None of the girls trusted me yet. Phase 1 was all about them bonding with each other. Before I collected them, they never would have been so casual with each other. Two weeks in, it was becoming a different story. I started Phase 2 last week. The subliminals were slowly breaking down their resistence toward me. Melissa, the girl in the middle was getting close. And once she fell, the others would follow shortly. From there, it would be Phase 3. I like Phase 3, because I get to turn the girls into perfect little bimbos. After that, who knows. I usually sell the girls off to wealthy businessmen looking for trophy wives. But I might hold onto Melissa. There’s something about her I really like.
I really really really really want to write a story for this picture but I can’t come up with anything. Will one of you other authors take a stab?! :)
I looked down at Caitlyn, now Kitten, and saw no trace of my former rival. We had succeeded in training her fiercely competitive and somewhat bitchy personality completely away, leaving her soft, vacant and demure.
She had resisted at first, of course—who wouldn’t, especially once I told her my plans for her—but we managed to break her after several weeks of restraint, sensory deprivation and heavy psychotropic drugs.
After that, it was fairly easy. We scheduled her for some routine and some somewhat experimental surgeries, remade her look a bit and used hours upon hours of hypnosis to turn her into this. Now she was a cute little empty headed piece of fluff, eager to please and no longer any threat to me.
I laughed, thinking back to her futile efforts to resist her fate. She had lamely tried to turn my partners against me at one point. But I knew she’d fail on all counts. My will was stronger than hers and besides, I paid my partners too well for them to abandon the project. I even promised them use of her when we were all done, something Kitten seemed to enjoy immensely. I sometimes wondered if Stockholm Syndrome had set in at some point.
My reverie was broken, however, when my partner Bill and his two associates entered the room uninvited. They weren’t smiling but they looked strangely determined.
I was about to ask them what was wrong when I felt a sharp jab in my hip. I looked down and watched as one of the associates depressed the plunger on the syringe. And then everything just…faded.
I regret it every day. People look at us and think I’m a lucky guy to be with a girl like her, especially since I’m nothing special, but they don’t know. I complain about how hard it is to date a girl like her and people either tell me I’m crazy or that I should leave. She’d be fine.
But they’re wrong. She needs my help and I owe it to her for what I did.
Sara was my best friend. We grew up together and were both huge nerds all through school. I was into sci fi and she was huge into fantasy so we didn’t always see eye to eye when it came to things, but as social outcasts, our friendship was strong.
She came to me one day with a little glass ball and told me it was magic. Sure. Magic didn’t exist, I told her. She rolled her eyes and shoved it in my hand, begging me to just try.
I laughed and told her she was silly. Here we go again, arguing over who’s nerdy interest was more fascinating. She was persistent, though, so I jokingly said, “fine, I wish you were a beautiful blonde, but dumb as rocks.”
The look of shock on her face made me feel bad. She really believed the stupid thing was magic.
Then I noticed her hair starting to change. It grew rapidly and lightened to blonde as her entire body began to reshape itself. Holy shit.
I couldn’t believe it. I just watched, stupidly, as she filled out and her eyes started to glaze over a little. She stumbled a little as her center of gravity or something shifted…or maybe it was just that she stood differently than she was used to. Either way, I reached out to prevent her fall.
She didn’t fall, but the glass ball did. Hopelessly I watched as it fell and shattered on the floor.
Like I said, I regret it every day. But she needs me now, and helping her is the least I can do.
When you first develop mind control abilities, you’re excited. How could you not be? It’s a staggering amount of power, even though early on, you’re relatively weak. You don’t know that, though. You just know that you can influence people, direct them, manipulate them. For me, that was the best part. The early days, when it was brand new and I was just learning how to best use the gift I suddenly had.
I’m not going to delude myself into thinking that you’d be interested in hearing my whole story. Trust me, you can probably guess about all of it. I used my powers for three things, basically - to gain influence and standing, to make money, and to get laid. In the beginning, it was exciting. The thrill of figuring out how to work around someone, how to get what I wanted from them. How to twist and turn them until they’re my personal little puppet. Getting them to forget the goals and morals and priorities they used to have, and replacing all of those with the desire to serve me. You can only imagine what a rush that was.
Then things changed. Long story short? I got too good at it. Put somebody in my way, and I had them wrapped around my finger in days. I’d see a good-looking woman walking down the street, and within minutes she was hanging on my arm, following me like a puppy. It was fantastic, of course. I had everything I wanted. I had more money than I knew what to do with, and I had small harems of gorgeous women all over the world. Who could possibly complain about that life, right?
Well, me. I was bored. There was no challenge. I could have literally anything I wanted. I tried shaking things up - I ran a Fortune 500 company for a while, using my influence to make it among the most profitable on the planet. You’ve purchased something from me, believe me. Nearly everybody has. I saw to that. That got boring, though, so I stepped down. I nearly got myself elected president of a smallish European nation, just to see if I could. I removed myself from the race, though, once I saw how easy it would be. Politics themselves don’t interest me, just the power they allow. I can have that without the boring, hard-work side.
