Chapter 6 — On the Wings of Angels
I have to do it.
My competitive mind is struggling to determine whether I’ve been beaten fair and square or not...But it doesn’t matter. Either I go through another session to wear my resistance out, or I stay here, cloistered, far from my Sisters and my wonderful customers.
I can’t wait to fuck some nice, powerful humans. Because I’m a Pretty. A sex doll. That isn’t up for debate anymore. But I want to be my own brand of sex doll.
Except I can’t. It’s been close to twenty four hours since my juiced-up tits have last been milked. And it hurts. I’m no stranger to pain, but even accounting for this dainty new body, I’ve never felt anything like that. Commotions, fractures, gunshot wounds, all of them can suck all the dick in the galaxy, but being in pain because you’ve got too much milk in your tits...It hurts my very soul as a murderously violent tomboy. It’s my own body yelling “What the fuck are you doing? Feed your baby!”
It’s my gender doing its best to whip my personality into shape. BrainTrust forced me to lactate, sure, but my physiology is more than happy to take over. I may be a knucklehead, but my Dad’s a doctor, I know that me producing milk means my brain is flooding with mommy hormones. I want to see helpless bimbo Christina. I want to hug her and let her suckle.
And that’s where I stand...As I still got to go through a mental programming session. Honestly...I’m scared. What’s going to come out of the bungalow this time?
But like I said, I have no choice. I step into the pod...And can only hope for the best.
Fuck. Ffffuuuuuck. This seriously had no goddamn right feeling so good. So now, not only do I know that I’ll never stop lactating, but I also have to live with the knowledge that I can cum from it. Seriously. Breast orgasm. Is that even a thing? It is in this new body. But to answer my own question...I still feel like myself, only I’m a bigger fan of my new tits. Like, it feels kinda wrong to get rid of such beauties, you know?
But what is easily the worst thing is that the machine barely pumped anything this time. I still got airheaded and flooded with nice pink pictures again, but it only took juuuuust enough milk to take the pressure away. Which means it’s going to hurt again in a few hours...Unless I give in. And given the fact that my feet are dragging me toward Christina’s lake...My chances at resistance aren’t really looking good.
I can see her swim beneath the crystal clear water. I know BioHack can create real-life mermaids, but it’s really another thing to see it in action...She really can breathe underwater. Honestly, that’s pretty awesome, and Chris always enjoyedswimming so I guess she would have liked it...But why did they have to fry her brain?!
But I guess even becoming a brainwashed bimbo can’t make the genius Pretty completely retarded. She spots me and swims to the surface, putting her big, juicy, yet smaller than mine, tits, and throws the puppiest stare you can imagine.
“Hi Chris.”
She doesn’t even answer, and just stares at my milkbags. Selena trained her well. I want to yell at her, tell her to wake up...BUt I have to face it. She’s been completely, utterly brainwashed. I have, for all intents and purposes, a true mermaid on my hands. Well, nipples. And...Look, I can’t even find the strength to come up with a reason to resist.
“Want some milk?”
She smiles as if I’ve just announced the end of all wars...And I can’t help but smile back. After all, my udders are going to be milked.
I phased out. Just completely went blank for a while. The mommy hormone cocktail has thrown me into absolute bliss as my fallen Sister suckled away. Why...Why would I even want to resist? This feels even better than a human giving me a good, hard fuck. I came four times, two for each jug my little baby emptied. She’s still suckling even though I’m spent, but fuck if it doesn’t still feel awesome. Overwhelmed, I gently lift her head off.
“That’s my good girl, Pearlie.” I say with my new Jodie Foster voice.
“Pearlie’s mommy tastes soo good...”
“Oh, I’ve gone up in the Coppelia family, have I?” I smile, compelled to play along.
“Yeah...Pearlie can’t get back to the Cradle now...Pearlie can’t hear the Creator...” She whines. Obviously she realized she’s trapped in a closed pool. Poor thing. “But Pearlie is loving and obey-y girl. So Pearlie, like, obey above water mommy.”
“I’m glad, sweetheart.”
