The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Kylie woke up in a bed. There was a familiar scent. She took in her surroundings. A plain bed in a sports room lined with several bodybuilding devices and scattered weapons.

She was home. Home!

“They kept their word.”

Her last memory was going in the brainwashing machine once again to be un-brainwashed. Of course, they could have done whatever they wanted, but...she was herself, back in her home.

Free.

She bolted out of her bed. Her breasts jiggled.

“Hmpf, they’re still the balloon tits they gave me.”

She got dressed in a hurry. Her old bras were tight but not too much so she couldn’t put them on. She put on a shirt, a jacket, and fitting pants. Everything was just how she left it. Like nothing ever happened. She took her reinforced gloves. And she went to look at a mirror. She still had the perfectly smooth and hairless skin of a Pretty. She was stunning alright. But it didn’t send her into a trance.

The next thing to check was far more important. She bolted out her apartment, flew down the stairs. Ran into the back alleys.

Predictably, there was a hobo there.

“You! Hey, you!”

“Huuuh what?” He slurred, obviously drunk.

“Rape me. Right now.”

The destitute stayed silent for a few moment, understandably struggling to understand what was going on.

“Huhuh, you’re one of those little sluts heeh? C’mere...”

He walked to her and went straight for the tits. Kylie felt his hand on her. She’s been groped and fondled countless times last week, including by machines. But this time, she felt her muscles move. Her eyes opening wide.

She threw the mother of all right hooks right on his nose.

She felt the pain on her knuckles. The crack. The warmth of blood spilled. Her mouth widening like crazy.

“YEAAAHEAHEAH! I’M BACK, BABY!”

The poor hobo squealed. He didn’t ask for anything. Kylie didn’t give a shit.

She turned around and delivered a reverse roundhouse kick right to his temple, making him scream once more. Then, she grabbed his hair, knocked his skull on the nearest wall, and blew a strike on his throat with the edge of her hand. The windpipe gave way, and the poor bastard began to asphyxiate. He staggered around, crashing into dumpsters, suffocating with strangled gurgles, ultimately falling on the floor, convulsing, as the beautiful woman looked over him with a sick grin.

Kylie Heisenberg wasn’t a Pretty. She wasn’t a lovely creature. She was someone who could just up and waste some bum in a back alley. There was no rationalizing it. She was a monster.

She ran back to her apartment and, there, began to laugh out loud. It was exhilarating. No amount of brainwashing could wash over this feeling of power. She was back. And she was very much a fighter.

“Thomas Carlyle, you are so fucking dead.” She thought out loud, a wicked grin on her face.

Still, for that, she needed allies. Paradise Island isn’t some kid’s tree house. It was a full-blown resort with a security detail that, while unequipped with any lethal weaponry, was in all probability upgraded since her visit.

But where to get allies? She had to be covert about it. Strike while Carlyle still believed she was enslaved. And her usual contacts usually weren’t the ones to keep secrets.

That, and she spent every last dollar on her main bank account to buy herself. She did have other accounts, but only like ten grand between them. Nothing that would allow her to take on her target without a significant risk she wasn’t willing to take. It had to be a formality. An execution.

Kylie walked around her apartment, trying to come up with solutions, when she noticed an opened letter folded and put aside on her desk.

Not quite remembering what it was, but knowing she had put it aside, it had to be of some importance.

“Miss Heisenberg,

I hereby extend to you an offer to employ you as a private bodyguard. Rumors are as of late than one of my competitors plans to coerce you into surrendering your freedom and humanity to him. Should you accept my offer, I can guarantee you protection.

Sincerely yours,

Nicholas McAllister.”

Damn.

Of course she had put it aside. People offering her to become a bodyguard, with the obvious subtext of “you’ll guard my bedroom real close” were dime a dozen, but McAllister? When it came to organized crime, he was very much Mister Sex. The new Don Corleone. The refined emperor of badness to her feral barbarian.

And he had been right. She hoped he wouldn’t be, but one week after his letter came Carlyle’s blackmail. Obviously, the two weren’t pals, so there could be something to accepting McAllister’s offer.

Suddenly, as she thought of that possibility, Kylie’s heart warmed up and her pussy voiced up its needs.

What had been the reason why she hadn’t responded, namely, that this bodyguard job would almost certainly end up as her being his lover, was now utterly compelling.

