The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Three years ago, Bill Jamison had just about had it. His 5 years of marriage to his college sweetheart, Christine Sloan, had become nothing like it started out to be. After she graduated from college and became involved in The Women’s Equality Movement, she neither had time for Bill or what little, infrequent sex they shared. He had hoped to lead her away from her strict upbringing and coax her into the woman he always wanted her to be, but her strong will and conservative ways were no match for Bill’s sexually driven desires.

Bill had stopped after work one evening for a drink with one of his associates, when the subject of his wife came up. Larry Stewart a former business partner and long time friend was always there to lend a sympathetic ear whenever the subject of Bill’s wife came up. Larry listened attentively to Bill’s complaints and occasionally lent some words of support, but for the most part, Bill just figured Larry was being polite in listening to him let off some steam. After a few drinks, they bid each other farewell and went their separate ways.

The next day at work, Bill got an unexpected call from Larry. He had remembered seeing a web site some time ago on the Net that might be of interest to Bill. He said he hadn’t thought much about it until their conversation at the bar last night. He gave Bill the web site address and assured Bill that it sounded legitimate. Bill eagerly typed the address and soon he was staring in disbelief at the screen before him.

It was an adult site, which came as no surprise to Bill, but there was no nudity or sex of any kind. The only thing on the page was a question and an e-mail address. He read it over and over again:

“Can’t afford a divorce? We can help. reconditionher@tifbm.com

He clicked on the address and typed a simple e-mail message:

“What’s the deal?”

Within an hour, a reply came back instructing him, that if he was serious, to secure a post office box and e-mail them back with the address. They would not initiate any correspondence unless it was in a less public forum. It was so bazaar that for a moment, Bill almost considered it.

After work that afternoon, a very skeptical, but desperate Bill stopped by the Post Office and paid the one-year box rental. “What the hell.” He thought. " It was only forty bucks and it may come in handy later anyway, especially in light of his problems with Christine.” Arriving home, he logged on his home computer and e-mailed them the information.

Bill checked the box each day on his way home, and had all but given up, when he received a plain brown envelope with no return address. Nervously, he slid his car key in the open end of the flap, making a tattered cut along the top of the envelope. He was shaking as he retrieved the folded sheet of paper from inside. It contained a short, type written note:

Dear Sir,

If you are not in a position to loose several million dollars in a divorce, we are not an alternative you should consider. We await your decision via our e-mail address.

Sincerely,

The Institute For Behavioral Modification

Bill spent the evening digesting the note and trying to decipher the meaning. He found himself subconsciously adding up all the marital assets, his business, their savings, the investments. Certainly, he would stand to loose at least several million, besides, he really did love Christine. He sat down at his computer and typed the e-mail message that would change his life forever. It simply said:

“Lets talk.”

Arriving at work the following morning, he logged on and checked his e-mail. The response made him feel somewhat like James Bond:

The message read:

Instructions will arrive within a week....

Bill checked the Post Office box daily until another plain brown envelope arrived. Opening the envelope, he read:

Dear Sir,

“Transfer $10,000 U.S. into: The Bank of Zurich, account # 4893-03-A85765, as a retainer. When the funds are verified, you will be contacted for a personal meeting.”

By now Bill’s heart was racing. “Who the hell do these guys think they are? $10,000, they’ve got to be nuts!”

Arriving home, he phoned Larry, who was absolutely no help. In fact, Larry told him to either put up or shut-up! He was tired of hearing Bill whine.

Bill struggled with his decision all the following day. The thought of transferring $10,000 out of the country, where he couldn’t even get it back if it turned out to be a scam, was nothing short of irresponsible. Then again, even if it was a domestic transfer, he sure couldn’t call the police anyway, unless he was prepared to do a lot of explaining. Finally, five minutes before his Bank closed, he called them and made the transfer.

Another week passed before the third plain brown envelope arrived. His hands were trembling as he tore it open and pulled the contents from inside. He unfolded the paper and quickly read the brief message:

Dear Sir,

Please e-mail a time and place to meet discretely. Give us a week to secure the Jet.

Sincerely,

The Institute For Behavioral Modification

Bill always worked late on Thursdays. He rationalized that a week from Thursday would allow them ample time to make their arrangements and arouse the least amount of suspicion on the home front. E-mails were exchanged and the stage was set.

He nervously entered the dimly lit restaurant. Thursdays were never busy at Branegan’s and he had no problem spotting two foreign looking gentlemen seated in a corner booth.

Bill approached and introduced himself. The three men shook hands and as they sat down, the taller one called the waiter over in a heavy German accent. They all ordered drinks and began to talk. Bill was fascinated to learn that virtually their entire organization was once employed by the Division of Behavioral Sciences, specifically, the Center for Behavioral Modification and Mind Control. When the cold war ended, the Central Intelligence Agency disbanded the whole group due to budget cutbacks. That’s when they decided to put their skills to work in the private sector. For a substantial fee, they could make anyone into anything that anybody wanted. Apparently, this was a very lucrative market in today’s divorce arena. Bill was amazed to learn that a lot of the porn stars were also TIFBM graduates. Bill had always wondered where they found girls to do that kind of stuff.

After they had ordered their meal, the smaller gentleman asked Bill directly, exactly what he would like to have done. Bill admitted that he had no idea what was possible. The two men looked at each other and laughed out loud.

“What’s so funny?” asked a slightly annoyed Bill.

“Let me assure you that anything you can imagine, is possible.” Said the man.

“How much will it cost and how will you do it?”

“It will cost $250,000 U.S. and it’s none of your business how we do it, suffice to say, it will be done.”