And I kiss her. Deep. Passionately. As our fat boobies grind together, I can taste myself in her lips. My sweet creamy flavor...Goddamit, this is actually making me sad I gave everything to her. I want to grab my own teat and milk myself. This is insane. I already know I was born to be a docile little sex doll, but I’m slipping into this milky mommy role way too easily. I can even feel my beast...well, my new beast. No hateful, hostile snarling. Just a happy little moo.
We break the kiss. As delightful as it was, I guess we both kinda want to look at our insanely beautiful features. I know how Pretty I am, but Christina’s still as beautiful as she ever was...Only she’s my little baby girl now. Is that so bad?
“Oh, huh, like...” She babbles adorably. “Bot girl gave Pearlie a thing! It’s in Pearlie’s neck-thingie.”
“Really? Show Kylie...” I reply, stepping down playfully to her level. “What a pretty neckla...”
“What’s wrong, Mommy?”
The necklace is a hollow transparent container...And inside is another of those lactation-intensifying pills. Shit. This is playing out like dominoes. A perfect chain of events all designed to tempt me to give in.
I...I don’t want to succumb. I want to be my normal slutty Pretty self...But it feels kinda hollow now. Like a tantrum...While my true desire is to have another go at my sweet creamy taste. Deep down...I want to be exactly what BrainTrust wants me to be. And I know, like for a fact, that I’m generally spectacularly bad at choosing what’s best for myself. I’ve killed a guy. Become a mafia hitman. Never used my beauty. Closed my heart to love...And when actual smart people in the Foundation showed me what paradise was, I ran straight back to hell.
I’m a fucking moron who can’t even trust herself. I was, finally, in the right place a year ago, before the Choice. I was all but a perfect angel of love, I had, without a doubt, found my place as a beautiful pet, and I still blew it. What if I really do have another of those brain farts and choose to get rid of those wonderful udders by the end of the week? I...I have to at least give my inner cowgirl a chance.
“Nothing, Pearlie.” I say in my warmest tone as I take the pill inside and show it to Pearlie. “Now be a good girl and put that in Mommy’s mouth, okay?”
“Yay! Is Mommy going to make more milk?”
“You bet, sweetums.”
And so she complies, and so I swallow. I won’t let my stupid faulty brain ruin everything. Not before I’ve tasted myself again.
Three hours later, and I’ve come down from my pleasant little cloud of acceptance. Not by much though. A healthy sense of regret over taking the pill has come up, but the sensation of my teats filling up again is still making me smile. Seems like getting used to becoming a 24/7 dairy dispenser is easier than I thought it’d be. Plus, I can’t be too upset, it’s almost time for our shift!
Pearlie said she’d try to find her way back to her illusionary birthplace, and even talking about all the delicious fucking she would get didn’t deter her. What a troublesome kid I’ve got myself. So, again, I’m left alone with Selena to greet our owners for the day.
“I see your conversion is coming along well, Big Sister.” She queries.
“Yeah, yeah, eat me.”
“Anger is an irrational emotion. Accepting your new persona is your best course of action.”
“Yeah, and and you know what, Sel? Or whoever’s controlling you? I know it.”
Silence. Thank you very much. Ah, the doors open. I throw my arm in the air and wave it, smiling.
“Hello! Welcome to the new Cop...”
Oh. Wow, I didn’t expect to see him again.
“Mister Walhart?!”
“Hello, Kylie.” Smiles back the world-famous director. “How did my favorite Pretty do since last week?”
Oh, bullshit, it’s been a year since I saw you, dude. Seriously, this whole “acting like it’s another reality” thing is getting really weird. How did they convince him to participate in my reprogramming? No, wait, I know the answer. Of course he would want me to succumb to becoming a monument to breast fetishism.
“Oh, not much. Being a sex doll, getting shagged all the time, wishing for more Sisters...the usual.”
“Do not worry, I’d say it’s pretty posh as far as usuals go.”
“Probably. Anyway, I’m your favorite now? What about Al...”
Huh?
“Kylie, are you alright?” Asks Walhart, concerned.
“Huh, yeah...Just spaced out for a second there, I guess. So!” I say, clapping my hands together. “Shall we get to objectifying my sexy ass or what?”
