The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Shoplifters Will Be Persecuted

Chapter 7 — Management Training

“Welcome back, princess.”

The sound of actual words, instead of cybersex moans and gasps in her head, startled Lauren. She didn’t know how long her brain had been on fire, or what kind of sordid thoughts had been in her head, but she felt refreshed. Her love affair with Jason had been wonderful, but now she was in a new department with new goals, and with what felt like a ton of new energy. “How long was I out for?” she asked the saleswoman.

“It’s back to school now. Your prom display was the talk of the store. You obviously needed some private time in lingerie- or not so private, from what I’ve heard about you and that Jason. But you’re no bra slut. You’ll see Jason again, of course. Every manager who passed couldn’t stop talking about your selling ability.” The woman paused. “How rude of me! I’m so sorry. I’m Margaret, and you’re now in career wear. We work hard here, and there are no sex pranks, just the development of that keen business mind of yours. With what you did in that prom dress, you’re gonna go places. Front window is a shoo-in for this department. After that, the sky’s the limit. You get around here, don’t get too comfortable,” Margaret explained as the blue jumpsuit pushed Lauren in front of a mirror to study herself. The black pantsuit was boring, but at least her pose was acceptably elegant, and the handbag over her shoulder was likely worth more than the outfit.

“Not bad,” Lauren said to Margaret as she was put into place. Things were much more relaxed during store hours, although the shop talk that buzzed through the airwaves was unexpected. “How do you all know so much?” she asked the room.

“You’ll find out why tonight, dear,” a familiar-sounding voice replied.

When the lights went out, she felt herself being moved into the stockroom with everyone else. She couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw almost a hundred people lined up. It looked like a giant office convention. The men were in suits or fancy coats and hats, while the women were in power suits or high-end gowns. She felt underdressed in the crisp black suit, and she cringed at the seriousness of the meeting. But the conversation was open; she didn’t feel like she was being lectured by a store computer the way she had with Ellie and Mia. These people had their thoughts, their preferences, and their disagreements. She remembered Ashlynn and Betty and how corporate, yet thinking, their brains were; Betty had had that kind streak, but in a stern, maternal way, and Ashlynn’s snobbery was legendary. As she listened closely to the meeting she started to recognize names and voices of people she had once hated, but who she could now recognize and respect as people like her.

“Don’t be rude! Lauren must be feeling left out! She doubled prom dress sales from last year, you know. They tried to duplicate her success and pose all along the chain. I can’t even begin to fathom how famous she is at some of our lesser stores,” someone said- the same familiar voice that had let her know what she was in for. She scanned and saw Alana in a red skirtsuit that screamed authority. Alana seemed glad to be remembered as she went on, “She just got done... shall we say, burning off her excitement at the role? She needs some training, but she’s going to go places. Aren’t you, darling?”

“Well, this is the only way I’m going to do that. It’s not like I’m gonna get up and walk anywhere, so I might as well learn the business end of things, right?” Lauren replied, trying just to think of something to say. Everyone laughed, and she was relieved.

“Career wear is where we teach our new managers. We have our denizens- mindless drones, really, nothing but objects meant to look as hot as they can in the most scandalous outfits we have. If I could, I would happily knock on their shells and listen to the hollow echo. They fancy themselves important, but there’s nothing to them but what we tell them. We decide who moves, when they move, where they move to, how long they sell- and who ends up in accessories or the bargain basement. We mother the new people and let them calm down so their thoughts don’t knock them off the escalators. We do everything without ever having to lift a finger. Why, we practically have a union. And all we have to make sure of is that the salespeople dress us properly. Our thoughts are free in a way our bodies could never be. It’s quite rewarding, when you think about it,” an older voice explained. Lauren tracked it to a pale brunette in a vintage black gown, and the cigarette holder that the woman held with an air of haughty elegance was enough for Lauren to dub her Audrey.

“Closer than you think, dear. My name is Katharine, and I have heard that joke more than once, though usually not from someone as young as you- a well-cultured girl, for someone who ended up here as a shoplifter. Curious thing. But I have my own section and only the finest clothes to display- and only the finest people to work with. You’ll be there sooner or later, you’ll see,” the woman said in a voice that had traces of Ashlynn in it- except that Katharine had earned that kind of respect, from what she described, while Ashlynn simply demanded it without reason.

“She’s front window. Don’t let it get to you. All the front window people are like that. They stay there for weeks at a time, always counting the people, working twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week- it’s stressful, but it’s a major honor,” Margaret explained.

“I can imagine,” Lauren said, wondering about Katharine- and wondering about herself, and how comfortable she was thinking her responses at someone she’d only met that day. But there was something about Margaret that put her at ease.