She didn’t lose everything from her week as a Pretty. She truly wanted to love someone. She craved feeling soft and pretty in someone’s arms. Moaning in a girly voice. She was a fighter once again, but still a lover. Why should they be incompatible?

Plus she saw the criminal mastermind once. Handsome man. In his fifties maybe, but he was aging like fine wine.

She would be both a fighter and a lover, and she likely could enlist him to get her revenge. She wanted this job.

She couldn’t dial the number to the contact fast enough.

“Ah, Miss Heisenberg. I am most pleased to see you. Please, sit.”

She did, after doing a bit of marveling at is office. The thing looked like a tourist attraction, with marble and gold decorations, beautiful potted plants and a solid antique desk. McAllister, meanwhile, had kind of a Sean Connery thing going on. A mix of class and badass there was no giving the cold shoulder to.

“The Foundation has made a splendid job on your body.”

“Oh, so you know?”

“Well, I make sure to have eyes everywhere. And though I’m not privy to everything that goes on there, with your release and the much too timely abduction, I can safely assume you did that on your own.”

“You’re right. Crazy but...it worked.”

“You’re lucky Carlyle is an absolutely brilliant engineer but a dim tactician. Others would have seen through the ruse.”

“Well anyway, here I am. Broke, sexy, in need of some good old ultra violence...And a desire to fucking level Paradise Island. I’d like to take up on your offer.”

He smirked.

“I thought you would want that. But while eliminating one of the biggest earners of my direct rival is an enticing idea, it carries risk and is well above the pay grade of a bodyguard.”

“Well,” Kylie smiled seductively. “I certainly don’t mind getting a little private anymore.”

“I hoped one week as a Pretty would open you up a bit. But no, Miss Heisenberg, I’m thinking greater. I want you to become my wife.”

“Wh...What?” She stammered, astonished.

“I’ve had wives to give me enough sons to ensure my empire’s future, but you will be actually useful. Incredibly sexy and available thanks to the PWF, of course, but also ready and able to enforce my authority and carry out sensitive missions.”

Kylie didn’t know how to react. A lover, yes, but a wife? To a guy this powerful?

“Of course, you’re a ticking time bomb and I cannot reasonably let you share my life and become my closest collaborator without guarantees. Nothing as uncouth as blackmail, though. I just had my own R&D team make this.”

He reached for a drawer, and took out a leather band encrusted with flat, shining diamond studs.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? It’s a designer choker, but also a great piece of technology. We both now you’re a feral, utterly dangerous cat, Kylie, and that’s why I like you. This choker merely ensures you cannot hurt me. Once fastened, it never comes off and being reinforced with carbon nanotubes, is quite indestructible. Consider this your engagement ring. Wear it, and I’ll help you have your revenge.”

“Hey, hey, how powerful is this thing’s influence anyway?”

“Well, many women would consider it enslaving, since it silences negative thoughts from harming to cuckolding, but I’d wager you’ve experienced worse.”

He had a point. In fact, she understood. Really, a guy like him couldn’t take any chances with her. She could very well snap at any time, or just take up a generous offer to kill him in bed. She just straight wasn’t trustworthy.

“You know I’ve been turned into a slut though, if I can only fuck you you’ll probably be hard pressed to satisfy me.”

“Yes, a common problem for trophy wives decades younger than their husbands. Don’t worry though, you’ll be able to screw any woman you want. Only other men are off limits.”

“You said trophy wife. I’ll only be that to you?”

“No. I’m not a romantic man by any means, but I’ll respect you for your abilities and usefulness. Unfortunately, let’s face it, at first glance, that’s exactly what others will think. Your fists will just have to prove them wrong.”

She laughed a bit. Yeah, even though he wanted her for her combat prowess, there’s just no way they would be seen in public without her passing as a trophy wife. She was young and hot and him old and powerful. Plus, her broke ass really did need a sugar daddy.

“One other thing. I want every Monday and Tuesday off to see my former Pretty sisters during their weekends.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want you to stop keeping in touch with your loving side.”

“You have a deal then.”

She took the choker. It was really elegant, and the diamonds were just dazzling. The interior was laced with circuitry, but obviously it wasn’t to be seen from outside.

