The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Wildflower of Texas

Petunia loved the end of May. Those ten days between seasons were her favorite time of the year, the time when she could put her brain to work for once. Eleven months and three weeks of hunting and gathering, of just making minor tweaks, running field tests, and fixing up old reliables could only get her so far before she was all but climbing the walls in boredom and frustration. As different as she was from her occasional co-workers, her differences were all the clearer and more poignant when the cheerleaders came to town.

Sometimes, when she was so bored with her work that she was forced to muse, she wondered if her secret weapon was the part of her that was still Cheryl Porter. Not that Petunia wouldn’t have been lethal enough on her own, with her own production plant, distribution center, and special equipment. Being half shared with her alma mater had its benefits, and the wildflower of Texas would never forget her roots. “Summa cum laude, mechanical bioengineering, Lubbock State, and all those bitches better remember it,” she declared as she got into her shower and snapped in the jet black connections of her uniform. It went well with the blood-red t-shirt that covered more than most procurers bothered to cover.

She headed back down the hall, past her experiments both failed and in progress, and grinned at her second favorite toy. “Howdy, Miss Petunia!” the redheaded cowgirl in boots, shorts that better qualified as denim panties, and a barely-there tied up plaid shirt called from her little circle. Though she waved her hat and paced, she never left the circle. Eh, she’s been good, she deserves a little fun, Petunia thought, and she put a dollar bill into the acceptor. Immediately, the cowgirl stripped off the little clothing she wore, flopped back onto her bed, and fucked the air with single-minded intent.

“Still need to work out how to mass produce these for sex shops. Little kids shouldn’t be the only ones who get to ride horsies while the family shops. Reset’s working nicely, though.” The last came with a look at her stopwatch and an eye on the cowgirl, who was back in her neutral position and previous clothing. “Tash! What time we gotta get this show on the road?”

“Cheerleaders arrive at noon, shift starts at two,” her favorite toy replied. Petunia looked the wide-bodied woman up and down, taking in the leather shorts and bustier that wasn’t quite enough to handle a well-endowed chest. As always, she appreciated the contrast of Tash’s plastic smile and the last traces of the butch biker Tash had been.

“Ain’t nothin’ better than fifty cheerleaders to experiment on. Make sure everything’s good and lubed. Other than yourself!” Petunia ordered, crossing her arms and smirking as Tash started rubbing her crotch before turning around and heading to the factory area. “Hmph. Can’t make a butch doll, Sly says. Can’t program a doll to be butch, Sly says. Why bother, they don’t sell anyway, Sly says. Well, I ain’t sellin’.” She watched to make sure that Tash was doing her chores with her usual military precision, then turned her attention to the oversized tackle box sitting nearby and wheeled it out front, where a battered Prevost bus was waiting for her.

“Another year, another class. Way to do the old alma mater proud!” the young blonde behind the wheel said with a pant, leaning forward to flaunt her assets in the low-cut red blouse that went well with her black leather miniskirt.

“First-year assistant cheer coach- gotta love them, then fuck them,” Petunia said with a smile. The blonde bombshell recognized the command for what it was and had her manicured hands all over Petunia’s cleavage in seconds, and it didn’t take long for the overalls to fold down and the t-shirt to be draped over the back of the driver’s seat as Petunia dreamed her way to the camp.

To most, dreams were unattainable fantasies that evaporated with the dawn- but for someone whose life was transformed into the most perverse of fantasies, the dream was a neverending reality. Sleep for a procurer meant the slow leakage of old memories into their conditioned brains. For Petunia, those dreams were always more intense than for others, because she had more that she wanted to remember.

Most procurers were drafted before college, young women with no hope of getting out of poverty or away from the gangs that ruled their lives. Cheryl, on the other hand, had graduated with a 4.0, but it hadn’t been enough; the best jobs only had entry level positions for anyone who didn’t have a graduate degree. The logic was simple: she needed a job to get money, she needed money to get a graduate degree, and she needed a graduate degree to get a real job. She knew that the ad from Ram Manufacturing was a scam, and she knew the gist of what she was getting into. She’d seen empty-eyed prostitutes giving their sales pitches to a father in front of his children on the bus ad bimbos too dumb to function without help. She knew about the reversals of dreams and memories, and about the missing women who would never turn up, dead or alive. She knew that the myths and legends played with in movies were real.

