The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Nesting Dolls

Chapter 6 — The Devoted Employee

Chloe’s eyes cracked open in bright afternoon light. She turned her head to the nightstand to see that it was 4:30, and she was sprawled across her bed in a tattered red skirtsuit. Unlike everyone else, however, she remembered everything, and that let her drift gradually into wakefulness. She saw the pink clutch on the nightstand and picked it up; one of her co-workers had reloaded it, and now that she knew what the shaving cream was for, she couldn’t wait to use it. Not that anyone had been able to say anything the night before, but she suspected a couple of people had been uncomfortable, and it was part of her job to make sure the Rooftop’s patrons were as comfortable as possible.

She hopped out of bed and gave herself a quick rinse, just enough that she’d be comfortable while shaving, then applied the shaving cream over her pussy. It went numb, and just before she lowered the razor, she thought, Anyone could do anything to my pussy when it was like this, and I wouldn’t know. The thrill of that lack of control touched off a familiar ache low between her legs, and she backed off the thought before she could do something stupid like juice the shaving cream off. Instead, she applied the razor until her pussy was as smooth as she could make it, then toweled off.

Once she was clean, she put on a tight pink t-shirt and a pair of yoga pants and went to check her e-mail. There were a few new ones, but only four that she cared about: messages from Shelby, Li, Christina, and Sofia. She didn’t stop to wonder how they had gotten her personal e-mail, just read through the congratulations with growing glee. Her heart fluttered at the unconditional love she was receiving from her new sisters. Thanks flowed through her fingers in the replies, though she couldn’t grasp the meaning.

It was late enough in the day that she couldn’t think of anything better to do than order up some pizza and enough porn to keep her busy all through the night. The pizza kept her fed; the porn and her trusty silver vibrator kept her satiated until it was time for her to go back to sleep and be ready for a new week of trading.

Morning came and Chloe woke up like she’d been kicked, ready to take on the world and anyone who might even think about getting in her way. She felt like she was glowing as she put on her skirtsuit and makeup, then headed to the office.

The first thing she noticed was Jamilla’s brightly patterned skirt and the red pumps that flashed beneath it. The skirt was down to the ankles like most of the other female traders who chose skirts over pants, but when Chloe cast her memory back over the last couple of weeks, she couldn’t remember having ever seen Jamilla in a skirt before.

She had to ask. She had to know. She had to see. “Hey, Jamilla! What did you do this weekend?” she asked.

No one, not even the experienced but dumb secretaries, would have noticed it—but Chloe saw something vague in Jamilla’s expression and a loss of focus in her eyes before she answered, “Went to this new club—un... be...lievable. Some rooftop downtown at some apartment building. Total blast—you’ve gotta try it. You?”

As soon as the canned reply was over, it was like the feed had been cut off. Something about control that fine and that strong make even the part of Chloe that was still fighting tingle with excitement. But she had to focus on her work so she could sell like crazy and make lots of money, so she sat down at her desk and booted up.

“See, those Friday blues are gone and you’re way up! Hope you don’t sue me for saying this, but you’re one crude little lady,” Bob said.

“Crudest bitch in all of Texas,” Chloe said proudly to a chorus of giggles. And something clicked.

These are her investors. I get the return, which goes to her. They get a piece, but they invest that in the club, and then the cycle continues... She grimaced with a twinge of a headache as she thought about it, but when she let it go and focused on her work, she made it through most of the day without a second thought. Nothing was going to stand in her way—

-except for the two bimbo secretaries, who showed up at her desk around four and refused to take no for an answer. “You’re ready now. Come on. Won’t take more than an hour, promise. Just a few forms. Welcome to success, Chloe,” the blonde said, rather viciously for a cheerleader as she walked Chloe to an office marked HR. But Chloe had seen too many secretaries and their bosses go into that room to know it for anything but the secretaries’ secret haven.

“Don’t think you know us. I’m Terri. She’s Nellie,” the blonde said. “Is, not Ys. We don’t know who made you, we don’t know what happened, and we wouldn’t understand if you told us detail by detail. But we know you’re one of us now.”

Chloe stared, jaw dropping. To buy herself a little time to think, she looked around the office and recognized Terri in the pictures—lovestruck in her husband’s arm, the proud mother giving her princess everything she wanted and more, the mother hen with all her chicks. “I made myself, and I’m no secretary,” she protested with a hint of heat in her tone. Deep inside, she felt her last stand coming, and she twitched, ready for a fight.

“A fighter to the end. I was like that when I made All-Conference! It’s not that bad! It’s, like, futile, but noble at the same time,” Nellie said in a motherly tone.

Chloe still didn’t get it until she got a closer look at the paperwork and saw the shield of the FBI on the folder. She hadn’t thought her jaw could drop even more, but somehow it did.

“No, not under the covers agents either, but I hear they’re out there. We just take care of their paperwork—classica—class—we tell ’em you don’t exist as a ‘free-willed human being’ and just how bad off you are. Nothing too, like, threatening,” Terri explained. Somehow the giggle at the end made it worse.

Chloe wanted to scream, understanding now that she had been taken. And she knew who had taken her and she couldn’t say a word. The walls were built too high for her to even think about it, and the warmth between her legs at the realization that she was caught told her that it was as much a physical change as a mental one.

“I see the real you rattling the cage. That won’t last long. They’ll take out that last fail-safe—at least for now. Aww, don’t fret. You won’t feel a thing,” Nellie said.

How can you be so cheerful about the erasure of my brain! Chloe wanted to scream. Then she considered her rising arousal. I guess cheerful is better than turned on?

