The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“The goth is not quite as dumb as the blond.” Samuel panned his gaze across the men, “In truth, she didn’t really need that part of her head played with, but it does make things easier for the final result.”

None of the men stirred, their gazes were dead, expressionless. Even with the show that Nicole had put on, they seemed to have miraculously recovered their boredom.

“Stupidity is not necessary for a bimbo, however.” Samuel clicked his remote and the slide changed to a silhouette of Kayla, the band’s leader.

“A bimbo simply needs to have her priorities rearranged. When her focus is on her appearance, sex, and her girlfriends, she’s not going to be earning any PhDs any time soon. Samuel flashed another smile, “No. Her intelligence becomes focused on other things that are more important.”

Kayla knew that things were bad. Really bad. She should have stuck with Nicole’s gut, it was nearly always right. God, what was going to happen to them? Kayla’s thoughts raced, she saw herself, Nicole, and Sam all in various rape scenarios. Would they be kept prisoner? Or disposed after being used?

The man, Samuel, he’d known how to pull their strings. An offer to sign with a label? Gotcha. Those smiles, that sharp suit, he had been delicious, and she and Sam had been more than willing to taste. Nicole had been wary, wooed over only by a night of ravenous sex and the confidence of her girlfriend, Kayla.

Tears began to build in her eyes. She stared at the blue screen, unable to move, unable to do anything. The tears welled up, streaming down her face. She would have sobbed if she could, but, the paralysis was complete, not a sound escaped her lips.

The blue screen began to flicker, and then a new image appeared.

It was Kayla. It wasn’t immediately obvious, because the image on the screen looked radically different. It was the little details that made the difference, but they added up, creating something that only barely resembled her.

Kayla had nearly flawless skin, if she wore makeup, it was in an attempt to look different, to transform herself into someone else. However, the image of Kayla on the screen had truly perfect skin. It was not only flawless, it seemed radiant, bordering the real and the artificial. She looked like a movie star.

However, that was only the start of the differences.

Her eyes were different too. They were wider, framed by lashes that seemed impossibly long. There was nothing subtle about the makeup around them either. This faux Kayla had bright, neon-green eye-shadow. The vibrant shock of color clashed somewhat with the flawless skin, but it also complemented her emerald-hued eyes beautifully. Her eyes were lined in dark kohl eyeliner, which was probably at least half of the reason that they seemed... bigger.

Instead of a single nose ring, the image on the screen had a row of 4 nose rings. The rings rand down in a perfect line on her nose. However, the rings were of different sizes and shapes, as if it were important to keep her image incongruous, chaotic.

The image of Kayla had the same neon green painted across her lips, highlighting their fullness and the cupid’s bow shape, but doing so in a weird, artifical sort of way.

Only one thing was allowed to mar the perfect features of her face: a singular “punk star” on her left cheek. The tattoo was a mix of deep, blood red and obsidian black, alternating between the two colors to create a star with the illusion of dimension, and letting anyone who knew the scene know that she wasn’t simply a woman with a doll’s face, she was a punk doll.

Her hair was shorter, though it wasn’t done up in a punk mohawk or some other short-haired style. Instead, the mousy brown hair which normally brushed against her back hung just above the shoulders of the faux Kayla. It must have been loaded with hairspray for her hair was intentionally messy, reaching out at odd angles and giving the hair a sort of volume that she wasn’t used to. Her hair color was predominately green, neon green, just like her eyes and her lips. However, there were shocks of a fluorescent blue as well, complementing and contrasting the green with every stroke.

There was an anger simmering in the faux Kayla’s eyes. Kayla knew the history and branches of rock music better than most, and certainly more than Sam or Nicole. She knew the differences between the rise of Goth rock in the 80s, and the fiery debut of Punk in the 70s, a counter-movement to the mainstream rock and roll that had begun to soar. Metal Hearts had incorporated elements from all three sources, and more.

Various other friends, some shared, others unique to each member of the group, had said that Metal Hearts reminded them of early Green Day, hard and fast Punk, Pop-Rock. Yet, some of their arrangements, lesser played, hearkened to the strange, eclectic stylings of Punk’s true roots, flirting with off-key chords and discordant melodies. Other tunes brought out the full richness of somber Goth melodies, utilizing Nicole’s powerful and masterful playing of the guitar lead guitar with Kayla’s guitar-influenced bass.

Most of their original music focused around those three genres. However, the girls of Metal Hearts all still had their favorite, “mainstream” rock crushes, guilty pleasures that they expressed in the form of covers. All three of them liked Foreigner, and Rush was a popular favorite as well.