And part of her was fascinated with the idea, playing around with strobe lights and spinning color wheels for fun and jokes in between lab sessions. Letting go felt good; so did the idea of taking that control away from someone else.

The moment she saw the empty factory with no cars in the lot as the address for a company she had never heard of but that claimed millions in revenue, she knew what she was getting into, and the only hope she had was to be on the right side of the spiral. Back then, Ram didn’t have the drugs, or the television, and definitely not the giant- just pretty little Jenny with her copper curls and the pocket wrench that she had impeccable aim with as it split Cheryl’s cleavage.

“Shockwave generator, calibrated for... ohhhhh... sexual stimulation,” Cheryl gasped out as she melted to the ground, her tan pencil skirt ripping in two as her legs flew apart with explosive force and Jenny dragged her to the shower to be reprogrammed. Even as Cheryl’s thoughts melted into a pool of insane primal lust, she was taking detailed notes and trying to guess what the sale product was.

“Well, ain’t you just a little Texas wildflower?” Jenny drawled, checking Cheryl’s resume while Cheryl writhed and tore her clothes off in a frenzy on the floor. “Remind me of a Petunia I knew once, too.”

As Cheryl’s busy hand helped drown her brain in pleasure, the name Petunia stuck in her mind with such force that it became the name she instinctively answered to.

“We’re here, Petunia,” the ‘assistant coach’ droned to her owner for the week.

“Thanks, kid. What’s your name, anyway?”

“Meghan! Class of ‘08 Dance Raider!” the blonde replied with a programmed shake of her hips.

“Just what I like to hear. Say, you wanna try some of my lip gloss?” Petunia asked with an evil grin. Meghan happily put it on, and her lips took on a strange, almost plastic sheen. Her face went blank for a moment, then she burst into an uncontrollable fit of the giggles. “Guess you like it. Well, here’s the whole kit. Get yourself all dolled up for tonight, and I’ll see you back at my place.”

Meghan giddily tore into the makeup kit that Petunia left behind for her. Petunia tried to hide the evil smile on her face, and failed miserably. “Miss Meghan a good donation for today?” the cowboy in the red-trimmed black suit and hat asked.

“A dancer already, and Lubbock bars always need strippers. Naw, I didn’t give her the self-plasticization kit I use for women already owned by a different owner, not at all,” Petunia replied.

Red and Black smiled. “Putting that chemistry minor to good use, I see.”

“You can say that,” Petunia said with a hint of a growl, growing warm at the idea of what was waiting for her through the gym doors.

Red and Black opened the door like a proper Texas gentleman to allow Petunia through first. The other two members of their team were already waiting. “Gentlemen, our little wildflower is ready, so let’s start the first day’s field trimming.”

“Gotta say, of all the technological advancements Lubbock’s given us- the booths, the video system, the dance team training- Petunia over here may be the best,” the man in white-trimmed orange said with a grin.

“You can say that again! Someone as creative as you with the ability to make something useful out of these useless ones so the little schools don’t cry to the NCAA? You’re something else,” the man in the white suit with the maroon shirt said.

“Spare me the sweet talk or gimme some brownies, Aggie, we still lit your asses up in football this year,” Petunia taunted.

“I dunno if that means get her started or get her high, but let’s get started,” Red and Black said, leading the group to the first row of blank stares and glazed eyes belonging to the best high school cheerleaders in the country.

“You get better every year, and I thought the old alma mater was getting soft with an Indiana chick running the show. Let’s see. This one’s damn near comatose, she’ll make D-I. This one’s willing to conform, and she’ll be out cold tomorrow. And what do we have here?” she asked coyly, indicating the only set of clear eyes in the row.

“What the fuck is this place?” the feisty redhead said, her face locked in a glare ready to kill, though her body was too relaxed to move.

“Cheerleading in Texas, of course. Never heard the phrase ‘ain’t a cheerleader in Texas with a mind of her own’? Where you from? Oh, South Dakota, that explains it. Our bad. Let’s get you home. You don’t want none of this. Just wait over there and we’ll get your things. Doubt you could hold a smile 50 feet in the air while doing a quadruple backflip on the way down anyway.”

“A what?! Oh, okay, it all makes sense. I freaked out when the offensive linemen threw me after a big win. Yeah, they caught me, but- yikes, you people are crazy!” the redhead said, her tone softening as she rationalized the control and willingly headed to the bleachers to wait for her ride home.