“One day you’ll recover and wake up feeling like yourself—for the most part. You’ll just know what happened to you. Maybe after your first kid. That’s one thing we can do that men can’t. And it erases all those years of conditioning—” Terri enunciated the last word with the sound of long practice—“so the mother can replace the wife.”

The phrase “mother replacing the wife” stirred a chain of memories, and Chloe understood step by step how she’d been taken. But too much of her loved it, and she could no longer be sure how much of that was artificial and how much of it was her own repressed desires. In that split second, she could have broken away enough to implicate Inga and get help. But she stayed quiet as she read over the form that classified her as “thrall of a known controller, level 4”. She found it interesting that Inga wasn’t named explicitly, but it was obvious that they knew what had happened, and that Shelby was letting her go with it.

“I’ve been here too, you know! I tried out for cheerleading when I was sixteen. In Texas, that’s pretty much selling your soul. Made the team and made love to at least a hundred men and fifty women. I’m one of the lucky ones. I married a quarterback—okay, so he wasn’t the starting quarterback, but that’s all politics. Here, that’s kind of the pinnacle. Winnie made me think past the bedroom, even just a couple of rooms past it.” Terri sighed. “You won’t understand this, and if you do, you won’t soon. But we’re here for you. Not talk like idiots here for you, but to make sure that you don’t go any further down.”

“That’s our job!” Nellie chipped in.

Terri shot her a look that screamed “not helping!” and went on, “Like, whoever took you didn’t want a total bimbo. You earned that promotion. But we’re here to make sure no one takes advantage of you the way you are now and try to take you down even further. You have friends. Sure, we’re, like, cheerleaders and it’s hard for us to think sometimes, but we’re your friends.”

The plastic smile that Terri flashed her was enough to make Chloe shudder. Nellie saw that nervousness and said, “Hey, to have and to hold, right?”

Chloe didn’t get it. Terri said, “In the wrong hands... you don’t wanna know. I was a Frog back when we played the Horns every year, the Mustangs ran wild, and the Cougars were on the prowl. Lot of folks ’round here still pine for those years. I know what it’s like to feel your brain get turned into cotton candy, lick it clean off the stick, then get it spun again so the girls can take their turn. But I’ve got my pride. You think I’d have been a national champion if I didn’t give something in return? Or marry a man who had a civic duty to love and care for me? Yeah, he plays with radio—kids’ stuff, even bought my youngest a Farnsworth cathode starter kit for his twelfth birthday. You’re still making a mint with your brain. It’s not like you’re some sex doll doing Hollywood porn. I’d be honored if I was you.”

She sounds pissed that I’m not happy about this. Jesus... does she want me to surrender? Be the magic money machine during the day and a magic fucking machine during the night? Damn it, no, that does not sound like fun! Chloe thought.

“Look, you’re not dead, right? We’d know if you were dead ’cause you wouldn’t know you were dead. You’d just be giggling, sucking, and fucking. Maybe not in that order, but that’d be you. You don’t have to tell us who got you, just that someone got you. Money in the bank should tell you that,” Nellie tried to explain.

Somehow that did clarify it a little. They’re right. It’s not like the movies—not completely.

Then Terri showed Chloe the picture of Winnie in her cheer uniform. Only the braces told Chloe that this was really Terri’s teenage daughter and not some mid-twenties porn queen indulging someone’s fetish. The frame read Daddy’s Little Girl!, and Chloe looked closer at the girl’s idiot grin and the pink earbuds just barely visible, and a horrible idea started to blossom.

“Not like that! Soooo not like that!” Nellie interrupted before Terri could snap out of her “proud momma” trance and see the look of disgust on Chloe’s face.

Terri shook her head and shook off Nellie’s calming hand. “It’s okay. I’d get out the death certificate if she didn’t have the heebie-jeebies after that. Told you my husband likes to play with radios. And she wanted to be a cheerleader... well, this is Texas, honey child. And there ain’t a cheerleader in Texas with a mind of her own. 5A—Texas Elite can’t turn out better bimbos no matter how hard they try. Winnie’s school, the cheer coach got a raise when one of the girls turned up dumb enough for Japan.”

“Yeah, no matter how much they offer, never go to Japan,” Nellie chimed in.

“So couldn’t trust a coach, and I wasn’t about to trust my daughter to some horny high school boy with teenage hormones and a pocket watch. But she was determined to be a cheerleader just like me, even more when I told her what it meant to be a Texas cheerleader. So... well... what’s a dad who plays with radios to do? I hear she’s the first cheerleader to have her grades go up after she joined the team. Sure, she could blow a lineman as hot as she could blow a quarterback, but that’s ’cause she knew he angles. 4.0, top of her class, and bless her mindless heart, headed to Great Lakes ’cause she can be brainwashed into a community servant. Never been prouder to say that I’ll never see my daughter again,” Terri said, trying to choke back tears at the end.

Chloe almost fainted at the paradoxes, but she understood them and almost relished her future. She was controlled to do something more than fuck mindlessly. Sure, she did fuck, and did fuck mindlessly, and more than she had ever dreamed about in her life, but the core of who she was still remained. She could relax for now, even knowing that someday even that core would fade out, leaving behind a processor that could trade futures blindfolded.

She still wasn’t sure why the bimbo secretaries did what they did, but in their maddened way, they made Chloe content with her fate. If they could come through what sounded much more intense than Chloe’s experience, she’d be fine when Inga was done with her. She signed the papers happily before returning to work and lighting up the board.

At the end of the day, Shelby came over to her with a broad smile. “I’m so proud of you!” she squealed, and she all but dragged Chloe to the back seat of her car in the garage. A long, enthusiastic, makeout was all Chloe would allow, lest someone see them and start spreading the wrong kinds of rumors—but she appreciated the gesture, and the vials of pink lemonade powder that Shelby had left behind.