“Oh, and we keep the $10,000 retainer.” the other man leered.

“How will you get her? I mean, will you abduct her or something?” asked Bill, innocently.

“No, that’s way too risky.” The man began, “Someone might see us or hear her scream. We prefer to use Rohypnol.” The man continued, as if Bill should know about these types of things.

Bill looked puzzled.

“You know, haven’t you ever heard of ‘Roofies’?”

Bill shook his head.

“You Americans call it the date rape drug. It knocks them out for about eight hours. They’re still semi-conscious, but unable to move.”

Bill vaguely remembered seeing something about it on one of the news programs on TV, but never really gave it any thought.

The man reached into his inside coat pocket and retrieved a small brown packet. He placed it on the table, using his middle finger to slide it over to Bill.

“Drop these in her drink tonight and call us as soon as she passes out. The phone number is on the back of the packet. We’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“How do you know where I live?” Bill asked naively.

“Please don’t insult us, Mr. Jamison. We did our homework.”

“Tonight?” Bill asked. “That soon?”

“Obviously, we can’t hang around here forever, Mr. Jamison. We hope you appreciate the fact that you are not our only client.”

“When do I get her back?” Bill asked. For the first time he began to look worried.

“If you’re having second thoughts, Mr. Jamison, now is the time to end this.”

“No! No, I mean, I just...well, you know, this is all new to me. I just feel kind of strange, that’s all.”

“That’s quite understandable, Mr. Jamison. We’ll contact you and make arrangements for another transfer after she has been reconditioned. It usually takes several months. You will, of course, have to make up a reason why she is away for awhile. But, I’m sure you’ll think of something. When the funds are verified, we’ll bring her back home to you. Now, exactly what would you like to have done?”

Bill thought for a minute. “Well I guess I would like her to be more submissive, you know, do what I tell her.”

“That’s it? You just want her to be submissive?” The man questioned.

“Well I would like her to have bigger tits.” Bill added.

“We’re not plastic surgeons, Mr. Jamison. We specialize in the human mind. However, we do have affiliates that specialize in structural and aesthetic modifications. You will be provided with a list of our affiliates when she is returned. Most are within a hundred miles of your home. Feel free to call on them anytime, but do not lose your access codes or they will not respond to you. Please understand that their fees are separate and not included in the services we are providing.”

“May we suggest a few of the more popular options?” The other man added. “They are, of course, all included in the price.”

Bill nodded. He was totally overwhelmed by this whole conversation.

“A lot of our clients enjoy seeing their new submissive left with their feelings of shame or embarrassment. They, of course, must obey their owner’s wishes, but they have an obvious internal conflict going on. Many men find that appealing. Is that something that may appeal to you, Mr. Jamison?”

Bill smiled and looked slightly embarrassed as he nodded. “Yes, that would certainly be more in character with Christine.”

The three men laughed.

“Also we can, let’s just say, ‘enhance’ her feelings of sexuality. Not just during intercourse, but during any event that you may choose. We merely install a trigger phrase that you may use to open the receptors and re-enter instructions or feelings into her brain. They will, of course remain there until you remove them.”

“It’s sort of like an open ended program.” The other man added.

Bill again nodded his approval. “Is the initial procedure reversible?” he asked.

“Unfortunately not.” The man said, shaking his head. “We’ll actually enter her brain through several tiny incisions and electrically kill specific receptors and, in some cases, entire regions within her brain. The whole thing is very complicated and is the result of years of research. Then, there is the training. Some patients require more than others, but without discipline and punishment, the subject has no idea of what is expected of her. Or more importantly, what will happen to her if she chooses not to comply. Fear is a powerful stimulant. I’m sure you understand that I cannot go into a lot of detail. Besides, don’t take offense, but you probably wouldn’t understand it any way. Lets just say it involves some key deprivations, for example sleep and possibly food. Certainly we must also include a fair amount of dermal stimulation, such as caning or spanking. We usually include some electrical stimulation to a few of the more sensitive areas of her anatomy. Don’t worry, Mr. Jamison, when you get her back, I’m sure you will be more than satisfied. Everything will be in working order and some things may actually work a little better, if you get my drift.”

After the meal, the men got up from the table and slid the check over for Bill to pay. He picked it up and reached for his credit card.

“We’ll be awaiting your call, Mr. Jamison.”

Bill was still in shock as the men turned and left the restaurant. It all seemed surreal, but he had come this far and his decision was made. If he were to continue his marriage to Christine, something would have to change. He rationalized the financial impact of a divorce and justified his decision based on his love for Christine. He stared at the small brown packet containing the powerful little pills. It had to be tonight anyway, before he changed his mind.

Later that night, Bill offered to get Christine a nice hot cup of spiced tea to help her sleep. Christine was overwhelmed by Bill’s newfound sensitivity, thinking he must be starting to accept her role as his equal in her, self admitted, ‘Man’s World’. She eagerly accepted his offer and coyly praised his thoughtfulness...

Two hours later, she was securely restrained and sitting in a private jet, staring glassy eyed into space with drool running from the corners of her mouth. By the time she realized what was happening, she’d be half way to Malaysia and the Reconditioning Center. Her screams and tears would fall on deaf ears and Bill tried desperately to block the thoughts and more importantly, the guilt from his mind. Soon it would all be over and Christine would be returned to him. Then, he could get his life back together and hopefully, start again.

Three months later...

Bill had fielded the constant stream of phone calls for Christine by saying she was caring for a sick relative. The situation was getting almost unbearable with more people asking questions, when finally he called and resigned her position at The Women’s Equality Movement, Inc.