Nowadays, I’m a man of leisure. My current fancy is creating an environment where I deal with nothing but completely obedient, drop-dead gorgeous women. It seemed like a worthwhile endeavor at the time. See, the idea was to create a place where literally everyone belonged to me. Nothing big, just some small town tucked in the middle of nowhere in middle America or something. A place where I would basically be a god. (Side note: tried that once. There’s still a tiny cult running around somewhere that literally worships me. Not all it’s cracked up to be, let me tell you.)
Anyway, I spent some time traveling the globe, recruiting. I’d find a woman who seemed suitable - basically, beautiful enough that she earned a place in my personal Eden. When I found one, I’d simply approach her and take control. I’d give her a task - after all, I’m looking for a fully-functioning town. I need doctors, mechanics, grocery store cashiers, the works. So I find a girl I want, assign her a job, and she sets off to learn what she needs to know. (I’m pretty sure one of the girls I assigned ‘doctor’ to was previously a lingerie model. Not that it matters - she’ll do whatever I want, up to and including devoting her every waking moment to becoming a world-class surgeon.) It’s taken a long damn time. The logistics alone are staggering. It’s not a small project, but then again, that was kind of the point.
I’m heading there this afternoon. My personal airline (staffed exclusively by staggering beautiful girls, obviously - haven’t you been paying attention?) is all set to make our first flight there today. It’s not done, but I think it’ll be fun to set up shop, see how things have been running without me, and welcome the new neighbors as the remaining girls move to town.
Hopefully this keeps me entertained for a while. I’m running out of projects.
Michaela was pretty annoyed about being here. Glasses? Seriously? That was going to ruin her whole look. She’d considered contacts, but the idea of putting something directly onto her own eyeball just… eughhh. Too creepy. So for a long time she just ignored the blurry vision, the difficulty reading, the headaches. Better than looking like a huge nerd, right?
But then she’d been pulled over for speeding. Turned out her license had expired. She hadn’t realized - who had time to pay attention to crap like that? When she went to renew it, she failed the eye exam. Miserably. One thing led to another, and she was left with a pile of fines, and the threat of losing her license unless she got corrective lenses.
So here she was, waiting in the optometrist’s exam room, annoyed and indignant. What was the big deal? So she had a hard time reading words at a distance. It’s not like she couldn’t see cars, they were friggin’ huge! So stupid.
The doctor came in, bustling about, setting right to work. He mumbled a greeting while his back was turned, shutting off the lights. He was an older guy, kind of disheveled and distracted. He flicked on a projector, the classic display of letters of decreasing size appearing on the far wall. “Okay,” he said, not looking up from his notepad, “tell me what you can see.”
Michaela huffed a little, unimpressed by the doctor’s completely disengaged and unprofessional attitude. “E,” she said, allowing her voice to express her frustration, “F, K, I, B. I can’t read the next line.”
The doctor looked up, glancing at the display. “Really?”
"Yes, really!" Michaela snapped.
He turned, glancing at her, seeming to notice her for the first time. “You know, I’m not really taking new patients at the moment,” he said, sounding like he was just realizing something. “Who was it that recommended you?”
"Some guy at the DMV," Michaela answered, not bothering to keep the ice out of her voice. "I don’t know his name or anything.”
The doctor nodded, tossing his notepad aside. “I see, I see. Yes, that makes more sense. Well, miss… ah…”
Michaela rolled her eyes. “Rosen.”
"Miss Rosen, of course. Well, let’s try something different. Look here, please." He guided her chin onto a support, tilting her head forwards so we was looking into some kind of gadget. The rubber scope she looked into wrapped all around her face, so she saw nothing but darkness. "Alright," the doctor said, "in three, two… one."
A series of quick flashes all but blinded her. Before she could react, there were two more. The last ones were somehow more intense than she expected. They made her feel like she was losing her balance, as though they’d messed with her inner ear somehow. Like they’d flashed right into her brain. She felt dizzy, disoriented.
The doctor pulled the gadget away, gesturing towards the wall. “Can you read the letters there, please?”
Michaela stared. The pinkish-yellow afterimages obscured her vision. The letters swam. “I, uh… I can’t really, uhm, see…” she said. Her words felt elusive, and speech was difficult. She felt sluggish, confused.
The doctor nodded, pressing a button. The dim light in the room changed, taking on a pinkish hue. “Focus, please, Miss Rosen. Read the letters for me, please?”
Michaela felt dizzy. Something was very wrong here, she knew that. But the doctor was acting as though everything was normal, and maybe if she just read the letters and got through this, everything would be fine. “I,” she said, some of them coming into focus. “A, M, A, B… I, M…” Her voice trailed off as the letters blurred.