Nicole loved doing covers from Metallica, Iron Maiden, and System of a Down. Sam’s favorite covers were drawn from Green Day, Linkin Park, and Shinedown. Kayla liked it all, but when they did covers that she favored, she tended to prefer the Sex Pistols, the Ramones, and other early Punk bands.

Kayla noted that the image on the screen, even with the more modern, “Pop-Punk” touches, also had a heavy foundation in the roots of true Punk. The Punk Doll had a short-waisted leather jacket, laden with thick, heavy chains. Underneath that was a bright, garish blue tube top. Kayla’s chest was modest, but the doll certainly had a more pronounced figure, and her DDs, far larger than Kayla’s on chest, pushed the top to its limits.

The jacket was cut-off at the sleeves. Here, more tattoos were featured on her unblemished skin. She had two full sleeves, with stylized band names of early Punk artists, and one, very prominent name on her right arm, just below the shoulder: Metal Hearts, complete with a steampunk heart logo. Just below this was the name “Kay”, and, titling that name was the phrase “Punk Bimbo”.

If Kayla’s heart had been able to stop, it would have. As it was, she was certain it skipped a beat.

This... that was what was going on. The hilarious, “ironic” title of the label wasn’t ironic at all. True to their name, they wanted to turn Kayla, and likely Sam and Nicole, into bimbo pop icons.

The version of Kayla on the screen had a thinner waist than Kayla remembered, though the flat tummy was familiar, save for the fact that Kayla didn’t like showing off her midriff.

A dragon tattoo encircled her waist, its maw poised to devour her belly-button, which was pierced in three ways: bar-bell, hoop, and stud.

The skirt that Kayla’s Punk-inspired equivalent wore clung tightly to rounded hips that Kayla was sure she didn’t have. The black, leather fabric traveled just an inch or two down her thighs before transitioning to a neon green chiffon fabric, ruffled and pleated as though she were some sort of Punk princess.

Black nylons climbed her smooth, perfectly toned legs, and she wore clashing heels, one of them blue, the other green, each of them with a four-inch spike.

No... no no no... NO! Kayla tried to close her eyes, but her eyelids did not respond to her command.

The image began to pan away, the Punk doll on the screen shrank a little as the camera gave her distance. Then two silhouettes appeared, one on either side of her. Even before the outlines of her two best friends began to fill in, she could tell who was who. Yet, as they began to fade in, they became ever more unrecognizable.

Sam, who stood to Kayla’s left, looked the most different out of the three of them. She was like a Scene Girl Barbie, every inch of her felt artificial, and contrasted vividly with Kayla. Where Kayla had an intriguingly beautiful doll-look, the fake Sam looked almost plastic.

One of the biggest changes was Sam’s figure. It was less noticeable in silhouette, but, as the image of Kayla’s friend had filled in, she noticed that a lot of Sam’s “love handles” had been pushed down into her hips. Kayla’s chest and hips had certainly taken a notable increase, but Sam’s were almost obscene in their proportion. She sported breasts that were better described as titties, mammoth FF cups that defied gravity. Between Sam’s tits and her hips there was very little. Sam’s waist looked as though it had been squeezed by a corset, her compressed waist managed to be as narrow as Kayla’s, perhaps narrowers, which begged the question of how she moved around.

Sam’s figure wasn’t the only notable change, however. Her blonde hair was longer, and was a fully bleached platinum in color. Sam’s hair was styled into two long pigtails that fell down to her butt, with streaks of bubble-gum pink running through her locks to give her that slightly-edgy-but-not-truly-rebellious look.

Of the three girls, Sam’s blue eyes were by far the most vacant. She had a spacey, dreamy quality, as though her head were stuffed with fluff: ponies with pink crossbone skulls, puppies with broken-heart collars, and other inane banalities that were so far removed from who Sam had been that Kayla had trouble thinking of her as Sam. Sammi seemed a more apt name for the over-sexualized caricature of her friend.

Sam, or Sammi, wore the brightest clothes of the bunch, which was saying something. The only black that Sammi wore was the kohl around her eyes, which were done in a similar style to that of Kayla, to make her eyes wider and more doll-like. However, this effect, in relation to the far-off look in her eyes gave an impression of ditzy that simply didn’t resonate the same when one looked at the faux Kayla.

Pink was the dominant color of Sammi’s wardrobe. She wore a stark white top with spaghetti straps. Her chest pushed against the fabric of the top so that it had no choice but to bend to the pressure and reveal a large crevice of cleavage to anyone looking at her. The top was cinched by a pink and red underbust corset, which was cut short to reveal Sammi’s flat stomach. Bracelets... silver, gold, pink plastic, and of various designs clattered around on Sammi’s wrists. Her skirt was a mid-thigh pleated number with a frilly, ruffled lace hem. With every movement, the skirt threatened to flash her bubble butt, or a sneaky peek at whether or not she was wearing underwear.