“With pleasure.”
Hmm...This is just the best. Sitting naked on a strong, powerful man’s thighs, Selena’s expert tongue working my wet pussy, Walhart’s hands lovingly massaging my udders. Droplets of milk leak out, trickling down my hairless skin, taking away all pretense of dignity on my passive, moaning form. This is my reward as much as this is my lesson. Be wanton and submissive, and you’ll be happy. They don’t even need to whisper enslaving words to my open ears...The Pretty’s gospel is already in me. It just needs to grow in the pleasure and drown out my stupid pride.
“Sir...” I moan to the famous director. “Don’t you...mmmh...you know, want to drink my m...Milk?”
“Well, I’d love to, sweet Kylie, but I’m rather afraid I am lactose intolerance.”
“Oh...” I sigh, between relief and disappointment. “My Pretty programming makes me freak...mmmh...out a bit at being covered in milk, Sir...”
“But you always manage, don’t you? With all the nights I played with your unique breasts, you...”
“Oh, please cut the...aaahn...crap, Sir.”
He flinches, digging his fingers a smidge further into my puffy nipples, and I let out another utterly feminine moan.
“I mean...” I continue, sensing he’s still trying to figure out what to say next. “I know the plan. I...know you’re here to make me fall in love with a reality in which I always had huge cow tits. And it’s alright, Sir...I’m having a great time being transformed. If...hmm...If there’s still some fight left in me in the end and I ruin my shot at sexy happiness again, so be it, but I will no longer resist the process.”
I bend my head back, trying to get as close from eye contact as possible.
“Do your best, Sir.”
“Well”, I hear him chuckle gently. “Looks like the baby Pretty is growing fast.”
“Whaddya...aaaagh...mean?”
“I was supposed to just ease you into it. You know, provide familiarity and comfort to wear down your resistance, and give you more pleasant sensations to latch onto. I wasn’t told you’d already be this accepting.”
I see him gently push Selena away from my crotch. The sexbot complies to the tacit order and goes stand emotionlessly next to the wall for a bit. I take a bit of a breather...just a bit, as he keeps manhandling my jugs.
“What happened, Kylie?” Concludes Walhart.
“I’m...not sure.” I sigh. “Maybe...I guess a switch just flipped off. After breastfeeding the new Christina...I realized how pointless resistance was. Just, poof, you know?”
“I fear I don’t.”
“Well...Basically, I’m still pissed off to be the target of a change much stronger, and weirder, than the PWF ever subjected me to. But what’s the alternative? Was my year in half freedom really worth leaving the Coppelia behind? And...Suddenly, I was just, like...Done. So done with all this humanity crap.”
“I see.”
The perverted cinematic wiz hugs me, and I feel comfortable in his embrace. Feel like snuggling.
“And so you chose to forego freedom and pride. No regrets?”
“No. No regrets. Only...fear.”
“You, Kylie Heisenberg, fear something?”
“Yes, Sir. I’m afraid...Afraid to have a choice again. Afraid of being saved. History is going to repeat itself...” I whisper, clutching on the human’s strong, dominating hand. “I just feel it. This situation is too fucked up not to explode and leave my perfect Pretty life destroyed at my feet. The Beast will grow back and consume the gentle cowgirl who’s singing to me of surrender and love. Nick will save me. I’ll be free again...And that would be horrible.”
I’m sobbing. Straight sobbing. It’s all right...I don’t have to pretend anything anymore. I’m femininity made flesh now. I want to be emotional and silly. That’s who I truly am...
“And don’t you want your husband back?” Asks Walhart. Obviously he’s been thoroughly briefed.
“I don’t know...I’ve lived one year with something around the neck that silenced any bad thought towards him before I ever thought them. Silenced any budding love I could feel except for him. I wonder now...did I really love him, or did I simply never stop loving all of humanity and mistook it for genuine, wifely love?”
“A perilous conundrum to tread on, I admit...”
“Bottom line...I’m glad I avenged my father and put a stop to Carlyle. But now I must go, and stay home. I am a Pretty. A pet. An angel of submissive love. And in the end, no matter how the Foundation hates the term...A slave.”