She tried to weigh her options, but there wasn’t really much to consider. She needed his power, she needed someone to fuck her, and he would let her satisfy her needs for both violence and her sisters. Continuing her life solo would just eventually land her in prison or being a sex slave for good. Refusing would be insanity.

She wrapped the choker around her neck and fastened it. She could feel it constrict a bit to adapt to her neck’s size, and buzzed a bit.

She looked at McAllister. No feelings of submission or anything. He was still an handsome man she needed in her life for his power.

“Perfect”, he smiled, before pressing a button. “Charlie, bring mister Boyle.”

An enormous man in a suit barged in seconds later and threw into the room a middle-aged man with frayed clothes and bruises.

“Please! Please, I’ll make it up to you Mister McAllister, I promise!”

“Kylie, my dear,” The criminal interrupted. “This man is an accountant who tried to embezzle me. Kill him.”

“With pleasure, “darling”.”

Kylie sent the guy flying with a straight kick to the solar plexus.

“There’s probably going to be blood. That alright?”

“Of course, the staff is well versed in this particular knowledge.”

“You really know how to talk to a girl.”

Kylie caught the embezzler. He probably had some legitimate reason to risk the wrath of McAllister. Was he being blackmailed? Did he have a son with a terminal disease? She understood he was likely to be more innocent than anything. She was just unable to care. She was allowed to kill somebody in total impunity. That’s all what she cared about. To her, he was just a basic henchman in a video game.

“Eat desk!”

She carried his struggling body to the antique desk, and hit his head against the sharp corner. Then she kicked his back with her knee against one of the edges, shaking the stuff McAllister had placed on it. In those two strikes, she had cracked her victim’s skull, torn a chunk of flesh off his cheek, dislodged a vertebrae and shattered a lifetime of hopes and dreams.

And it took almost five, entirely agonizing minutes to satisfy her urges before dealing the killing blow. After one week as a gentle little plaything, there was no restraining the beast. In the end, Mister Boyle laid on the floor, mutilated, dead, and enough of his blood flowing on the floor to throw a particularly hardcore metal concert.

Kylie stood over his corpse, exhilarated, feeling more than ever in control. Yet, she heard Alyssa’s voice in the back of her mind. The happiness in her words during the Saturday leading to her release. The relief she felt when she thought the girl she loved finally accepted being a Pretty. Poor Alyssa. What would she think of her now? Well, if she knew what was good for her, nothing. Kylie was back, baby, and she would accept no whiners.

Suddenly, she felt the gangster’s hand on her shoulder. The other part of her, the loving one, resurfaced.

“Splendid display. You do not disappoint, my dear Kylie. Now, shall we retire in more comfortable quarters?”

“Hmm...How comfortable?”

The bedroom was absolutely stunning. It was decorated like his office, but the state bed really sold the picture here. She had seen rich, but that was straight up regal. Just how much money was he raking in with his operations? She had to display her power on a guy’s flesh and bones, but his power showed in his possessions. His subordinates.

And now, in her. His young fiancee with both the power and ruthlessness of a hitman, and the sexy body of an enhanced prostitute. She was an asset. Realizing that made her feel weak. And it was appropriate, since he had begun to undress her. She had to be soft and passive, otherwise she wouldn’t feel the pleasure of sex and the warmness of surrender. She wanted his touch. Yearned for it.

He removed her shirt. And pushed her on the luxurious bed, where he removed the rest. Kylie was naked, horny, wet. Her mouth opened halfway, her legs spread out, her pelvis gently thrusting upwards. If it wasn’t for her tattoos, nobody stumbling upon this scene would even suspect she was, in any way, a violent person. Just a sweet little flower craving to me made love to.

Mc Allister then undressed himself, showing an aged but still perfectly healthy body. He clearly appreciated the show. He came onto the bed, and then onto her. When his shaft entered her yearning pussy, she let out a cute little moan.

“You definitely brought your Pretty self back with you. You’re so eager, even after killing a man...How exquisite.”

“I know...right?”

He then made love to her. He wasn’t particularly gentle, but it nonetheless felt wonderfully soft. Her first fuck as a free woman in ages. No, it wasn’t really true, was it? She was a free woman when she exerted her violence, but in bed, she was very much a Pretty. The waves of pleasure were appreciated in full, and every fiber of her being was open for more. She screamed.

