The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Docility Trigger

Chapter 3 — Behind the Curtain

I thought I would fall asleep waiting for the Doctor. Instead, I slipped into the hallucination again. When will I be free of this curse?! I just want to be a good girl and please Men. Why would I ever be plagued with a rebellious outsider’s memories? I know the obvious answer would be that I was this wretch once, but that is simply ridiculous. I perfectly remember being raised in Providence. There is simply no way I am Purity!

Ah, but at least the hallucinations are a lot more pleasant now. I feel the liquid draining and Purity crumpling down to the tank’s floor. She is dazed, her mind emptied by the otherwordly pleasure. Her body feels so different now. The tense energy she developed from years of survival where every crevasse pulled you to your death is completely gone, replaced with such sensitivity even the air feels like a soft blanket. Even as the direness of her situation floods back in, Staz simply does not feel like doing much at all.

Doctor Abel walks to her. He looks taller.

“Good news, Project Purity!” He announces with a smirk. “I was planning to turn you into a raunchy bar wench but a friend of mine said he wanted your experimental butt. He runs a luxury brothel. You get to be a precious, almost smart little sex princess!”

Hm? That sounds familiar...

“Go to heck ya...bastard...”

“So how do you like your new body? Beautiful, sensitive and so, so weak.”

“I can’t even...move...”

“Yes, with most of your nerves reconfigured, you’ll need to grow into it. Don’t worry though, it should be very pleasant.”

He reaches for Purity and picks her up as she wriggles weakly. His strong hands feel so good to her sensitive skin, her heart starts racing. Burning with shame, the changing Wasteling wants to rip the Man’s throat out, but she cannot even manage to curl up her new delicate hands into fists. She is helpless as the doctor carries her effortlessly to another room.

It’s a laboratory with lots of fancy complicated machines. Like always, I am awed by the things Men can master, but Purity just finds it ominous.

“Wh-what are ya gonna do to me now, ya git?!”

“Well, you are a unique specimen so I can’t say for sure, but this is the server room that manages every virtual reality lessons in the girl’s boarding school. I think hooking you up to the system for a while should have interesting results.”

He makes Purity lie down on a reclining chair with cuffs on the arm stands. She tries to conjure her strength and reclaim control of her body before he can restrain her, but once again, she is helpless.

“Aaaargh fuck ya! Why shoulda care about some tartlets’ lessons?!” She screams as the good Doctor hooks a cable to her choker.

“Well, as I told you before, girls’ school is entirely dedicated to groom young girls as submissive pets. They live under male authority all her life so they won’t feel any inhibition when they hit puberty. Their shallow desires are pandered to while action or thinking is heavily discouraged. It is less a school and more an eternal kindergarten ensuring they’ll grow up as bimbos, really. Whatever actual lessons are streamed into their brains by VR all revolve around rationalizing subservience. That way, our dear girls can philosophize all they want; the only complex thinking they are equipped to do is musing about how natural their oppression is.”

“Whadda fuck...” Gasps Purity, as if Doctor Abel had said anything shocking. “That’s some next-level madness...”

“Oh please, some feminists in the past actually, seriously planned about doing just that to young boys. Plus, we wouldn’t be able to keep the city afloat if the orgone producers were free to think. The end do justify the means when it comes to survival”

Yes, that’s right! Providence needs its meek and loving girls! Thank the Mother Purity is about to get some sense into her head. The doctor fiddles with some machine, and some images flash in the Wasteling’s mind.

“Neural link is a go. So...how about we start with ‘All girls are fun and pretty’, ‘The Mother—Your spiritual guide’ and ‘The Good Girl’s vocabulary’? Third grade stuff, but ten hours of this should be a nice basis for a new personality to match your body.”

“Damn ya! Fall of this stinkin’ city and die in a rift!”

“Oh, by the way, the virtual courses carry over the thought patterns of its subjects. You’ll have good little girl thoughts in your head for your choker to latch onto. In fact, by the time you’ve gone through all the cursus, you might just believe you experienced school yourself. Doesn’t that sound fun, Purity?”

“FUCK YOU!”

“After graduation, you naughty little pleasure girl.” He smirks. “Oh, and you positively love the idea, by the way.”

“The heck are you on ab—”

“Come now, Purity.”

Her pussy clenches and her eyes grow wide. Something is building inside her. Pleasure. The consuming bliss from the pod is coming back just hearing the command words. She tries to stem the tide, think of something else, but it is no use.