At last, another plain brown envelope appeared in his post office box.

Christine was to be delivered Friday. His instructions were to put his car on the street and leave his garage door open. At 10:00 PM sharp, they would pull their car into the garage and he was to close the door behind them. He was to confirm the arrangements by transferring the appropriate funds into the Swiss Bank, as he had previously done.

Bill was a nervous wreck. He had fantasized about this day for three months and now it was finally here. He wondered what changes they had made in his wife and he hoped she hadn’t been put through too much. Deep inside, he realized that she must have been abused significantly. How else could they mold her into something she definitely was not? In reality, she had been abused far more than he could ever have imagined. He only hoped that she would have no recollection of it or his role in betraying her.

At exactly 10:00, he saw the flash of headlights entering his driveway. He hurried out into the garage to close the door as previously arranged. As the rented Lincoln glided to a rest, he quickly pushed the button and the door closed behind it. As they removed his semi-conscious wife from the car, he watched her arms flopping lifelessly. Her body being silently carried through the house and gently laid onto the bed. Bill noticed she was wearing the same pajamas she wore the night they came for her. He leaned over and gently kissed her on the cheek and proceeded to cover her up.

One of the men approached Bill. “When she wakes up in the morning, it will be as if nothing has happened. She will have no recollection of the events that have taken place over the last three months. At least in her conscious mind, that is. She will just remember the drink you gave her and how it helped her to sleep. She will have no idea that she has changed in any way. She will think she’s acting normally. Whatever you do, don’t act surprised by anything she says or does that is different than she would normally do. It’s very important that initially, she feels nothing has changed. Her brain will adjust quickly. Things will happen pretty fast from now on, so don’t be afraid to take charge. Remember, she’s used to being ordered around. If she resists, just stay firm.”

The man handed Bill a manila folder. “Before you do anything, please read and understand the information in this folder. It contains everything you need to know in order to get the most out of your new pet, including the all important trigger phrase. It also contains the access codes and web addresses of our affiliates in your area.”

The other man reached into a bag and produced a thick, seven-inch, flesh colored dildo. It was an exact reproduction of an erect male organ, complete with rope like veins on the underside and a large purple head.

“We call them Cunny Pals.” The man said, as he held it up for Bill to see. “It’s a pussy pacifier, actually. We use them as training aids, but some of the girls become quite attached to them. Crissi was one of those girls. She likes to sleep with it inserted deeply in her vagina.”

“Sort of a security thing, I guess.” The other man interjected. “By the way, the girls are never allowed to insert their own Cunny Pal. Masturbation of any sort, without permission, is strictly forbidden, so she will expect you to insert it for her. Also, for hygienic reasons, we require the girls to place a lubricated condom over their Cunny Pal before each use. Because a large number of our girls are being trained to go into service, she has been trained to apply the condom orally.”

“Orally?” Bill questioned.

“Yes, she’ll wait for you to remove the wrapper and position the rolled Condom between her lips and teeth. Then, she will use her mouth to roll the condom down the length of her Cunny Pal. This is an acquired talent, usually only found on the highest priced call girls. Crissi took to it remarkably well. In fact, she can roll it down the entire length without gagging. I guess you could say she was a natural.”

Both men glanced at each other and grinned, but it was obvious that Bill wasn’t amused.

I’m sure eventually, you can wean her off of it if you’d like.” He continued. “But most men find it rather erotic and choose to continue its use. Crissi will of course, honor all your wishes without question. Without going into a lot of detail, let’s just say that initially we had some problems, but Crissi eventually became quite receptive.”

“Crissi?” Bill repeated. “Christine hates that name. She says it reminds her of that bleached blonde bimbo on Three’s Company.”

“Well, things change, Mr. Jamison. Anyway, we must be off. If you have any problems, instructions for contacting us are provided in your folder.”

As the two men drove off, Bill looked in on Christine. She was sleeping soundly. Tomorrow would be a new beginning...

Bill awoke to the sounds of Christine showering. She had gotten up without waking him, which in itself was unusual.

He watched in disbelief, as she paraded around nude, drying her long brown hair. It was something she had never been comfortable with before. She noticed him staring at her.

“What’s wrong, Daddy?” she asked innocently, as she approached a rather stunned Bill. The thought of her calling him ‘Daddy’ seemed strange, but somehow it excited him.

She looked down, noticing the lump growing in the front of Bill’s shorts.

Bill felt a surge of embarrassment, as she reached down and gently removed his throbbing cock from the slit in his shorts.

She gripped it tightly and began to slowly slide her hand up and down the length.

“Mmmmm”, she cooed. “Would you like me to suck your cock?”

“What?!” Bill exclaimed, before he could think.

“Your cock.” She repeated. “Do you want me to suck it? You know, give you head?”

“Ah, yeah. I guess so.” Said a rather shaken, Bill.

Crissi dropped to her knees and sensually took the swollen, purple head into her warm mouth.

Bill groaned quietly as she began to build a rhythm, her head bobbing up and down. He mused to himself, as he remembered how Christine always considered oral sex to be disgusting. Not something that respectable women did.

He reached out and grabbed two handfuls of her silky brown hair. He savored its soft healthy texture. He remembered the argument that ensued after he suggested once, that maybe she should have it highlighted. Christine considered women who dyed their hair to be sluts and tarts that sold themselves out, by giving up their personal identity. As he stared down at his new possession, it occurred to him that now he could do anything he wanted with her and she would have no choice but to obey him.