“Hnnngh! Yes! I love you Nicholas! More!”

The Beast disapproved. The Pretty absolutely did not. In a loud cry of femininity and pleasure, she orgasmed. He did, in turn. She felt his warm load in her. He rested a while on her body, before moving beside her. He rested his head on his left hand, admiring her. He stroked the choker, the only piece of clothing she had.

“This ensures that you’ll have no other man. I hope I satisfy.”

“Oh you do, love. You do.”

“Glad to hear it. Nice perfume they gave you. Cinnamon, roasted almonds, a whiff of orange and some nutmeg sprinkled in.”

“Oh, fuck off,” she laughed. “Do you enjoy playing Hannibal Lecter?”

“Well, I did try. Chianti is a nice touch. I wouldn’t recommend the fava beans though.”

Kylie laughed. It was her Pretty heart speaking, no doubt, but she already felt genuine love for this man. Her man.

“Always be such a good, loving wife in bed, and serve me well with your rage, and I’ll make sure your life is a rewarding one. Do not even dream of failing me, though. You’re the chess piece closest to me. I won’t overlook anything.”

Her man, one of the most dangerous people on the planet. She reached to him and gave him a deep kiss.

“I sure as fuck hope you won’t allow me to suck at anything else than your dick.”

“Then we are in agreement. And since you’re offering...”

She smiled, and said to the older man in a falsely bubbleheaded voice.

“Sure, daddy.”

“Here she is, Mister Kershaw. She’s entering her third week of processing and melting into her new persona as we speak.”

“Everything I requested will be done?”

“Of course. A perfect little bunny slut. She already can’t have enough carrot juice.”

“Nice, nice...I can’t wait.”

The woman on the other side of the glass couldn’t hear them. All she could hear in her helmet was her own voice cooing about how much she loved to be turned into a dumb bunny bimbo. For all intents and purposes, the synthetic voice was her thoughts. The machine had turned her completely mindless, and she could only function by appropriating the slavevoice. She was gradually permitted to think again, but only in complete accordance to said slavevoice, down to the most subtle intonation.

Thomas Carlyle found this process to be quite boring, but it was also the most effective at creating a completely customized doll for customers. still, it wasn’t really stimulating.

“That’s...really sophisticated machinery you’ve got there!” Said the sweaty, unassuming man who was somehow a real estate magnate and the soon to be happy owner of Fluffy the bunny girl.

“Thank you. All my design. I’m an inventor, you see. I run Paradise Island, sure, but those babies is where the genius is at.”

“Must be awfully complicated.”

“Oh yes. Tell you what, Mister Kershaw. Since you’ve come all the way from the east coast, I’ll give you a little tour”

“Oh, my...my pleasure.”

He led him deep into the Island, accompanied with two bodyguards, where his personal lab, and also a number of his machines, were. Said machines were placed in separate rooms alongside a corridor that looked like an insane asylum ward. Only instead of curing the mentally ill, the place was designed to break the healthy.

“Here are the spare Total Personality Makeover machines for when we have more clients than usual.” Carlyle said, pointing to a large room with five machines similar to the one Fluffy was learning into. “And here, to the right, the Quick Fix. Latest technology, can roughly shape any personality in a matter of hours through neural shaping, but unsuitable for client orders. Quick-fixed girls are for when we want more pick-up slaves around the Island. Efficient but completely fucking boring.”

He ventured further into the corridor and opened a steel door. Behind, there was only darkness that was only lit by the door opening. In the room sat a chair with an incredible amount of machinery around it.

“And here is my baby. Teach Me Betty. My first ever foray in the field of automatized female reform. I’ve hated misbehaving women for a long time, and this was the solution that started an empire.”

“And...What does it do?”

“It teaches any female about proper gender roles. Put a woman, any woman, into this chair, wait a month or so, and out comes a fully domesticated, cock-worshipping girl.”

“Don’t you need to check on her progress?”