“Oh mah...nnnoo...noooohh...OOOooohhhhh!”

As her body starts shaking, images of cute little girls playing with each other without a single worry in their pretty little heads invades her mind’s eye. And before the mindsets of good girls start flooding in, she has one last thought as her true, untainted self.

“I am so fucked.”

* * *

“Miss?”

I slowly emerge from the fond memories of my childhood. Just fooling around with pretty dolls and clothes, our only lessons being easy on the brain. What a pleasant dream! School gives us girls a bottomless supply of cherished memories to go back to when we’re not fulfilling our natural role complementing Men. Still...wasn’t I hallucinating?

“Yes...Doctor?” I answer, sluggishly.

“You were rather out of it, so I took the liberty to get you into the chair and reconfigure your choker.” He explains with a warm smile. “You are once again protected from rebellion.”

I gasp in pure happiness, and thank him profusely, chirping compliments like a silly baby bird. I understand now! He treated me while I was out of it, and that third hallucination naturally transitioned to my true memories!

“Oh, please let me offer myself to you, Sir! I’m so grateful!”

“Well, I have other patients waiting, but I’m sure it will take no time at all if you just use those great tits of yours.”

“Hee hee! You have great taste, Sir!”

My legs freed, I get out of the chair and kneel in front of him. Thanks to the convenient latch on the upper part of my corset, I free my voluptuous boobs and wrap them around his beautiful shaft.

“Mmmmh...”

His glorious manhood makes my slut flesh eager. I knead my sensitive breasts to massage it as I wrap my lips around the bellend. It tastes amazing. Yes, this is my place. I’m not a rebellious, unfeminine Wasteling. I am a good whore who lives in service to Men. I suck, I fuck and I am thankful to be of use despite being just a girl.

I cum in my breasts. The trembling pushes Him over the edge, and he grants me his seed. I accept it with euphoria. Semen down my throat makes me feel complete.

* * *

After a quick trip to the restroom to readjust my cleavage, I step out of the clinic and take a deep breath. The fresh air of freedom! The sun is setting behind the waterfall, giving us the strange luminosity typical of Summer evenings.

“Well!” I exclaim, excited. “Now that I’m a dominated bimbo again, where shall I get some overtime work?”

Indeed, a good pleasure girl’s day is never done. I’m still dripping wet, for one, and Men do not turn their females into sex-crazed airheads because they stop their urges once the sun sets. The only question is, where am I going to be fucked the hardest? My pinky flies to my smirking lips as I daydream. The factory district? The bars? Well, I am an certified luxury whore, I’m sure I could get into the Hesperides Hotel. It’s just that...well, I’m such a slut, I always end up going for the easy orgies instead.

Yeah, getting a pass for the Hesperides makes my bubble brain swim just thinking about it. Staz my girl, you’re hitting the pubs tonight!

...Wait, what the...?

Did I just fucking call myself Staz? Did I SWEAR? B-b-but that can’t be right! My choker’s fixed! I’m a good girl, I have to be! I remember school! I remember everything! Staz is just a product of my silly girly brain, right? RIGHT?

I rush to the nearest bench and try to go back to the hallucination. There will be proof all of it is a lie, there has to be!

* * *

The lessons stop pouring in the Wasteling’s mind. How long had it been? Virtual Reality lessons are quick, but the Doctor kept them going, progressively including the entire elementary school repertoire. I feel her eyes flutter. She’s completely out of it.

“Welcome back, Project Purity. Feeling soft and girly yet?”

“Huuuuh....”

“Interesting...How old are you?”

“Huh...I dunno Sir...Nine?”

The Doctor smiles wide.

“Oooh yeah, that’s what I was hoping for. We’re talking severe overexposure after all...Do you remember living in the Wastes?”

“Yes Sir!” Chirps Staz. “Only a bit tho...”

“What have you been doing the last few days?”

“Learning how to be cute like always!”

“Oh, that’s awesome. What’s your name?”

“Huuuuuh...I dunno? Like, it’s always different...”

After a first-pump, Doctor Abel turns to his computer and starts typing something.

“If flooding your mind with the school network overwhelms your memories this completely, I might as well put a name override. Your reeducation will continue until you absorb the student mindset and forget your true life entirely, thinking of yourself as a consistent name all the way. There! You should no longer receive all the student’s names as they are.”

“Like, whaddya mean, Sir?”

“It means you have a real name now...Elizabeth.”