“Easy enough. She got hit enough for a little flimflam to work,” Orange declared with a wink.

“Sure y’all aren’t getting soft? In my day, we put some nice slick tights on the cheerleaders and bowled them for weight traiing,” Petunia replied with an evil grin. Red and Black blushed.

They moved along each row, looking into each pair of empty eyes to the beautifully empty mind behind them and making their judgments.

“Uh oh. How’d that one get in there? Should be yours,” Orange said, pointing at the slightly chubby but fully entranced blonde.

“Her squad had the girls doing the lifts. Iowa, what do you expect? Look, she’s down deep enough for one of you boys,” Petunia protested.

“Don’t matter how deep she is, none of us are takin’ anything like that. Get her out of here,” Maroon snapped.

“Sure, ‘cause she can outbench and out-yell any of your bums in the white jumpsuits,” Petunia snapped back. Might be able to make something of that extra mass, though... “All right, boys, if that’s how you want it. Let me just help her over to the bleachers, and we’ll move on to the next one.”

“What do I have to do to belong?” the young black girl asked desperately, trying hard to fit her well toned body into the giggling white line around her. Only her eyes showed her fear- the awareness that her ambition might destroy her.

“Wants to give in to reach her goals and dreams, but that brain of hers keeps getting in the way. Leave her for a few days and see what happens. I think the pleasure programming will overwhelm her. Seen it before,” Petunia whispered to Red and Black, not letting on just where she’d seen it before.

“Eh, not for her. Might make a Southern belle, but not a... she’s pretty awake. I’m not sure. Better take her, just in case,” Red and Black replied nervously.

“You can say it. Just remember that pretty little Meghan’s already a brand new Sally Stripper doll. I’m done giving back to the old alma mater for today,” Petunia said, baring her teeth as she led the black girl to the growing herd in the bleachers.

One last sweep filled the section with 50, and Petunia got ready for the real part of her job. The Big Three representatives went to lunch, and Petunia headed into the locker room. Stowed neatly away between the banks of lockers was a flowered box. Petunia opened it to inspect the Sally Stripper doll that used to be Meghan. The doll was already flaunting her pasties and grinding the pole that sent waves of pleasure through her body and erased more of her mind every time she used it. A perfect finish, everything the way it ought to be, no different from the models made in Detroit- and Petunia was the only one who would know that Meghan had never touched the machinery. Petunia closed the box and called the client for pickup.

“How much again? Ten thou?” the man said with a smile, writing out the check as his assistant wheeled Meghan out quickly.

“Yep. Former Lubbock dance teamer, so she’ll be a natural on the pole,” Petunia chuckled. As soon as the men were gone with their new toy, Petunia opened up her tackle box and went through her equipment. “Sim cards for the girls’ cell phones, wrenches- always gotta have wrenches- the chocolate box, seduction soap, steam salts- better get those into the water heater... yeah, all the boring stuff Sly likes and thinks works. Now, let’s get out the good stuff...” She rummaged around in the other half of the box and started to pull out her real tools of the trade. “Man, if I ran the show...”

One by one, she laid out the devices she had made, all the things that went beyond violent wrenchings and vicious gathering of materials to the erasure techniques that got the girls ready for manufacturing. A business card rested on top of the pile: Petunia Smith – Director of Research and Development, Ram Manufacturing. She looked over her work and grinned a bloodthirsty smile. A knock on the door kept Petunia from going under her shirt at the thought of the work ahead of her.

“Hiiii! Like, I’m Gabby, and, I’m, like here to help you take care of the NAIA chicks!” the ditz on the other side of the door announced with a mile-wide smile. Petunia didn’t need to see the burnt orange tube top and white pants to know that Gabby was a product of Austin. She grinned at the possibilities open to her, pulled out a little box of press-on nails, and beckoned Gabby to sit down. As Petunia applied each one, Gabby gasped in bliss. Each elicited a louder moan than the last as the long red nails shot their wires into Gabby’s body. Petunia covered her ears as she finished the last one, so she was ready when Gabby came as loudly as she could before looking at Petunia with completely empty eyes.