“Not with Teach Me Betty you don’t. The process is entirely automatic. It basically features two elaborate and completely life-like artificial intelligences I created. A powerful, dominating and abusive man named John, and a completely fucking vapid, submissive and old-fashioned woman named Betty. The subject has one and only one choice : Switching from one AI to the other. John keeps her down and emotionally abuses her without really communicating, while Betty is friendly and accepting, but only talks about fashion, beauty, housekeeping and how men are smarter and stronger than women. The subject is free to resist, but whenever the machine detects that she doesn’t, be it from acceptance or simply fatigue, it begins to fuck her good and say positive reinforcement in the subject’s synthesized voice. If she accepts a session of this conditioning, it shuts down until she either begs for it to come back or switches to the other AI.”

“But surely she needs to eat?”

“Yes, of course, and the machine feeds her automatically through a phallic feeder that, in the simulation, is translated to sucking John’s cock. It’s always small doses, so she needs to do it often to avoid starving.”

“And it works?”

“Always. No matter the usual resistance, the woman always ends up getting off to John’s humiliation and taking Betty as her role model. It’s not really brainwashing like for your Fluffy. It’s persuading through simulated human interaction. Betty and John are all the companionship the subject gets. Human beings are hardwired to respond to that. It all relies on my AIs of course. Weren’t they so believable, it would have no hope of working. Good thing I’m a goddamn genius.”

“And so...it started an empire?”

“Yes, Mister Kershaw! Glad you’re paying attention! Teach Me Betty was a fucking HIT. Wealthy men from all over America paid me fortunes to correct their wives’ bitchiness. I got so rich, I could work for my next contraptions full time without a care in the world. Those were the days.”

Carlyle closed the door, leaving the machine in complete darkness. The next room was rather similar. Only instead of a chair, it was a bed of sorts, with a bump in the middle.

“Show Me The Light. It’s the...machine’s name. Engrossed with Teach Me Betty’s effectiveness, I wanted to see if I could create fanatical religious worship for the very idea of manhood. Turns out you can. Takes a while though.”

The next dozen of contraptions were all geared towards creating a specific personality, some more mindless than others, and all of them decidedly misogynistic. Fellatio addict. Slutty step-daughter. Shameless skank. Straight-up sex slave...All of these were Thomas Carlyle’s experiments on human control.

“But I only hit it big with my first all-purpose mind control machine, the one that’s working your dear Fluffy right now. I don’t personally like it, watching the conversion is nowhere NEAR hot enough. But hey, it did enable me to buy an island so I’m not complaining.”

He turned to the real estate magnate.

“Anyway I hope you liked it, mister Kershaw.”

“I must say, I’m impressed by your technological prowess, mister Carlyle. I’ve toured the facilities of other mind control centered companies, it’s...kind of a hobby of mine. And none come close to your sheer creativity.”

“Yeah, well, the others are businesses. Me? I do it for fun, and basically just profiting from it on the side. It’s all about the beauty of it. Bending a human mind to your will...Mmm...BioHack is effective but crude. They turn their girls into hopeless, if astoundingly hot, bitches in heat and that’s kinda it. CreaMinds is the shit for customization but they’re about as subtle as a jackhammer. They use the utterly pedestrian method of Pavlov conditionning and think they’re smart by just using it ten times per second on a subject’s brain until it gives in. Effective in the long term,sure, but the Process, mister Kershaw, the Process!”

The self-effacing man refrained from chuckling. Carlyle could take it badly.

“What about the Prettier World Foundation?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, don’t let me started on them.”

“Why?”

“They’ve stolen something from me. At first I was impressed, but then I studied their methods for a while and...they’re not even mind controllers. Their guy is Lawrence Setton. He’s a pretty smart bloke, but he’s a biochemist. All he knows how to do is manipulate feelings and instincts. You know, body chemistry. Don’t get me wrong, he’s boss at it. But he can’t shape thoughts for shit, so he just lets peer pressure do the rest. What a poseur.”

“I...I see. Well, it certainly was enlightening, mister Carlyle. I’ll be sure to enjoy a good Veuve Cliquot in your honor this evening.”

“Please do. Oh, and if you have tastes for the orient, I hope I’ll see you at the pool, we have some lovely Quick-Fixed girls from Japan today.”

“Oooh, maybe I will, thanks...”

But as they were walking to the door leading back to the main part of the complex, it swung open, revealing a female figure with spiky hair sporting baggy camo pants and a red tank top, an elegant diamond-incrusted choker contrasting with her soldier look. The two guards put themselves between her and Carlyle.

“Going somewhere, douchebags?”

