wanted. But the same strange compulsion prevented my from interfering with the operation of the chip.

“From the look on your face, I’d guess you already tried?” Jonas asked.

I smoothed out my face into an empty-headed look. I didn’t want to accidentally interfere.

“Just say the word Brad, and I’ll turn it off,” Jonas smiled a wicked grin at me.

Six months later, and here’s my schedule now.

I get up at 11 AM exactly. Jonas managed to move my gym schedule, so I don’t go there until 11:30. Really, I get up, drink a high-protein vegan smoothie, take a dump and a shower, and run out the door. Jonas helped me move above the gym, so it’s a quick commute now.

I’m out by one, then it’s all about the protein window and making sure I can pack on as much mass as possible. I’m in pretty good shape now, but Jonas is aiming to make me Instagram famous, so I’m going to need boulder shoulders and those overhanging pecs that every bodybuilder covets.

I usually get home around three, and that’s my opportunity to do my own thing for a bit, just as long as it’s shopping, grooming, or practicing with my dildo.

This all seems impossible with my job, right? Well, Jonas had me quit that months ago. He said I needed the time to focus on my looks. And the rumour from his uncle was that they weren’t sorry to see me go. I wondered if they’d given me an Revision A chip just hoping I’d get in a feedback loop and quit.

Besides, Jonas makes more than enough money for both of us. That’s how nepotism works.

Jonas gets home at six, and I need to have supper waiting for him on the table. Sometimes he goes out with his friends, so I eat alone and browse muscle magazines. I can’t read the words anymore, but I can still look at the pictures, and I can name every muscle. I’m really getting into this bodybuilding stuff.

Truth be told, we usually eat supper cold. I have to fuck someone everyday between 5:30 and 8, and if Jonas decides to bail on me, I end up trawling Grindr for whoever can come over fast enough.

My supper is usually just a salad and a protein shake anyhow. I take my diet like… really seriously now.

My shift at the club starts at eight. I need to be there before opening to have time to apply all the glitter and makeup to my rapidly growing body. Apparently Jonas gave his uncle an impossible choice and got three of the other gogo boys here chipped too. That was enough to guarantee a job for as long as I needed it.

And I needed it. I needed to dance for hours every night. I needed to show off my body to strangers and have them lust after me. I hadn’t wanted to at first, but Jonas had made it an override, and now I don’t have a choice. Though, I’ll admit, it’s starting to become so natural to feel the intense pleasure that it brings that I’m not sure if it’s the override that loves being slutty or me.

They introduce me on stage as Chip.

I get off work at 2:30 in the morning, with my thong stuffed with tips. The boss has a rule, anything you can carry out in a thong is tax free.

That gives me just enough time to make it home for bedtime.

I don’t shower the smell of the club off me or anything. Jonas likes it, and he makes the decisions around here.

I don’t stress about anything.

Mind control
Wanking material
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