The doctor adjusted something, the lights shifting again. “Very good,” he said, voice soft. “Please, continue if you can.”
Michaela watched the letters drift into focus. “B… O… D…” she said. Everything outside of the letters was getting dim, dark. It was like staring down a tunnel. It was hard to think. “U… M, B, D… um, I… T…”
Michaela couldn’t see the doctor in her periphery anymore. She felt the lights change more than she actually saw it. “Keep reading, Miss Rosen.”
Michaela couldn’t stop now. The letters were all she could focus on. They stood out, bold and sharp and clear. They filled her vision. “Z, C, A, N… T, T, um… H. I.” Michaela couldn’t… anything. Move. Think. React. There were letters in front of her, and she’d been told to read them, so she read them. That was the extent of her universe. “N… K… M, U, S… T, O… B, uh… E, Y.”
The letters stopped. Michaela felt like her head was lolling back and forth weakly. She couldn’t seem to form a coherent though. She just watched the letters, burning brightly before her.
"I don’t think you’re going to need glasses, Miss Rosen," the doctor said. "Your eyesight needs work, but it’s not that important for what you’ll be doing from now on." She nodded slowly, her mind dissolving into a thin mist.
"Now," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder, "Read the letters again, please. From the top."
He said “Come with me,” and she left her friends at the club. They were confused, but it had been a while since she last hooked up.
He said “Get undressed,” and she ripped off a strap from her newly-bought dress. She was going to return it yesterday but that didn’t matter anymore.
He said “Quit your job,” and she did the next day. Her chief of medicine was surprised, she was doing well in her oncology rotation.
He said “Dress this way,” and she threw out half her wardrobe. She couldn’t believe she had so many ugly clothes.
He said “Just have some fun now,” and she stopped worrying. It was so much more fun to be a silly little bimbo.
"Oh, tell me more about what your perfect girl would be like."
"Big tits and brown eyes? And very fit? She sounds hot! But I bet all guys wish their girls had big tits, haha!"
"Always made up? Sounds like a lot of work, she would be pretty vain, don’t you think?"
"Oh, so she’d just be doing it to please you…I, uh…I guess I could see that…"
"You want her to be…dumb…and…um…like what does in-sate-ya-bull mean?"
I had to keep this secret from my best friend. I was in love with her. She was just so pretty and, well, if I was a poet, I’d say she was effervescent. When she walked into a room, it got brighter. If you made her smile, you’d be walking on air for the rest of the day. I just… I just had to be with her. But why would Ruth ever even look at me? She could have anyone she wanted, and I was just… me.
I snapped one night, and confessed my love to her. She smiled a sad smile. “I have that effect on people,” she said, solemnly. I was confused, this wasn’t a yes, this wasn’t a no. “You’re going to have to make a few changes.”
"Anything, Ruth," I said breathlessly.
I started working out, losing the little bit of padding I had around my thighs and on my stomach. I started growing my hair out, and washed the purple dye out of it. Ruth liked her girls natural. It took a while to get it back to healthy and strong, but it was worth it because Ruth liked it that way, and I would do any thing for her.
I started wearing a lot more make-up to make myself look the absolute best that I could. I had to forget the years of feminist rants against make-up that I had given. I wasn’t trying to please men; I was trying to please Ruth! I had to get up at 5 AM just to have enough time to put it on, but it was worth it, because Ruth said she liked my lips, and when I did sleep, I got to dream of Ruth. I started tanning.
Ruth was there, giving me just enough encouragement to keep me going. One day, she kissed me (I melted. It was our first kiss!) and said “Dianne, you’re going to have get your boobs done.” There was a pause.
I smiled. “That sounds like a great idea, Miss,” I cooed. I hoped for a second a kiss. Ruth smirked and gave me a peck on the cheek. And so I got my boobs done. She wanted them and I wanted her to want me. No, I needed her to want me.
After I healed, I was sure that Ruth would want me now. I counted down the days until the doctor said that I’d be fine. When that day finally came, I rushed to see Ruth. “Looking good, Dianne,” She said, and my entire world sang out in joy. “Get wet for me, Dianne,” She said, and my knees turned to jelly. I went from 0 to, well, 59. I was soooo close to cumming right there. “Stop,” she said, and I whimpered but stood up straight. “Beg for it, Dianne.”
It didn’t take a second, my mouth was moving before I really even consciously knew what Ruth had said, “PleaseMissRuthpleaseletmeserveyouilldoanythingforyou. Youretheabsoluteownerofmeandmybody. Illdoanythingyouwantmeto. Ijustwantyousobadly…”
Attn: All Laboratory Staff
From: Research Supervisory Group (Dr. Donald Evans)
Re: Lab safety
Just a reminder to please exercise caution with any and all experiments within the lab. This is an issue both of your own safety as well as the safety of the lab, not to mention the…