“Heisenberg?!” Growled Carlyle. “What in the name of FUCK are you doing here? You’re a slave!”

“Well, turns out that your vast technological knowledge can’t stop you from getting punk’d.”

“Who...Who is this?” Asked, fear in his voice, the wealthy client. “A rebellious slave?”

“Yeah, but it’s the PWF that did her. If they hadn’t laid their incompetent hands on her, she would be sitting in Teach Me Betty right now. Maybe it’s not too late. GUARDS!”

The two security professionals lashed out, armed with their stun batons.

“Oooh, stun rods, what an upgrade.”

The truth was, it would require guns to take down a pissed-off Kylie. Carlyle knew it. But it just wasn’t acceptable in a resort. Besides, she was supposed to be a Pretty!

Still, all he could do was watch her block the first strike of a bodyguard and break his nose with a powerful punch, immediately take out the other with a series of kicks, and then finish off the first one by crushing his eyes with her thumbs.

When the two guards were lying on the floor, one out cold, the other screaming, she took a handgun and finished them off. Then pointed the weapon at Kershaw, who was pissing himself, holding Carlyle’s arm in fear.

“Hey! Hope I’m not interrupting your bromance over there. Anyway, Carlyle here crossed the line, dude, and his dear Paradise Island is currently getting sacked because of it. Just walk up the stairs and follow the nice men in masks, they’ll lead you to where the other customers have been herded. MOVE IT!”

The customer ran, afraid, past the psychopath. Carlyle looked at her, seething.

“Who is helping you?”

“Oh, only Nicholas McAllister’s private strike force. He thinks you provide too much funds to his rival.”

“I do it for the thrill, all the money the resort rakes in has to be useful somehow, and goodwill to the mafia is nice...And might I ask why exactly you’re rolling with that strike force? You sucked their dicks for it?”

“Oh, no, I’m just engaged to their boss. Once I got out of the Foundation, I immediately took up his offer.”

Carlyle laughed. Kylie frowned, but did not break her aim.

“What did you say last time you were in this corridor? “I’d rather not waste this body for sex”? well, at least you’re honest about yourself now. Just a dirty little slut. I hope he makes you scream high and girly.”

“I can be good for something other than destroying, is all.”

“You flinched. You know I’m right. You’ve fallen, Heisenberg. That collar? Knowing McAllister, he probably claimed it was his invention. But That’s my fucking tech. Nobody can override thoughts as quickly as I can. All over the world, it adorns the neck of sluts their sugar daddy don’t want fucking their bodyguard. You’re just a good little wifey now. I can’t wait until you post vanity shots of your jewelry on facebook.”

Deep inside, Kylie knew it was true. The her from before the Foundation would be disgusted if she saw what she had become.

“Maybe, but it’s still your goddamn fault.”

She fired at his legs, ripping off flesh and puncturing blood vessels with three bullets. Carlyle fell on the floor, screaming. In seconds, his head was being grabbed by the mercenary, who whipped out something from a holster in her back.

“I always wanted to get a kill with a ridiculous weapon. I think chainsaw knife fits the bill.”

“You should be getting to admiring Betty right now.”

“The fuck are you taking about?”

“Open up door three and sit into the chair, you’ll see.”

“Yeah, how about no?”

She pushed a button on the mechanical mini-chainsaw’s handle and it whirred to life. The mind-controller tried to punch her, to little effect since she caught is arm with ease. With a grin, she plunges the weapon on his skin. The metal teeth eat through the flesh, sending chunks all over the place. He screams. she laughs. The beast is unleashed.

“FUCK YOU HEISENBERG! FUUUCK YOOOOUUUU!”

“You like women with on/off switches. I like my men with a mute button.”

A shiver of excitement running through her body, she pushed the chainsaw knife right into his mouth.

Fifteen minutes later, she emerges from the soundproof depths of the resort, covered in blood. The leader of McAllister’s squad is here.

“Are you done ma’am?”

“Yeah. You?”

“We killed all the security. All customers are rounded up. The girls too, in a different place. Mister McAllister has issued the specific order to release the customers. The Chief of Staff is here. Killing him would be entirely too problematic. He leaves what we do with the girls up to you though.”

“Does he? Ah fuck, alright, he’s the boss...How much do we have?”