He focused his attention on her ample breasts, lightly pinching and squeezing her erect little nipples. She softly moaned as her mouth continued to work relentlessly on his swollen cock. He couldn’t help but wonder how she became so proficient at orally pleasing men. He found himself jealously blocking the thought from his mind as he began to explode into her mouth. Christine never batted an eye as she proceeded to swallow his entire load.

After he had regained his composure, Bill showered and dressed, remembering that it was Saturday and he didn’t have to go to work. Meanwhile, Crissi was busy in the kitchen dutifully fixing breakfast. As she hummed merrily to herself, Bill busied himself perusing the manila folder the men had left with him. He was anxious to begin making some changes in Crissi and the sooner the better.

“What’s that?” Crissi asked, as she slid a plate of pancakes, potatoes and sausage in front of Bill.

“Oh, it’s just a list of people who are going to help us make you look a little sexier, that’s all.” Bill said, without looking up.

“What kind of people?” Crissi pressed.

“Well, Cosmetic and Plastic Surgeons mostly, but there’s a few hair salons and intimate apparel shops in here too. Hmmm, some shoe stores. Lots of stuff.”

Crissi looked hurt. “What’s wrong with the way I look right now?” She asked, with a frown.

“Nothing, Sweetheart.” Bill said in a condescending tone. “But you know I’ve always had a thing for girls with big tits.”

Two weeks later...

Bill entered the private room where Crissi lay, just beginning to come out of the anesthetic.

“Hi, Sweetheart.” He said with a big smile. “I brought some flowers for my new buxom beauty.”

“I hurt all over.” Slurred a very groggy, Crissi. “What did they do to me?”

“Well, I had some nice big implants placed in your tits.” Bill said with a reassuring grin, “And we made a little modification to your feet, but that’s about it, for now. Oh, and a couple of ribs, I think. Anyway, soon you’ll be all healed up and back to normal.”

Crissi thought for a moment, then she leaned her face toward Bill.

“I love you, Daddy.” She said, holding her hand out.

Bill took her hand and gazed into her big brown eyes. “I love you too, Baby.”

It took Crissi almost four months to recover fully from her surgery, but the results were far better than Bill had hoped for.

With two ribs removed, her new 38FF melons looked way out of proportion against her slender frame. The expensive boob job had crafted two perfectly shaped spheres, stretching her small nipples to a half-inch in diameter surrounded by full three-inch areolas. The nerve endings in her nipples and clitoris were treated with an experimental process called Hypersensitivity Implantation. The process exposes the nerve endings to microscopic tungsten particles. The rough crystalline particles are designed specifically to keep the nerve endings constantly irritated, making them extremely sensitive. Crissi would shudder at the slightest touch of her tender nipples or sensitive clitoris. So sensitive in fact, that as soon as she felt Bill’s erect penis enter her hungry fuck hole, she would instinctively begin humping, trying to swallow his entire length, so she could selfishly grind her sensitive little button against his pelvic bone. Her moans and animal grunts heightened Bill’s sexual enjoyment as she drove herself from one shattering orgasm to another.

Once the casts were removed from her feet and ankles, Bill made sure she had the appropriate shoes to allow her to walk comfortably with her shortened tendons. Bill had the tendons shortened in her toes as well, so even without shoes, her feet continually pointed straight down and her toes were pulled back sharply. In order to walk comfortably, her heels had to be high enough to allow her foot to be almost perpendicular to the floor. As a result, her shoes were the first thing she put on each morning and the last thing she took off at night. The stiletto heels on her shoes ran almost parallel to the soles with only a half-inch separating them. Crissi’s total footprint was now barely four-inches long. Bill enjoyed the fact that she looked like a slut parading around nude in stiletto heels and nothing else. She even had a plastic pair that she showered in. He enjoyed watching her tottering around, learning to keep her balance, as she learned to walk on the little pads.

It was at this point that Bill began to dress Crissi in a way that accentuated her now huge chest and beautifully shaped legs. He would spend hours in the various Boutiques on the list, making Crissi try on outfit after outfit. Her objections were always met with Bill’s insistence and he enjoyed her embarrassment at the way she looked. The tops always seemed to be several sizes too small, stretching the fabric to the point that her erect little nipples were always clearly visible under the skintight fabric. The skirts were always too short, making it difficult to conceal her womanhood, especially in light of Bill’s insistence that she no longer wear panties or bras. Bill made Crissi practice for hours getting in and out of the car until she could keep her legs open with her knees wide apart, without looking clumsy. The skin-tight skirts stretched across her rounded bottom caused her to take short little steps, adding to her carefully orchestrated ‘bimbo’ image.

Once they arrived at home, Bill busied himself reading Crissi’s manual.

Crissi busied herself removing all the tags and parading around in front of Bill, modeling all her new things.

As Bill perused the manila folder, he anxiously scanned the text for the infamous ‘trigger phrase’. He was amazed to find that the phrase itself didn’t make much sense. Upon further reading, he realized that it had to be something that could not be said by accident or overheard. Dire consequences may occur if she were to hear it while driving or out in public.

Bill motioned for Crissi to sit down, tapping the couch cushion with his hand. Crissi eagerly plopped down beside him, gazing lovingly into his eyes.

“Look straight ahead, Honey, I want to whisper something in your ear.” He instructed, causing her to giggle.

Crissi instinctively leaned her head over toward Bill, and giggled again, as if he were going to tell her a secret.

He leaned over and touched his lips against her ear.

He softly whispered, “Crissi, the dream ship is boarding.”

Crissi looked puzzled and then, as her brain began to systematically shut down, she suddenly began to stare into space. Within minutes, she had become catatonic. Short, shallow breaths escaped from her nostrils.