A red belt, studded with pink-colored metal, with chains draping down her thighs, was the first sign of the alternative style that Sammi was supposed to represent. She also wore pink fishnet stockings, with a wide mesh, giving a generous view of her legs. Completing the outfit were a pair of pinkp pumps, with a five-inch heel.

Sammi’s makeup was outrageous as well. In addition to the kohl around her eyes, she wore bubble-gum pink eyeshadow and lipstick, and her cheeks were touched with a breath of blush. Foundation covered her face, giving it a smooth, unblemished look, though not one that could compete with Kayla.

The image of Sammi on the screen bent over at the waist, flashing a shot of her cleavage for Kayla to see. Unbidden by her command, Kayla felt her sex flash hot and begin to grow moist.

Sammi was every bit the alternative bimbo, but she was also undeniably sexy, and the image of her teasing and flirting were making it difficult for Kayla to focus on her predicament.

“Perfect, isn’t she?”

Kayla wanted to look around for the source of the voice, but her head wouldn’t budge.

“Mmmm, bend her over and give her a nice spanking, am I right?”

This time, Kayla anticipated the voice, but that didn’t make her any more comfortable. The voice sounded distinctly like her... in her head.

No! No! This is wrong. Samm- SAM is my friend, not some pop-music, Scene Rock bimbo!

“That’s not nice. Sammi should be free to be herself, no?”

Kayla didn’t know what to say or how to respond. How could she be arguing with herself? It didn’t make any sense. She pushed past the voice and forced herself to look at Nicole.

Nicole was, perhaps, the least changed of the three of them, at least physically. Sure, her style had taken Goth “princess” to a whole new level of extreme. She wore a black dress with full, voluminous skirts, complete with petticoats that ended at her knees. The dress was trimmed in a deep, plum purple, and a purple ribbon was tied around her waist with an oversized boy at her back.

The fiery red hair that Kayla had adored on her girlfriend was gone, replaced by a black mass of ringlets that fell to the Goth girl’s shoulders. Heavy black kohl outlined her eyes, giving her a severe, somber look. There were touches of heavy purple eyeshadow and Nicole’s lips were painted in contrast: her upper lip was black, but her bottom lip was purple.

There was a slightly glazed, vacant look to Nicole’s gaze as well. Kayla felt her heart lurch as she recognized that missing spark. Something told her that this Nicole wasn’t going to be staying up late discussing existential questions over life, the pursuit of pleasure, and one’s purpose in the world.

The fishnets that ran up Nicole’s legs left significantly less space than Sammi’s, almost entirely obscuring them in black fabric. The leggings drew the eye down to her feet, which were wrapped in four inch black stilettos, with plum bows tied at the top.

Nicole was covered in piercings. 12 on each of her ears studs, hoops, and gauges. There were two piercings in each of her brows. A full set of rings ran down her nose, including two in each of her nostrils.

In fact, the only part of her face that was remarkably absent of piercings were her lips, which had only one ring at either end.

Tattoo sleeves ran down Nicole’s arms, likely the entire length of each arm, though the sleeves of her dress came down to her elbows. The tattoos depicted dark angels, melting black hearts, and other scenes of a somber world, one known only to her.

Across each finger on her right hand were tattoos of the letters “P”, “A”, “I”, “N” in stylized, gothic print. Mirroring those letters on her left fingers were “S”, “L”, “U”, “T”. As the words registered in Kayla’s mind, she felt her pussy flare up with heat once more.

Pain slut. Nicole was Kayla’s pain slut. Her bimbo, Goth, pain slut.

Unbidden, a name echoed in her thoughts: “Nikki”

Nikki, not Nicole. Nikki was Kay’s pain slut. And Sammi was the pet of the band, a stupid Scene girl who could function on drums, and her only other talent was looking pretty and being good at sex.

It occured to Kay that there was nothing wrong with that thought. She stared at the screen, at the three dolls: Scene, Goth, and Punk. Each of them was undeniably beautiful in their own alternative way. Their leader was Kay. Not only beautiful, but intelligent, charming, managing to balance the chaos of Punk with the mainstream tastes of America.

Kay closed her eyes for a moment, surprised she could control them, but then wondering why she was concerned that she shouldn’t have had control. Kay could have done anything she wanted, used her mind however she wished, but what she wished for most was to be the most beautiful Punk doll ever, and to cultivate her bandmates into their own beauty. What she wanted was sex. Hard sex. With plenty of rock on the side.

Kay stood up and looked down at herself. Something wasn’t right. She looked down at her body, and then at the screen, from which her gaze found Sammi and Nikki. There was work to be done.