“Nearly a hundred and fifty. Every single member of the staff aside from security is a brainwashed female. Cooks, accountants...Even those who handle the slaves’ physical conversion. There’s a female undergoing brainwashing as we speak.”

“Fuck...Is she salvageable?”

“According to the computer, she’s already had her persona erased and being rebuilt into a, and I quote, “Bunny slut”.”

“Then there’s no point to any of their lives since Nicholas doesn’t want to take over. Kill’em. Be swift about it.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”

At 11, the Coppelia’s front door opened. It was unusual for a Monday morning, but puzzlement in the five Pretties quickly gave way to relief and joy. Through the door, indeed, came Kylie, smiling, a pair of sunglasses resting on top of her head.

“Kylie!” They all scream in unison.

“It’ so good to see you again, girls!”

Alyssa, of course, was the first to get to her. She threw herself into Kylie’s arms, tears in her eyes. The former Pretty hugged her tight.

“You...You idiot, Ky! You’ve been gone for one month, I was worried to death...”

“I’m sorry, Lyssa,” she replied in an earnest voice. “I had to lay low until our assault on Paradise Island was ready. I never even went outside. But I got Carlyle. Now I can come every week, like I promised.”

Alyssa sobbed, but was ultimately glad. Still...

“I’m pretty mad at you for leaving us, you know.”

“You don’t look mad.”

“Yeah, well I am, okay?”

“Don’t be. I’m here now.” Said Kylie, kissing her deeply.

An hour or so later, they were all lying on the soft grass, in their underwear, around a basket of diet foods. They talked, laughed together, like Kylie had never left.

“And then,” recounted Terri in a dramatic manner, “the customer just went crazy. He jumped all over the place, stark naked, yelling repeatedly that he loved this place. Just...over and over again.”

“He did have two bottles of Chateau Yquem in his system.” Observed Selena.

“Aaaah, it really feels great to be back here.” Sighed Kylie, lying on her side.

“Well, we’re still bummed you wouldn’t stay,” replied Emily, “but sure, we get it. No skipping our weekends though!”

“Yeah, and you’ve been a bad girl!” Sneered Selena.

The seductress came to her and gave her a playful spank. The mercenary caught her and kissed her.

“Seriously though, Ky, you’ve been absent for longer than we ever knew you, and still, it feels kinda empty.”

“I know what you mean,” solemnly replied the tomboy. “This week changed me. You’ve all changed me. I crave love. In many ways, I’m still a Pretty. Look, you’re not even calling me “Ma’am."”

Her sisters fell silent, surprised.

“Hey, you’re right.”

“Did you go back to the operation room?” Asked Emily.

“Naw, I just went back into the Cocoon and I woke up in my apartment downtown.”

“Maybe there are pheromones in our natural perfumes that makes us identifiable to each other”, posited Christina.

“Could be. Don’t care though. Listen, Lyssa...There’s something I must tell you.”

She looked, sadly, into her dear Alyssa’s eyes.

“I’m getting married next month. I’ve hooked up with this crime organization leader. I was actually rather famous in my line of work. I just wanted to be his henchman, but he upgraded his offer to trophy wife. He gives me assignments so I can lash out by day and fucks me by night. He’s evil, but incredible...He’s a genius, dominates me but treats me with respect...I’m in love with him now. I can’t wait until our wedding. I’m sorry.”

Alyssa’s expression was only of puzzlement.

“And?”

“What do you mean, and?”

She laughed.

“You’re silly, my love! Marriages are human stuff, you care about that! I love you, you love me, that’s all I need to know.”

“Aaaw...thanks, love.”

Kylie, moved to tears, lock herself in a kiss. Pretties were so carefree and happy. She had almost been one, but ultimately preferred the struggle of real life to the bliss of the Coppelia. She thought it wouldn’t have been a bad choice, though. And as she carried her blonde lover to her former room, she thought back to her life before. She was undeniably more badass, but it’s not like she had the strength and protection of a criminal empire behind her. She had allies, but not true companions, and certainly not two soul mates, one for each gender. If these moments of love, weakness and pure femininity meant finding such happiness, then she didn’t know about the rest of the world, who now had to deal with a dangerous weapon like herself in the hands of a criminal mastermind, but her life definitely got Prettier.