* * *

I emerge from the hallucination in a cold sweat.

It is not a lie.

I remember sitting in that chair, being “educated” like a Providence girl. The first session turned me into an obedient child. The others turned me into a slut. There was some part of me that resisted, but in the end it wasn’t even the thoughts of girls conditioned since birth that got to me. It was how good the lessons were at pandering to my body’s urges.

Yeah, I remember the videos clearly. My identity was smothered under what felt like years of lessons telling me “You’re naturally weak, submissive, and needy. This is a direct result of your genetics. The tingle in your panties when a man tells you to kneel and suck him is perfectly normal.” Or “Unlike you, Men can think clearly without emotions or the need to fuck interrupting them. Men are able to hold jobs, use orgone magic responsibly, and have a three-digit IQ.”

I felt what the girls, and thus me, thought about it. There were some sparks of independence. “Is that all there is? Why am I inferior?” But ultimately, we weren’t equipped to resist this indoctrination. All the teachers let us do was play and talk about pretty we were. By the time we were eighteen, we were still little children, and everything even remotely intellectual we knew was designed to convince us it was right. The sex slave mentality inside us was so strong, the choker really was nothing but a safety net.

Fuck, thinking back on it, I have a hard time buying it wasn’t real. It was a formless mass of collective thoughts, but the choker ensnaring my conscience wrangled it into a life. I know what the dormitories were like from the girls thinking about the pajama parties. I remember, physically, my breasts growing fuller and heavier from their experiences. And yeah, my beloved tits I thought were proof positive I wasn’t Staz were also created by my reeducation. The choker convinced my brain I was fourteen again actually triggered a second puberty. And my normal breasts became a pair of huge, juicy tits.

And so I became Elizabeth. A submissive, horny identity I fully believed for a whole damn year.

Me, the conqueror of the Wastes, the one who ascended to the city of the skies, got railed pretty much continuously every damn day, giving away all my magic. I served Men with pure adoration while praying to a deity that is also a sex slave. I watched my friend being turned into a useless little waif and found it wonderful.

But it’s over. I’m free now. For some reason, the doctor failed to fix the tyrant under my hair. My body might be designed for sex, and I might still have boulders hanging from my chest, but I am Staz. I beat the fucking bastards somehow. And now I can actually use my fucking magic without me being deathly ashamed about not giving it to the superior Men!

Hell yeah! I’m actually more powerful now that I ever was! I bet I can set one of those bastards on fire! I can blow up the school’s gate and free the poor girls! Yeah...There would be no point in going back to the Wastes, but I’m going to make this city of perverts pay!

I get up, readjust my dress, and strut towards the nearest man, who’s reading the men’s magazine on a bench. A young, thin twink that wouldn’t last one day in the Wastes. He is handsome, very much so in fact, but I have to make a point here. I raise my hand, concentrate, and...

A horrible feeling grips my heart. My hand retreats. My stomach clenches and I have a vision of the hunky Man seeing me and unleashing his awesome powers on me. I shudder. Maybe the choker still has some juice? Come of Eli...Staz. You can do it.

* * *

Come on, you’re a free woman goddammit, act like one! You conquered gravity and the fucking choker, you...

“Can I help you, Miss?”

“Eeep!”

The man has noticed me! I gulp. In my cowering state, I probably look more like a fearful kitten than a prowling tiger. He puts down his magazine and walks to me. Oh shit. I have to blast him now. Now, dammit! Or at the very list run away...Oh, but I haven’t run in a year! I could fall!

“No need to say anything, cutie. I’m not one to ignore a poor lonely pleasure girl after work hours.”

He wraps my hands around my waist, and what little tension I had built up is gone. No. Don’t tell me I still feel safest when Men take care of me. Please. He walks me to the bench and I follow passively. I have no control. This isn’t the choker. It’s my whole childhood, fake as it is, where male teachers would randomly take my hand and lead me around. Girls of the floating city are conditioned to completely relinquish control when touched.

He tells me to bend over the bench and my body gently complies. He lifts my skirt. My pussy is all wet and ready for him. I am not free. Even without the choker’s influence, I am not the woman I once was. I am a Providence girl, raised to be docile.

His glorious rod slides into my needy hole. Pleasure shakes my whole body, and my voice comes out, cute and high-pitched. Nobody bats an eye. I am just another submissive slut. Against my wishes, the mandatory courtesy forces me to say...

“Aaaah...Thank you, Sir!”

I am still very much Elizabeth.

* * *