“Alana dear, give the orientation to young Lauren,” Katharine commanded, disrupting Lauren’s train of thought.

“Sure, boss. This is our office. Someone from the front window always leads. We make the decisions on all the other mannequins from the salespeople when they show up for work. You remember the intake escalators from when you came in- you’ll see them again after you finish orientation, as an intake assistant. We calm down the newbies and keep the ones who are fighting from causing too much trouble, although we leave most of that to the den mothers. Then you move up to overseer-some of the boys like to call us death from above. We’re in the upper levels of all departments, scouting for new talent, making sure the denizens are operating properly, and no one’s causing too much of a mess. And we also monitor the sales staff, making sure no one is out of line and hearing reports on who may be ready to be a denizen, who needs a vacation in swimwear, or a romp in lingerie. It’s a piece of cake, really. Then you move on to the troublemakers...” Alana recited the orientation like this was just another job, like they were HR managers in a department store, not the mannequins lifelessly modeling the merchandise. It was bizarre, but Lauren had seen enough with her own eyes.

The mindless denizens, the giggling salespeople, the soulless managers... the complicated equation that took up most of the blackboard made sense, bone-chilling, sick, twisted sense. She had to fight to keep the scream in her head from broadcasting across the entire store. This isn’t a prison. This isn’t a shell. This isn’t a mannequin body. It’s an egg. They’re just waiting for me to get lost and hatch as one of... one of them. Suddenly freedom was now the enemy, and Lauren realized that she would have to play the game at the lower levels to stay herself. She could work, she could be a good employee, and everyone knew she could sell. She was still young, still a former cheerleader who was smart enough not to jump up and down when her team was behind forty, savvy enough not to call a home run a touchdown, sassy enough to enjoy what she was given, smart enough not to get caught up in it. She could handle this, and she was ready for the opportunity.

“Works for me, Alana, Margaret,” she said, and careful control meant that was all anyone could see or hear. She listened intently- but not too intently- to the lecture going on in the front before the televisions were switched to CNBC for the rest of the night. Well, I was going to declare a business major anyway, she thought as she paid close attention to the retail report. When it was done, it was time to go to work. The blue jumpsuits were out in force, although Lauren realized that they were one to a person at this level, each one cleaning a specific person’s front and making sure they looked their best.

“Oh, how rude of me not to tell you! You get your own keeper to make sure you’re at peak performance for whatever task you’re assigned. Think of them as your executive assistant. This one’s new to the game, but I’m sure you’ll grow into your roles together quite well,” Alana explained.

Lauren’s brain almost short-circuited. She couldn’t be completely certain, thanks to the blue jumpsuit that took away every trace of individuality, but she saw glimpses of tight braids, smooth brown skin, and familiar features, and was almost certain that the person cleaning her shell was none other than Meka from the escalator.. A small part of her rejoiced that Meka was free from her shell- but the rest of her, reeling from the shedding of every pretense, wondered what had been done to her former partner in mockery. Her keeper held no device, so she had no way of asking, so she tamped down hard on her thoughts and let only the barest wisp of curiosity slip out.

“You’re interested in the keepers? Already? You certainly are an ambitious one! RVP material, no worse than regional manager. But let’s start with the basics first, okay? You’ll sell for this season. Let’s see how well you sell when you aren’t just setting people’s brains on fire with your body,” Katharine said.

“I’m ready,” Lauren said with steel in her mental voice. She wasn’t going to give up. She wasn’t going to quit. If that meant being a mannequin forever, so be it, but she wasn’t going to be a drone, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to be a giggling idiot with nothing but fashion on her mind. The management seemed worse, from the looks of the managers she had seen, but she didn’t want to think about that. She was bound to fight whatever was happening to everyone.

Hands pulled at her black pantsuit until it was perfectly in line, and the prod closed her hands around a leather portfolio. Meka- her keeper, whatever that meant- pushed her into place and made sure everything was perfect before heading to the back to wheel out more racks of merchandise.

One day bled into another, and the days became weeks, and the weeks became months. Katharine’s challenge to her had fired her up to sell, and it was easier than it had been with Jason and the scanty clothes of juniors; all she had to do was discuss business with Margaret or Alana and go over the stats and sales of the whole store, and the air of success that they gave off was enough for an ambitious woman to load up on a Darryl’s wardrobe. She could tell that things were looking up for the company. It helped the mood of the department that everyone was jovial at the amount of shoplifters that were being caught and sent into plastic, and how sales were progressing as a result. She could pretend to be as thrilled as the others at the success of their hunts.