“Oh, beautiful. My pretty little human wrench,” Petunia said with approval and pride as she led Gabby to the closed off final shower on the right wall. “There you go. Don’t let anyone use this stall unless I tell you to.” The procurer’s shower sprang to life as Petunia shoved Gabby in and went back to her desk, dividing up the resisters from the rejects with careful thought and planning- qualities that were lost on everyone around her at Ram, much to her frustration.

The bell sounded, and Petunia checked on her latest experiment as Gabby emerged. “Perfect,” Petunia declared, looking at Gabby’s doll legs, hair, and face- and the bared teeth of Gabby’s feral grin, one that Petunia recognized from the mirror. She looked over Gabby’s even more stunning figure in the red, white, and blue cheer outfit and gave her latest toy her orders. “Make sure you get your hands on everyone who comes in here, while I take care of the girls in the classroom. The showers will soften them up, then...”

“Attack and ready them for conversion,” Gabby said with a bloodlust that would make Paula proud and sent tingles through Petunia’s body.

“Something like that. Let them get back into their regular clothes and don’t create a panic. We need them calm for the sorting. We can do the whole chase thing tomorrow,” she said with a wicked grin as she pulled out the blue jacket, scribbled Gabby’s name on it, and put it on her new creation. Gabby’s only reaction was to crack her knuckles and ready herself for her assigned task.

Petunia headed outside to gather the dismissed cheerleaders. It was still simple enough to separate those who had fully resisted the programming from the ones that the Big Three just didn’t want to bother with for whatever reason. She called out the names and took her twenty-five to the classroom in the back, where they sat down with perfect precision as they were called. They were talking amongst themselves; a good sign, because that meant they were waking up enough to not be total wastes. Most were ready for the doll side of her plan.

The more Petunia thought aobut it, the more sh realized that her plan fit Texas Elite to a T. One completely giddy and idiotic cheerleader doll to provide the mold, one vindictive and bloodthirsty cheer captain to convert anyone who got in her way. Of course, both would really be dolls, and would do their little doll routines with the rest of the dolls, but with the captain possessing a procurer’s initiative and programming, no one would have enough time to wonder why the squad was so stupid. And when their four years were up, there would be one full-fledged American Pride for sale and one madam ready to sell her. That would keep the smaller schools from trying to keep up outdated cheer dolls, or explain why so many cheerleaders hung around the school past the time they should have graduated.

You’ve outdone yourself this time! she thought with a rush of pride that made her breasts tingle and heat surge between her legs. First, though, she had to put the plan into action. She went through the ID cards and readied her pitch for each one. The blonde from Iowa was on top of the pile. Petunia looked at the card long enough to call out, “Angie Brown!” and lead Angie behind the curtain for her “exit interview”.

Angie’s eyes were still wide, but she was waking up enough to understand that she had gotten some unfair treatment. “Should have just taken the full ride for Iowa’s cheer team. Heck, I might choose there anyway, with my boyfriend on the football team. We make a good pair. I have the Iowa high school record for shot put, after all.”

“Well, we do have an offer for you. I represent a few of the NAIA schools in Texas, and we think you’d be a great leader. You’d be more than a captain- you’d choose the team and everything. It’s a great avenue to coaching in college, ‘cause nothing’s more recognized than a Texas cheerleader, except maybe a Texas cheer coach,” Petunia said with a smile that would have made her sick to her stomach if she saw it in a mirror, but it worked, as she saw Angie’s programming kick in, the girl’s eyes growing glassy as she rested her chin in her palms and drifted into fantasies of being a Texas cheerleader.

They make that booth stronger every year, Petunia thought with a mix of school pride and professional interest as she reached into her tackle box and readied her wrench.

“Captain, right? So I’d be the one with the charm necklace, right? Always wanted that... so tiring being charmed all the time, and doing nothing but standing still makes your feet hurt,” Angie said dreamily. Petunia had to hold back her laughter, but Angie’s reaction was enough for her to move Angie from the doll column to the captain’s column. Chubby can be worked off, and she’s got the killer instinct.

“With your name on it, even, so they know who’s boss. I can explain further, if you want. Care for a chocolate?” Petunia asked, grabbing one of Cathy’s special treats. Angie was unable to resist the siren call of chocolate and devoured it in one shot. Petunia watched with a little shiver as Angie’s eyes widened and her face went slack.