Lloyd Walhart lifts me, and turns me around. I let him, both incapable of resisting him because of my programming and unwilling because of what I know now.
“Are you my slave, Kylie?”
“Yes, Master. I am. To you and to humanity. I’m a fucking moron who can’t handle freedom. I don’t deserve it because I’ll do the exact worse thing for me and all around me if I have it. I need enslavement. I need to be subjugated and tamed. It’s justice...and it’s... sob mercy.“
Full-on tears start to flow on my cheeks. It’s alright. My God, I’m so sorry about everything. I don’t deserve such a Heaven...
“I...sob...I’m so grateful...snurfle. I deserve the chair, but I have been granted blissful slavery. I even get to keep my...waaaaah...My autonomy...I should be so thankful...I’m such a retard for even trying to...sob resist it...“
“It’s alright.”
He kisses me. My beautiful, kind Master kisses me. I love him so much...Him and all the other Masters. They’re so kind to me.
“You’ve done a great job realizing who you truly are.” He whispers to me, gently. Such a godly voice. I’m in love. “You are an admirable Pretty, Kylie Coppelia.”
“I’m not...” I protest, ashamed. “I’ll resist again. That’s how retarded I am...”
“But that’s what makes you an interesting and endearing slave, dear. Just let the Foundation keep your monstrous instincts in check.”
“But...I’m not in the F...”
“Shhh.”
His finger on my puffy lips. He’s obviously enjoying himself...But I know he wants to help me, too. I’m a piece of art to him...of course he would want to perfect me.
“BrainTrust, the Foundation, what does it matter, Kylie dear? They are your owners and your wardens. I know you are loving and obedient right now, but if you want to remain that way, you must also have faith.”
“F...sob. Faith, Master?“
“Yes. You cannot trust yourself, so you have to trust in the Masters of your mind and heart. Only they can help you win against what you fear in your own heart.”
“I...guess...”
“This is only advice from a man who has control over his own life, mind you...You have accepted your station. You are a Pretty, an unwilling slave who became willing. Who kept her mind, only to devote it to service and love. Now, only you can determine how your new life works. What is a Pretty-slave’s virtues? What are her sins? Find out, my dear...Grow up in your new life of submission. And I hope you’ll be happier and more obedient next week.”
I smile from ear to ear. Oh, Master. You are so right. I must have faith. I will not escape again. There will be a next time.
“Now, heed your orders, ye willing thrall.” He announces theatrically, making me chuckle a bit. “I will not hear your words until our next meeting. For now, let only your obedient moans and cries of passion reach my ears.”
“O...Mmmh-mmmh!”
Mutism play, huh? Guess it makes sense for a director...Maybe? Humans really have the strangest fetishes.
“Selena! Come help me fuck this slave’s brains out.”
“With Pleasure, controller Walhart.”
“Hmmm!” I moan happily, liking the sound of that.
Terri got back into the surveillance post that acted as her office. Getting supplied by a boat sure felt strange—what if a And Then There Were None situation turned up? Plus, it was a shame she didn’t get to see Kylie being worked up by Lloyd Walhart. The guy was almost single-handedly responsible for getting Kylie to surrender during her Prettiest week. He wasn’t loaded as one of the best current directors for nothing.
The former Pretty unpacked her tabbouleh dish and started eating, activating the CCTV system with her wrist. Christina, as commanded, was in her underwater bed. Water breathing sure was something. Selena had already gone to sleep too, in a bed that pretended to be a giant battery charger. It was campy, and supposed to be. Terri regretted the Coppelia’s warm sisterhood but, well, CEO’s orders. Pretty sure that Kylie would be hanging out in a dark spot, struggling with her feelings, she checked every screen. No big-titted Kylie. How strange. Was there a blind spot she noticed or something?
The idea of checking the cameras inside Kylie’s bungalow didn’t even come up for a while. When Terri checked them, it was almost more of a random act than anything else. She was all the more astounded when she saw her.
“Whaaaaat the hell?”