The worst part she had to deal with was the cruelty of the others- not their satisfaction at finding shoplifters, but their joy at welcoming another innocent person into the world of plastic. How can anyone enjoy seeing other people go through the same thing you’ve been through? she wondered more than once. As the weeks went on, though, she understood that someone like Margaret or Alana would be more inclined to see herself as a mannequin than as a human. It was creepy, but then again, Lauren had made the same decision. Walking the earth couldn’t happen unless she lost her entire self and became some sort of worker drone loyal to Darryl’s Department Stores, so she had let herself become content with being frozen in plastic- that way, at least she was still Lauren.

In that way, the career wear section was interesting. Everyone was on the move, so she didn’t get attached to anyone the way she had on the escalator or with Jason in sporting goods. Days and weeks weren’t as clear as they had been in the real world, but Lauren was aware that she hadn’t seen or heard Margaret for a very long time when Alana interrupted her thoughts. “Katharine says it’s time for you to go on the move. You’ve learned enough, and your suits have been flying off the racks. Good show! You’re going to be with me for the short term. Hopefully you’ll be more disciplined than Margaret. Seeing those rebels, siding with their thievery- I’ve never seen anything like it in my life, and Katharine was- but that’s not important now, she’s condemned to walk the earth, and sales will be a good job for her. We’ll move someone into both your places. Den mothering is a simple job. You get to be right in their field of view, calming them and letting them know that this state isn’t punishment, but opportunity. I’ll handle the ones who haven’t been assignable yet so they don’t cause too much trouble,” Alana explained.

Lauren’s brain was several sentences behind. Rebel at heart? Margaret? What- no, it can’t be- but it’s a short form- no, they want me to go crazy, and I have to stay sane. She thought no more about it, trying instead to focus on what was being done to her. Her keeper lowered her to the ground put a pair of black tights on her, and placed her in a suggestive but dignified lounging position that she could tell was slanted to see the entire escalator.

“And into the toaster we go. Remember, you get the new ones who will fill the empty spaces,” Alana explained to Lauren as the platform rose up. Soon, they were overlooking the escalator. She could hear the please for help, the fear, the confusion, the screaming out into the emptiness- and from the ones who had been there longer, the taunts and the cursing. “Remember, they don’t know about the interface. They think they’re going mad.”

“Because mannequins can’t talk.”

“Exactly.”

The first half of the day, Lauren took notes on Alana as she dealt with the girls and their taunts and bickering. It reminded her so much of Ashlynn that it was scary; if she gave up here, gave up too soon, she’d become some robot denizen or a soulless manager, a flesh shell instead of a plastic one. But she heard the conflict and put herself back in the shoes of the others there: scared, not knowing if they were alive or dead, unable to move, or breath, or feel their heartbeat, unable to do anything but think. Soon, one of the sales women came down with a new shoplifter, and if the outfit she was wearing was any indication, she was going to be trouble; she’d been put in fishnet stockings, metal-studded sandals, a leather skirt and jacket, and a torn T-shirt. The salesperson had no sympathy for the girl, growling slightly at her as she screwed the pedestal into place.

“What the fuck did you cocksucking fucks do to me? If you wanna kill me, do it face to face and put a knife through my heart like a real person. Don’t drwon me in this shit and turn me into some fucking mummy!” the girl screamed at anyone who could hear, and son the other girls were close to starting an aural riot with their screams of agreement.

“For reasons like this, the escalators aren’t connected with the broadcast interface, but if you could... persuade... that child to turn off the sailor talk, it would be greatly appreciated. I don’t know why vandals and troublemakers get the same treatment as those who... appreciate... our fine merchandise,” Alana said privately to Lauren.

Lauren mustered up her courage and tried to comfort the angry young woman. “Your punishment was the drugs and the machine. Being beautiful and unaging forever- that’s your chance to shine without the drag of work, or your mother telling you not to go outside like that.”

“Shit, why I gotta be hearing boring voices? If you’re real, I’m gonna wring your fucking neck. If you ain’t real, get the fuck out of my head. What the fuck is going on here?”

“Company internet. Whole store’s a chatroom, for the most part. I’m Lauren, lying down in the stockings. I used to be like you, but I swear you ain’t dead yet... motherfucker.”

“Who you calling a motherfucker, bitch?”

“Don’t you have any appreciation for the classics? You’re the one who started with the foul language. I’m just trying to find words you’ll understand.”

“Jeez, now I’m hearing my mom! Still would knock that mannequin over! Those girls were staring at me, and I could hear them, like I’m hearing you- oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck...” The girl’s voice trailed off in confusion and the first trace of fear Lauren had heard from her.