Bill decided to experiment with his new toy by making some suggestions that would both serve to test Crissi’s pliability and more importantly satisfy one of his own unusual desires.

He had already decided that Crissi would eventually become a blonde. It was not only a perfect way to personify her new image, but also serve to satisfy a secret fetish Bill had hidden from Christine, since the beginning of their relationship. He had always fantasized about forcing such a dramatic change on someone, and especially Christine, who was always so strongly opposed to doing anything artificial to her precious hair. The only problem was that now, Crissi would willingly submit to any of his desires. Unfortunately, that was the one and only disadvantage to having her reprogrammed. But he surmised that if he could cause her to resist, knowing she would eventually comply, it would be an even bigger turn-on than before.

Bill reread the instructions over again; carefully making sure he did everything as instructed and in the correct manner. He put his lips against Crissi’s left ear and in a soft monotone, began to slowly speak...

“Crissi, you will be strongly opposed to dyeing or bleaching your hair, no matter what I tell you. You feel comfortable protesting, though you know you will still have no choice but to comply. You will be devastated the first time you see yourself with dyed hair, but it will sexually arouse you. You will protest each time I make you change your hair color, yet the process will also sexually arouse you. You will feel your sexiest immediately following the act of having your hair bleached or dyed, yet you will feel embarrassed to think you enjoy looking this way. You will also have no recollection of this conversation...

Crissi, the dream ship has departed.”

Crissi began to blink, as a dazed look came over her. She glanced over at Bill as if to say, “Where am I?”

Bill had kept the instructions brief and to the point as instructed, but it all seemed too easy.

As Crissi regained her composure, Bill acted as if nothing had changed and he wondered to himself if anything really had.

Crissi turned her head and lovingly kissed Bill’s lips, forcing her tongue once around the inside of his mouth.

“Well, I’m gonna try on the rest of my stuff now.” She exclaimed excitedly, as she jumped up.

“Just a minute, Sweetheart.” Bill said quickly, as he reached out and grabbed a handful of her long silky hair. He pulled her backward, causing her to lose her balance and flop down on the couch beside him again. “We need to talk about your hair.”

“What about my hair?” Crissi questioned. “I thought you liked my hair.”

“Oh I do.” Bill said flatly. “But I want you to start playing with your hair color.”

“You can’t be serious!” Crissi countered. “Only sluts and bimbos dye their hair.”

“I’m going make the appointment tomorrow morning.” Bill quipped. “The discussion is over.”

Crissi stood up, a girlish pout consumed her pretty face.

“I’m not dyeing my hair!” She snapped, as she grabbed the pile of clothes and stormed into the bedroom.

Bill had already decided to postpone her hair appointment until after her face was done, but it would give her time to hopefully, dwell on her impending trip to the hair salon.

Crissi was coming along nicely and Bill was anxious to begin work on her face. Although she was basically a pretty girl, she lacked the fully artificial look that Bill found so alluring. After a lengthy conversation with a Cosmetic Surgeon, the stage was set for Crissi’s new face.

Bill comforted Crissi as she was wheeled into what was to become a six-hour surgical procedure. Everything on his list was going to be addressed and the $30,000 price tag seemed insignificant, if the outcome was going to be anything like Bill hoped for.

Later, in the recovery room, he watched patiently as Crissi stirred for the first time, fighting off the anesthetic. Her head was wrapped with gauze except for her mouth and eyes, which were swollen and bruised.

Three weeks went by...

The Doctor had warned that it would be several weeks before Crissi would be able to talk again and during the healing of her vocal chords, oral sex would be out of the question. The Surgeon had skillfully clipped her vocal chords, leaving only the highest pitched chords to vibrate. Slowly, Crissi’s voice began to return and once the hoarseness subsided, she was left with a sexy, high-pitched, little girl bimbo voice.

The swelling and bruising slowly disappeared and over the next several months, the impact of her surgery began to become much more apparent.

Crissi’s face was nothing short of a work of art. Her collagen filled lips begged for Bill’s rock hard cock. Her nose had been restructured and bobbed into a pert, slightly turned up cutesy little nose. Bill had cheek implants inserted, giving her face the exotic look typically found on foreign fashion models. Her eyelids had some key muscles cut, causing them to permanently droop into a sleepy, sexy stare. Her lashes were implanted with individual hair plugs removed from the lower portion of her eyebrows. Since the coarse eyebrow hair never stops growing, her new lashes would continue to grow longer and always look false, even though they were real. An ample amount of skin was removed from her forehead above each eyebrow, causing them to be gracefully arched.

Crissi’s aversion to dyeing her hair kept Bill constantly reminding her that maintaining her sexy image would ultimately include some changes in her hair color. Bill decided it was time to move forward with a more radical image.

It was the following day, on the way home from one of her shopping trips, that it dawned on Bill that now would be a good time to address his plans for the hapless, Crissi.

Without warning, he suddenly pulled into a drugstore parking lot, causing the car behind him to honk and swerve, narrowly missing his rear end. He swung into a parking space and stopped abruptly.

“Why are we stopping?” Crissi asked, with a concerned look on her face.

Bill reached over and gently caressed Crissi’s long dark brown hair, stroking her cheek with his thumb. Crissi looked lovingly over at him, as he leaned over and tenderly kissed her lips.

“Let’s go in.” He said softly.

He and Crissi entered the drugstore and Bill quickly grabbed a hand basket, guiding Crissi by the elbow to the beauty supply isle. As he stopped in front of the shelves stocked with various boxes of hair colors, a look of terror crossed Crissi’s face.