Kylie was kneeling in front of the brainwashing pod inside her room. She was stark naked, her legs were spread open, and her head was hanging down. Every centimeter of her being screamed complete and utter submission. What happened? She was gone eight hours to deal with a supply drop only to get entangled in bureaucratic bullshit, and Walhart straight up enslaved her stubborn Sister?
It was in a state of utter confusion that she took the microphone and activated the identity concealing voice synthetizing software.
“Huuuh...Kylie?”
“Oh, there you are, Mistress.”
Terri blinked. Seriously? Not only did bull-headed Kylie call her “mistress”, she did it in an amazingly cheerful tune. Not even alternate, altered memories Kylie from her mentor’s program didn’t get as chipperly submissive. “What the hell happened?” She wished to ask. But clearly she couldn’t allow herself to risk breaking Kylie’s illusion.
“I see you made stellar progress at suppressing your own will.”
“Thank you, Mistress.” Did she seriously blush here? “I finally realized how much of a fool I was.”
“Oh...that’s...I mean, what a good girl you are, Kylie.”
“I am not. I am a crazy psycho who can deprive herself of such a happy life. I need you, Mistress. You can’t fix me. Even after embracing obedience...Even with my Beast removed, I still think of escaping. And it scares me. Please, Mistress. I submit. Make me your motherly milk maid or whatever. Smother my hateful, stupid self. Grant me true obedience.”
“I will, Kylie. Stay right where you are. I’ll prepare a brainwashing program that will rock your world.”
“Thank you, Mistress.”
The newly minted dominatrix closed the channel in a hurry, amazed she could manage such a cool-headed answer to such insanity. Kylie was seriously going above and beyond here. Thoroughly freaked out, she grabbed her new cell phone and tapped on the only recorded number.
“Grace Rivers speaking.”
“Hi ma’am. Huh, I mean, Grace.”
“Still can’t shake off old habits, can you Terri?”
“Yeah, yeah...Look...Huh...”
“My, you seem confused. Is everything alright? Is the Foundation mistreating you?”
“No! No...It’s just...Kylie just went full-on slave mode when I wasn’t looking.”
Silence. Grace replied, a few seconds later, with a clearly curious tone of voice.
“Did she now?”
“Yeah...I mean, I told you yesterday she accepted being a Pretty. But now she asking me to destroy her remaining resistance. No way Walhart did that. And we certainly didn’t.”
“Quite so...What an interesting case. Acute targeted self-loathing...God was I blind. Your choice of making Milky Kylie an angel on her shoulder might have helped, but...You’re right. This is not our doing. She simply came to prefer her Prettifying to her subsequent semi-free life. Carlyle’s wretched mental leash, along with her pretender ‘husband’ probably strained her so hard that the rubber band went all the way in the other direction.”
“Which...means?”
“In short, Kylie never stopped being your Pretty Sister. She was just forced by circumstances to regain freedom...But deep down, she hated it. This slave mentality...this is just her overcompensating. You needn’t worry. This basically just amounts to a flight of fancy.”
“You mean she’ll get back to a normal Pretty eventually?”
“Yes. Docile but autonomous Pretty is her default state now. Indulge her overcompensation for a day and she should get back to it. Should, mind you...This woman really is full of surprises.”
“All right, Kylie. Here’s what we’re going to do.”
I smile. Mistress finally speaks to my unworthy ass again.
“I’m listening, Mistress.”
“I’m going to put you through all the planned conditioning sessions at once. You’ll simply be addicted to lactation, and not even getting freed will change that.”
“I don’t want to be freed, Mistress...”
“Yes, I know. This was hypothetical...Anyway. Tomorrow, the customers will not treat you like a Pretty. You’ll be a true devoted slave to them. You will know what utter obedience tastes like. It will be just for a day, but your heart will always remember it. You will always know, deep down, that even complete slavery is nothing to fear. You will never value freedom and rebel again.”
Wow...This is just music to my ears. What an elegant solution...Even if Nicholas saves me, I will always know freedom is overrated. I will always come back to my angelic self.
“I want it, Mistress. Please do it.”
“Just step into the pod, sweetheart.”
I get up and step forward with a smile. This is right. This is who I want to be. A lactating doll free of human concerns. And so I submit. So I ride into true happiness, on the wings of angels.