The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

A Pretty Doll’s Soul

Part 1 of 2

Prison had, in the course of a few days, proven much more comfortable than Flora had imagined. Sure, all the jailers were automatons and the Shinoda University was not reputed to program them with souls advanced enough to be sadistic, but her cell was clean, the bed was comfortable and she had been given surprisingly decent meals. She would have expected beefsteak and sauteed potatoes for a rich, white collar criminal, but she was a P.O.W.. Surely microwaved rations would be enough coddling in her case...

“Hmpf, they’re taking pity on me because I got captured in no time flat, is that it?” Pouted the young woman.

That probably explained why they hadn’t even bothered to strip her uniform off. They had taken her gun; of course, but still...Leaving a prisoner in her combat attire? Either they were very sure of their security system or they were just considering her threat levels to be in the negatives. Sadly, both seemed reasonable. Firstly, Flora had determined two days prior that there just was no escape from this room. It was basically a solitary confinement cell with enough amenities to be comfortable. Secondly, her daring operation inside enemy territory really had gone to hell.

“Well, it’s not like I screwed the pooch...Nobody said anything about an Asura! A bit hard to be a successful stealth operative against ten united consciousnesses unrestrained by human senses, now isn’t it? Enlist against the warlock menace, they said...”

Puffing her cheeks, Flora lied down on the bed. On the first day of her imprisonment, she had remained vigilant at all times, looking for an opportunity to escape. However, when it became clear the automatons had no need to open her cell and that there were no other viable ways of escape, she had removed her body armor and started acting more relaxed. Maybe she was being monitored. So what? Even without the armor pads, the military clothes where more than enough to protect her modesty. It wasn’t like she was particularly luscious either. Even with short hair she was cute, but small and underdeveloped for a 20-year old woman. Indeed, she was most commonly referred to as juvenile and childlike, despite her proven resolve. She was okay with it, as it convinced her otherwise reticent superiors to allow her training as an infiltrator. There certainly wasn’t any chance she’d be accepted as a frontline fighter, even in the exceptional circumstances the University presented. And God knew the warlocks were bad news for women...

“Raah, don’t think about that!” She hissed to herself, knocking her own temple.

What else was there to think about, though? The mission, perhaps. She had expected a first assignment where she could finally prove her worth, and all she got was screwy intel and ludicrously rotten luck. Now she was prisoner of the Shinoda University, the renegade Japanese state that laughed at the rest of the world with soul magic. As soon as that particular thought entered her head, though, she immediately went back to the catastrophic failure of her mission. The past was shameful and the present was worrying, but the future? She did not want to think about the future.

“Aaargh, I can’t believe this!”

Falling back to the natural behavior she had done her best to suppress during her training in Tokyo, she wrapped herself in the bedsheets and started cursing against her own fate, doing her best to avoid thinking where it was sure to lead her.

* * *

A few hours later, the petite prisoner of war was led to an eastern style office. Though scarcely decorated, it was well lit and welcoming. The automatons did put cuffs on Flora, but removed them upon entering the room. Behind the desk sat a half Westerner-half Japanese man in a western, light brown business suit. He invited Flora to sit with a gesture. She briefly considered taking him hostage, but she knew University automatons were accurate enough to easily foil that kind of plan. She thus sat down, and the man activated what was ostensibly a recording device.

“April 16th, 1922. Professor Warren Takeuchi Interviewing prisoner of war Flora Redford prior to programming.”

“1922? Don’t you mean Taisho 11? Also, I speak Japanese, you know, I’ve been living in Tokyo for years.”

“The use of English is the standard for dealing with foreigners, and the Gregorian calendar has been deemed more efficient by the conventions bureau. Besides, I did not expect a western immigrant to use the kōki calendar.”

“Your precious University making Japan a warzone muddled a lot of lines.”

“True, though I would not call it a war. An unfortunate disagreement, at worst. We have yet to claim a single casualty, after all.”

“Oh, spare me! You’re going to turn me into a s-s-s...”

The word just wouldn’t come out of the poor rookie’s mouth. True, the Shinoda University never did kill anyone with its supernatural automatons. They just captured them and assimilated them into their growing conglomerate; and they hadn’t attracted the world’s ire with the ability to bring the supernatural into this world. Oh no...They had reinstated slavery. It was bad enough for men, but those fiends even turned their own women into whore dolls.