“Bill, please. I’ve gone along with everything else. My hair is all that I have left.”

“Yes, I know.” Bill interrupted, “I’ve decided that I’d like you to start dyeing your hair now. I want you to change it often. Whenever the mood strikes you. That’s what you sluts do, right? Now, I’m going to pick out a few colors to get you started. I’ll dye it for you tonight. But then I want you to start doing it on your own.”

Crissi stood motionless, sulking quietly to herself, as she watched Bill ponder over all the shades of permanent hair dye. Bill studied all the boxes intently, before picking out a shade and dropping it into the basket.

He picked up a box of Clairol and pointed to the picture. The young girls hair was a fake looking blue-black. “Maybe we’ll put this in your hair tonight.” He said teasingly, as he put it back on the shelf.

Crissi was not amused as her lip trembled. “Bill, please. I really don’t want to dye my hair. Can we go now, please?”

“Sure thing.” Bill said sarcastically. “As soon as you pay for this stuff, we’ll be on our way.

Bill took out his wallet and handed Crissi two twenty dollar bills. “Here, this should cover it.” He said, handing the money to Crissi.

“Bill, please. She begged.

“Go on!” He snapped. “I’m not going to tell you again!”

Crissi reluctantly approached the man at the register and slid the basket full of hair dyes over toward him.

As he passed each box in front of the scanner he looked up at a very embarrassed Crissi.

“Going to open a beauty shop?” He asked, as he continued scanning.

“No actually, they’re all for her.” Bill said glancing at Crissi, as her face turned a bright crimson. “She’s been wanting to fool around and try dyeing her hair.”

The cashier hit the total button, shaking his head. “You girls. I don’t know why you want to mess with nature. That’ll be $48.09.”

Bill handed Crissi another ten. “Here sweetie, I’ll take it out in trade later.” He said, as he playfully pinched her left tit.

The cashier looked embarrassed for Crissi, as he took the money and handed her some change, a receipt and the large paper bag.

Arriving home, Bill wasted no time grabbing a kitchen chair and telling Crissi to strip and meet him in the bathroom. “I want to be the one to dye your hair for the first time.” He said coldly. “I’ve never done anything like this before, but I’ve always been fascinated by the results. Besides, I think it will be fun.”

“Fun for who?” Crissi responded, sarcastically.

“Fun for you!” Bill quickly snapped. “The thought of a woman dyeing her hair turns me on, so as a result, you’ll end up getting a good fucking, right? So we both win.”

Crissi silently turned and headed toward the bedroom.

A few minutes later, she obediently arrived at the bathroom, wearing nothing but her high heels. “Do we really have to do this?” She pleaded.

Bill instructed her to be seated and despite her continued objections, he insisted she read the directions to him out loud, as he proceeded to begin the process of dyeing Crissi’s healthy, brown hair.

After an hour of chemical abuse, Crissi’s hair had surrendered its virginity, succumbing helplessly to the harsh chemicals he had applied to it. Her once healthy, sable locks were now artificially colored a bright fake looking red with two bold blonde streaks running down her left and right cheek.

“Now, that’s how a slut’s hair should look! Bill said triumphantly. “If you’re a good girl, someday I’ll take to a salon and treat you to a real professional bleach job.

Crissi took one look at herself and burst into tears.

Bill consoled her by telling her how pretty she looked, as he led her into the bedroom where he unceremoniously indulged himself in his newly dyed slut.

In spite of her recent hair trauma, Crissi performed flawlessly. And with the thought of dyeing Crissi’s hair for the first time, fresh in his mind, and the aroma of her freshly dyed hair under his nose, Bill got off in record time.

As he withdrew from her, he leaned down and whispered the trigger phrase quietly into Crissi’s ear. Her eyes suddenly became fixed, as she stared into space, immediately falling into a deep trance. Then, he quickly whispered some instructions into her ear before bringing her back to full consciousness.

He tenderly kissed her ear, telling her how much he loved her and how he had enjoyed the intimacy of dyeing her hair.

She smiled and gave him a long, wet kiss before begging him to insert her Cunny Pal, so she could go to sleep.

Bill found the entire process to be totally erotic, watching her roll on her back opening her legs widely, the bold blonde streaks framing her face against the fake looking, dyed red hair covering her pillow.

As he inserted the head of her Cunny Pal and began pushing it deeper into her glistening fuck hole, she closed her eyes and grimaced, a soft moan escaping from her lips, as she closed her legs around it.

Within minutes, she had fallen contently asleep.

Over the next few months, Crissi had reluctantly gone through the various hair colors that Bill had picked out for her. Each time she dyed her hair, she halfheartedly looked for Bill’s approval, although she hadn’t a clue as to what drove her to continually change her hair color. All she knew was that there were boxes of dye in the linen closet and she was somehow driven to try them all out. Bill would always tell her how pretty she looked whenever she dyed her hair and that somehow made it alright.

As a result, her hair was beginning to show signs of damage from all the dyeing and Bill decided it was time for him to finally take her to a salon and professionally fulfill his original goal of making her hair a harsh, porn star shade of bleached blonde.

He decided to contact one of the salons on the list.

When he and Crissi arrived at the salon, a beautiful young girl greeted them. She was dressed in a very short pleated skirt with a halter-top, tied under a pair of huge tits. As she led them to the consultation suite, it was obvious that this girl was definitely a graduate of ‘The Center’ as everyone seemed to call it. She was a perfect example of what Bill had in mind for Crissi and he immediately began taking mental notes.