Alana’s cold, furious voice crept into Lauren’s head. “She did what? And they’re letting her- oh, no, this won’t do! She tried to kill one of us! How are you not furious? Thank God the shell didn’t crack- we’d have heard about that. But they gave her the privilege of permanent beauty? Her? How- say something, Lauren!”

Maybe if you’d shut up and let me think... If Lauren had still had working lungs, she would have taken a deep breath. “Next time, that could very well be you. I’m sure that, if you were bothering to listen to anything other than the sound of your own cursing, the scientists told you that you’re body’s in there. You just can’t feel it. Now, I don’t know what happens if you break the shell, but a punk like you would make a good guinea pig.” She paused. Could she really be defending being a mannequin? Well, she deserves it. We’re all safer with her not being able to move. If I could only shut her up...

“If you wanna be asshole enough to kill me, pull a gun! You ain’t getting rid of Vicious Victoria that easy! And when my gang shows up to get me out of here- yeah, I’d love to see your blonde ass in a million little pieces- and that’s if you’re real. I’ll bet you’re one of them, trying to drive me nuts so I fall asleep and die. Fuck that! I’ll sleep when I’m dead, and I ain’t sleepy yet!”

“I don’t know what kind of lunatic you are, but let me tell you this. I was you when I got here, and all I did was try and lift a skirt. But I’ve made a life here. I have a job, a boyfriend, and years of knowledge. And inside this shell, I’m still nineteen. You have a shot to be something more than a foul-mouthed gangbanger, so shut up and try to be a better person, and maybe they’ll let you go.” She wasn’t sure how much of it she believed, much less how much Victoria believed, but Victoria seemed to believe enough to drift off into her own thoughts.

“You seem tired. With her yelling, I can’t blame you. My God, what have we become? They’ll take anyone. I’m sorry that had to be your first test. They aren’t like that, mostly. I’ll make sure she goes right to the bargain basement. She doesn’t belong here. I’d like to know the salesperson who authorized her for the mannequin corps. This isn’t over. Have a full report ready for the meeting.”

“Sure,” Lauren said. Something nagged at her that she was slipping, but she had to admit she had handled herself with more grace under pressure than she had realized she was capable of. She loved her new-found resolve and got ready to use it to her advantage. The other incoming girls were easier. Some prayed for forgiveness, still thinking that they were dead. Others just demanded freedom, which Lauren laughed at inside now that she knew freedom was the last thing she wanted.

In the meeting, the incident with Victoria was the main point of discussion. “Margaret was the one who found her. She had pushed over Kari, one of our denizens in juniors. The child has mental problems and apparently heard the advertising. And Kari is in... rebel apparel, let us say... so the appeal would make sense. Margaret never enjoyed being one of us, but she’s a good salesperson, and she’s barely been walking the floor, so it makes sense that she would just take her to the back instead of throwing her in jail where she belongs. We give them such good instincts, after all. And they’ve lowered standards, God help us all,” Alana explained.

“Kari is well,” Katharine reassured them. “Slight intercranial disturbance. It would have been a more serious concern if she weren’t a denizen, but we know our denizens, don’t we? She’s being repaired. In the meantime, Angie will take her place. Yes, I know she’s new, but she has become a denizen without a hitch. We’re uploading the programming, and she’ll look darling. The issue is Victoria and others like her. We have had a spike in these kinds of troublemakers. Our ranks are now an even thousand, and while we rotate more out to our sister stores, we are Store 1. We are special- or so I thought. Now I see people drafted into duty for such dreadful behavior as fighting. Not just that- I’ve been told that one of the new lingerie girls got there for having sex in the dressing room! They’ll take anyone, not just runaways, shoplifters, and deadbeats. We need to speak up!”

Lauren had been shocked before at how much the other mannequins saw themselves as their own race of beings, but she understood what Victoria had done and was just as angry- angry enough not to be listening to all the fine details of how the new denizen was being prepared. She shuddered to think what the next step would be, but she knew in her gut (or something much like it in her plastic shell) that Victoria deserved the worst they could give her.

“I say just send her straight to the bargain basement! No qualms about that! She didn’t do anything to indicate she’d fit in and understand our culture at all- so let’s make sure we don’t have to worry about her,” Alana said with more assertiveness than Lauren had ever heard from her.

As vehement as Alana was being about it, Lauren dreaded what might be waiting down there for Victoria- but whatever it is, she deserves it! And who am I to question store discipline? Still, she was surprised at how fervently she agreed with the curses that some of her colleagues threw at Victoria for daring to attack one of them. “Now, let us check the stock report,” Katharine said, and everyone turned their attention to her and the television to prepare for another cycle of intake and making the newcomers proud to be mannequins for the best store in the world.