“A slave? That’s what we’re going to determine here, private Redford. As it is in your best interests to show your good side, can I ask for your cooperation?”

“Humpf... Within reason!”

She had expected the University goons to be ruthless about frying her brain and make her a love doll, but this Takeuchi person seemed suspiciously caring.

“Alright then...Why on Earth did you decide to enlist in the Japanese special forces despite being a woman?”

“My father is toiling in your mines as we speak. I wager that is reason enough.”

“Revenge ill befits a young lass like you...”

“Yes, well, send me back to Tokyo and I’ll reconsider my carrier choices.”

“We did that in the beginning. Your government tended to execute the returnees. Besides, the souls of the underworld predict next year will be...Fiery.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

The man was, strangely, taken aback by her remark. Her brought his hand to his mouth, trying to understand, but quickly came to a realization.

“Ah, right...I forget true the women from the exterior find the concept of romantic programming abhorrent. I am not used to POWs. Nor should I be...”

“Romantic programming?! You are turning women into sex dolls!”

“Yes, a process a lot of citizens go through. Don’t you foreign girls always dream about love and fear lifeless marriages? Romantic programming erases that problem.”

“Ha, and why not the men then? Taisho has done away with simplistic views of what the sexes should be! For all your advances in animancy, you have mighty retrograde views...”

“Depends. I transformed one client of mine into a facsimile of Hiratsuka Raichou. A more domesticated version, but still...”

Flora reeled back. She wasn’t fan of the famous writer and feminist overmuch, but the way Warren had uttered those words...He actually saw women as commodities, and was dead set in reshaping her very personality. The Shinoda University was not just retrograde, it was completely and utterly alien, indifferent to the world’s natural workings. It dawned on Flora how real her predicament was. She had only hours, perhaps minutes, before she became one of the University’s dolls. All her life would be gone, replaced by an unnatural drive for love and doe-eyed obedience. She felt as if she was falling, and light dimmed on the edge of her vision as despair devoured her heart.

“No, no, please, don’t do this, don’t change me.” She mewled weakly, sinking in her seat. “Can I just die instead please, please...”

“Hey, hey! Calm down, lady! Look, I am as out of my element as you are here. My work is guiding women to a love life guaranteed to be ideally successful. Regular POWs get reassigned as enhanced laborers. Their soul is automatized to provide ideal work output, whereas I soft-modify souls for love and happiness as wives or personal servants. Do you understand what I’m saying here? The Outside Affairs Bureau has decided to grant you treatment normally reserved to female citizens of the University. This would be generally seen as a good thing.”

Flames of anger dragged Flora out of the pit, kicking, but more importantly, screaming.

“See? That’s why the world hates you! You’re insane! I’m among lunatics who think enslaving me is doing me a favor! Haaaarrgh! I can’t take anymore, I hate this!”

Able to summon her strength back, the unfortunate rookie bolted out of her chair and made a beeline for the door. Takeuchi hurriedly took a rectangular device out of his pocket and pointed it at the girl just as she was about to reach the automatons guarding the door.

She stopped dead in her tracks, brought to a standstill in an instant.

“Wh-what?!” She whimpered, desperately trying and failing to move a finger.

“I see there is no point in trying this the normal way. Yare yare, I knew this assignment would end in disaster. Damned foreigners...”

He fiddled with his device, and Flora noticed, much to her terror, that some sort of unknown energy was coursing through her.

“No no no what are you doing?! Stop it! Stop...”

“I’m just suppressing your emotions for now. That way I can help you choose your future rationally. Any second now...”

“No...Nooooohugh—”

“Better?”

After a few blinks, anguish washed away from Flora’s pretty face. She was released from paralysis, and she took a moment to regain her balance. Then she stood upright, staring blankly into space. She cocked her head a bit to the side. She felt so strange. There was perfect stillness over her heart, and she had no idea how to react at all.

“Come back and take a seat.”

Why not, she thought. She walked back, righted the chair, and sat in it. Still wondering what she should do in this strange, alien state, she defaulted to staring into the man’s eyes.