He had never seen a sexier girl. Her makeup was ultra heavy, whorish in a classy sort of way, but it was her hair that really set off her image. Certainly it was bleached, but Bill had never seen hair so light and silky looking. It was so pale; it was almost clear, yet not quite white and teased to perfection. It was certainly a stark contrast to her smoldering dark eyes and jet-black eyebrows.

After they were seated, the girl lowered her eyes and nodded politely, as she turned and exited the room. A short time later an older gentleman entered with the same young girl at his side.

“Mr. Jamison? My name is Warren, Warren Mason. Welcome to my salon.”

Bill stood, as the two men shook hands. “Bill, Bill Jamison.” He said, smiling. “I was just admiring your assistant. She is truly a treasure.”

“Oh, thank you. Yes, well actually she’s my wife as well as my assistant. I call her ‘Pet’. I thought I would include her in out little talk today, since she will be the one performing the process on, uh, Crissi, right?”

Warren walked over to Crissi, who was still seated, staring intently at Pet.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Bill said, apologetically. “This is Crissi.”

Crissi looked up at the older man and forced a smile.

He reached for a lock of Crissi’s hair as she pulled away.

“Let him feel it!” Bill barked, making Crissi jump.

Warren reached out again, this time taking a large lock of Crissi’s hair in his hand. He worked it between his fingers and thumb, feeling its coarse, altered texture.

“And what does she think about the service you have requested?” Warren asked, as he examined her hair more closely.

“Well,” Bill stated flatly. “She really doesn’t like the idea. She’s always had this thing about giving up her identity. And to be perfectly honest with you, that’s one of the reasons I decided to make her do it. I kind of liked the idea of forcing it on her.”

Warren laughed, as he looked over at Pet. “I know exactly what you mean. I started dyeing Pet’s hair several years ago. I’ve had it every color you can imagine. Haven’t I, Pet?”

Pet looked down and nodded obligingly.

He laughed again. “I finally settled on this totally bleached bimbo look. She hates it, but I find it very sexy, don’t you, Mr. Jamison?”

“I really do love the color.” Bill said excitedly.

“You mean lack of color.” Warren corrected, as both men erupted in laughter.

“It started out to be just of another way to display my control over her.” Warren continued. “But seeing her with different hair colors all the time and knowing that other women probably think she’s some kind of slut. Well, you know I really feel guilty saying this, but just knowing how humiliated she must feel, being seen with her hair like that, well it’s really a turn on for me.”

Bill looked over at Crissi. “It’s really a turn-on for me too. The first time I saw Pet, well I just knew it was the look I wanted for Crissi.”

Crissi sat silently, listening to the two men discussing her hair. Something as personal as her hair color was being discussed and she wasn’t even a part of the conversation.

“Well, there are some other advantages too.” Warren went on to explain. “Sometimes I have to discipline Pet. I often enjoy punishing her by tinting her hair pink or blue. With her hair so extremely bleached, all those pastel colors take really well. Now that’s an attention getter! When I take her out with her hair dyed one of those wild colors, everybody stares at her. It makes her feel like a such little tramp, doesn’t it, Pet?”

Again, Pet looked down and sheepishly nodded.

Bill thought for a moment, pondering Warren’s comment. “For some reason, I love fucking Crissi right after she’s dyed her hair.” Bill admitted. “I don’t know if it’s the smell or just the fact that she’s made herself look different, you know, more artificial. But, I really think I could get into this all out, bleached look.”

“Well, I guess you’ve decided then. No need to discuss it any more.” Warren looked over at Pet.

Pet immediately walked behind Crissi and began running her fingers through her hair.

“What do you think, Pet?” Warren asked.

“Her hair is slightly damaged from dyeing it.” Pet commented. “But once we remove all the artificial color, it should bleach up nicely. Of course, I would prefer to cut it much shorter. It will make it much easier to work with.”

“Sure, whatever you think, Pet.” Bill added. “After all, you’re the expert.”

Crissi’s heart sank. It had taken her years to grow her hair to the middle of her back.

“So, when do you want to begin?” He asked, looking over at Warren and Pet.

“Well, Pet will make sure we have everything we need this afternoon.”

Pet nodded.

“So have her here first thing in the morning.” Warren added. “It will probably take most of the day.”

“Great!” Bill said enthusiastically. “I’m really anxious to see how she looks with her hair bleached like Pet’s.”

“Thank you so much.” Bill added.

“Our pleasure, Mr. Jamison. I’m sure you will be pleased. Pet is an expert at coaxing even the darkest hair to the palest of blonde. In fact, she rather enjoys her work, don’t you, Pet?”

An almost evil smirk crossed Pet’s face, as she looked at Crissi and nodded.

We’ll see you in the morning then.” Warren stated, enthusiastically.

“In the morning then!” Bill called out as he and Crissi left the salon.

Back at home, Bill and Crissi spent a quiet evening with Bill watching television while Crissi spent her evening in the bedroom sulking. She sat at her dressing table, staring in the mirror, mindlessly brushing her long, dyed dark hair.

By the time Bill came to bed, she had cried herself to sleep. Her Cunny Pal still laying on the nightstand.

The following morning...

Bill and Crissi arrived at the salon shortly after 8:00 to find Pet already dressed in her pink smock. Warren greeted them with a smile and signaled the pair to follow them to a room, which he called the Processing Suite. As they walked down the narrow hallway, Bill watched Crissi staring at Pet’s stark white hair. He tried to imagine what must be going through her mind, as she focused on the results of what must have been several marathon bleaching sessions.

Once in the Processing Suite, Crissi was made to remove her clothes and sit in a rather intimidating old-fashioned, white enamel barber chair. The red leather seat felt cold on Crissi’s bare bottom as she sat down.