“Much better. Now, we’d better pitch into it. Remove your clothes and masturbate.”

Flora knew this was an order she would never normally follow, yet she could not bring herself to disobey. Puzzled but conscious, she unfastened her belt and pulled her pants away. Once the heavy fabric fell beyond the edge of the seat, she started sliding her finger up and down her thin slit.

“Put it inside, Flora. Rub your breasts, too.”

“Yes...”

Trying to repel the budding pleasure but helpless to truly fight it, she half-heartedly obeyed, unzipping her upper uniform, and revealing her fit, trained, yet petite body to the man. She then started pleasuring herself in full, massaging her small perky breasts and pinching her pink nipples while her other hand was sliding inside her soon to be wet pussy. She knew it was wrong, yet there were no ill feelings to go against her body’s happiness.

“Good. I will now give you a variety of questions and statements. Your emotions and resistance are suppressed, but not your judgment, so you can answer as truthfully as you are aware. My scanner will keep track of your arousal so we can find out which romantic programming fits you the best. Are you ready?”

That was it. Her enslavement had begun. Flora wished she could scrounge up any sort of feeling at the fact her body only seemed to get more aroused at the prospect, but nothing came. She was left in a still echo chamber where only her deliciously quivering slit could sing. She could do nothing but do her best to avoid moaning like a harlot and answer the magically compelling question.

“No.”

“Are you aware you are going to become a slave, as you put it?”

“Yes.”

“Do you accept it?”

“I don’t.”

“You will. No matter what happens here, you will walk out afraid of a life without a master.”

“But having a master is terrifying.”

She needed no emotions to know that. Whatever the advantages of slavery through love may be, it was inevitably condemned to be an ideal situation. It was simple logical sense that a slave would end up being mistreated.

“Is that what they tell you in the Empire? Why would our female citizens willingly subject themselves to romantic programming were that the case? All souls are being monitored for violence outbursts; husbands and owners are no exception.”

“You are lying.”

“I am not. You will be turned into your master’s ideal girl and he will love you dearly. Romantic programming will quite literally make you a living dream. Bad ends are not an option here.”

“You are...Mmmh...lying...”

Flora was now fingering a decidedly wet pussy and barely holding back luscious moans. Warren shook his head.

“Love enslavement does appeal to the patient, but artificially constructed morals are too entrenched for perspective shifting and memory preservation to seem feasible.” He muttered, addressing his recording device. “I am dreadfully sorry, Azuchi-sensei, but simple re-education of a foreign woman will most likely be detrimental to her well being.”

He then stared intently into Flora’s increasingly dreamy eyes.

“Masturbate harder and try to reach orgasm.”

“Yes...Nnnghaaah...”

“You don’t need your former world’s memories and culture. It would be best for you to be fully enslaved”

“Hiiiaaangh...Don’t...Don’t say such...Haaah...Things...”

“You will be turned into a Biningyō. A living human doll with a hybrid human-automaton body. You will know you were formerly human but be proud to be a doll, eager to be owned by a human.”

Combat data on Biningyōs, Flora remembered, stated they were less than non-threatening. Despite an eerie appearance stemming from glowing eyes, porcelain-looking skin and ball joints, they were so dimwitted and friendly they would actually help soldiers against the University.

The rookie now imagined herself as one of these precious animated dolls, desperate to help her human masters in any way she could, up to and very much including offering sexual services. The male soldiers back in Tokyo laudably spoke of them when no officer was watching. They said the sweet little sluts orgasmed for any man, no matter how poor their performance. They were so sensitive. Made for sex, and happy to be. The idea of becoming such a dumb, servile, promiscuous doll...

“No...No please don’t...Gh...Ghyaaah...AaaAAAAH!”

As she came, Flora knew. A part of her mind was already looking forward to it. There was no escape. Only the dissolution of all concerns. She still wanted to fight, but she knew she was no longer a free woman. Just a little Biningyō that needed teaching.

“Orgasm reached, positive readings across the board. Well, that settles it...Method of conversion will be depersonalization by memory erasure and transformation into a Biningyō. As such, target personality can be determined later. I will now begin the treatment.”

TO BE CONCLUDED

* * *