As Warren and Pet buckled the heavy leather restraints around her waist, wrists and ankles, she looked longingly over at Bill and began to cry.

“Must you restrain her in this manner?” Bill asked, taking Crissi’s hand. “This is upsetting enough for her.”

“Unfortunately yes, Mr. Jamison. We know she’s not going anywhere, but the thought of being helpless while we work on her hair is an important part of the process. I’m sure you understand. We’ve been doing this for a long time. You must trust us, Mr. Jamison.”

“It’s okay, Baby.” Bill said softly, looking into Crissi’s helpless eyes. “It will all be over soon.”

But before Bill could finish consoling poor Crissi, Pet had coldly walked behind her and unceremoniously gathered her long brown hair into a ponytail. She reached for her scissors and quickly hacked through the thick hair, causing two feet of dyed brown tresses to rain into the cold tile floor.

Crissi sat sobbing quietly to herself, as Pet began mixing the chemicals.

Unmoved, Warren suggested the two men get some coffee and discuss some of the other services the salon had to offer.

Bill looked at Crissi, then back at Warren. “That’s it? That’s her haircut?”

Warren smiled, shaking his head. “Processed hair is so much easier to work with.” He said, as he ushered Bill out the door. “Don’t worry, Mr. Jamison, once Pet has finished with all the bleaching and toning, she’ll finish the cut. I’m sure you’ll be very pleased.”

“Toning?” Bill repeated.

“Yes, well during the bleaching process, Pet will obviously be removing all the color from Crissi’s hair. It’s rather a brutal process actually, and involves some rather strong chemicals. That’s why Pet is wearing rubber gloves. But as a result, Crissi’s hair will be left a rather unattractive shade of very pale yellow. A toner is merely a type of dye we use to make the hair a more desirable color. In Crissi’s case, Mr. Jamison, an extremely delicate shade of platinum blonde. That is what you wanted, correct?”

As the men left the room, Pet began sectioning Crissi’s hair and carefully applied a dye remover to each section, working her way over Crissi’s entire head. When she was content all the hair was covered, she placed a plastic bag over Crissi’s hair and pulled a large hood dryer over to the chair, positioning it over her head.

“The heat will make the chemicals work faster.” She said, as if Crissi needed an explanation.

Crissi felt strangely aroused, imagining what was happening under that bag. She swore she could actually feel the chemicals entering each hair, bleaching away the color. She found herself staring, with an almost childlike fascination, at Pet’s severely bleached tresses. She tried to imagine what it would be like brushing her new hair. Feeling its altered texture. Seeing it as a colorless adornment, purely for the pleasure of her lover.

In another room, Bill and Warren were busy picking out nipple rings and Warren had just introduced Bill to an ingenious new device called a Clit-spur-arouser.

“It’s really quite simple.” He explained. “We pierce the clitoral hood at the top. The ring goes horizontally through the center of the hood, allowing the little spur to constantly stimulate the tip of her clitoris. As the name implies, it should keep her in a constant state of arousal.”

Warren spun the little star shaped spur, as he glanced up to catch Bill’s expression. “I can certainly have pet install one on Crissi, while her hair is processing, if you’d like” He added.

Bill hardly hesitated. “Okay, lets do it.” Then he added. “Let’s go with some nipple stretchers too. I love the way they stretch the nipples.”

“Excellent!” exclaimed a very excited Warren. “I knew you were a man after my own heart. I’ll sell you the kit. Once Crissi’s nipples are pierced, they must be allowed to fully heal before you begin adding the spacers. Eventually, over time, you’ll be amazed how far you can stretch the nipples. You can even have them looking like fingers, if you wish.”

Bill had seen the result of severely stretched nipples and he loved the slutty way it looked.

The men entered the Processing Suite just as Pet was rinsing the dye remover from Crissi’s hair. The old barber chair was reclined, placing Crissi’s neck in the sink cutout.

Bill was disturbed to see that her hair was now a rather bright shade of orange.

He looked at Warren with a concerned look.

“Don’t worry.” Warren said reassuringly. “This is just the first application. It’s a chemical to remove the dyed color from Crissi’s hair. The day is young, be patient.”

He handed the items to Pet. “Mr. Jamison has decided to treat Crissi to a little jewelry.”

During the course of the day, Crissi’s hair was bleached a total of three times. Pet had applied the toner, which canceled any remaining trace of color and had skillfully cut Crissi’s hair into a chin length bob, graduating downward from her nape to her chin.

When Bill was finally allowed to see her, he couldn’t believe his eyes. She had become every man’s wet dream.

He could only stare in disbelief at the object he had created. Her hair was the ultimate shade of unmistakably bleached blonde. Pale and monochromatic, teased high in the back, hugging her cheeks in a sexy style. Her brows were dyed a soft blue-black, emphasized in stark contrast to her severely bleached tresses. Her makeup was heavy and theatrical. Eyes, black as coal, heavily shadowed. Shiny, bright red lips lined with burgundy. Cheeks accented with rose shadow. In short, she looked like a total slut.

Bill lifted her shirt and admired the little gold barbells adorning Crissi’s dark brown nipples. He then lifted her short skirt to expose the constant reminder of her new sexuality. Above her altered womanhood, was the thin strip of bleached pubic hair that was just hours before, her un-groomed thick, dark bush. The sweet aroma of her freshly bleached hair surrounded her and Bill couldn’t wait to get her home.

It has been three years since that fateful night when Crissi was abducted. Crissi has adjusted nicely to her new life and Bill has never looked back...