That was a good reminder. If Angie had an offer to Iowa and a boyfriend on the football team, that might be inconvenient. Ram dolls were durable, but most of them couldn’t hold up as tackling dummies. Except Paula’s favorites. She’s psychotic, but she’s good enough at that. Petunia opened the case of sim cards, took Angie’s phone out of her bag, and slipped one of the red cards into the phone, transforming it from a mere communication device to a mind-warping weapon. A very simple manipulation of radio frequencies- one of the oldest subliminal technologies out there, but somehow, it hadn’t occurred to Ram that this would be a good way to have the victims erase themselves from their family’s consciousness without a second thought forever. Wouldn’t even need that many cards- once you’re done, you pop it out and put it in the next one.

But instead, they insisted on having their favorite Goliath watch over their victims and do everything manually, with a greater chance of getting caught, though Petunia had to admit that Cathy’s dedication to her work covered up the traces a little better than a simple phone call would. That kind of dedication, coupled with Cathy’s sheer bulk, was why Sly was scared shitless of her- that, and the fact that Cathy had killed Kim, smashing her skull with one throw. Petunia had been the one to see the potential in the botch-up and create the variety of drug-laced chocolates used to keep Cathy prisoner to Ram until they could figure out a way to make her a procurer. Never occurred to these idiots to ask me to jimmy the shower to make it two inches taller, did it? Could have done it in half an hour- an hour, tops, to really make it perfect and get everything in perfect proportion. But that all costs money, and God forbid.

At least the chocolates had found a second purpose: they were much more portable and less likely to show up on scans when traveling, so procurers on the road were able to use them to prep dolls and potential procurers without the extra wrenching. But that wasn’t worth having the oversized trophy in blonde and pink. Not for the first time, Petunia wished she’d been on that little trip. She would have been able to tell them that Cathy’s purity was blocking the wrench waves- Paula and Sly’s belief that “ain’t no kill like overkill” had backfired spectacularly. One clean shot to the breasts would have poisoned Cathy’s vestal soul in an instant, lowering her enough for a second shot between the legs to put her out and make her ready to sign up. But instead she was nothing more than a giant pink eraser. Waste of material. I hate wasting good material.

That reminded her of why she was using Texas Elite in the first place. She called headquarters on Angie’s phone, and after a minute of chitchat, had the name of Texas’s best NAIA Christian college to make it look like Angie was following her faith. She opened up the gym bag, pulled out the South Texas Christian warm-up suit, and commanded Angie to change into it. Once Angie was properly branded as a Texas cheerleader and a Ram product, a quick combing of her hair with the mini-wrench brush got her all excited for her new life. Petunia paraded her out in front of the other girls to nothing but happy cheers, and she retook her seat, making her decision the only thought in the minds of everyone she knew.

Only the black girl who was barely under to begin with saw something wrong. Petunia leafed through the cards and called out, “Tanisha Holland!” Tanisha followed her into the back and glared at her with real fire.

“What the hell is going on here? Some quiet girl ends up a giggling fool the moment she goes behind the curtain? What the hell? Cheerleader Melissa is a stupid horror movie. You watch. I’m a real athlete. I can outflip that doped up fool right now.”

Oh, I love a smart-ass. Especially when she’s got such a nice one. Petunia smiled and got out the dress for the lowest HBCU she could think of, her favorite destination for black girls who shot off their mouths at her. “Tanisha, hmmm? Well, let’s see what you got. I got a dress in here. Why don’t you show those whiteys who’s boss?” Petunia could feel the fakeness of her smile, and she could see that Tanisha recognized it for what it was- but also that Tanisha’s ambition was about to betray her as she flashed a wicked grin of acceptance of the challenge.

“Change out, then,” Petunia said, gesturing at the bag. She waited for Tanisha to squat and start pulling out the pieces of the uniform, then plunged her wrench into the outline of Tanisha’s ass. The sigh of delight that Tanisha gave as the shockwave melted her brain was common, but it never failed to make Petunia tingle. As Tanisha twitched and shivered with need, Petunia lay her down, dressed her in cheerleader garb, lifted her up, and pushed her through the door to start her calls, every step sneaking in a squeeze of her aching pussy as she followed her commands. There was nothing left in Tanisha’s head but the complete need thrumming in her breasts and between her legs. Petunia chuckled at the scene. There were few things she liked better than the sight of a formerly intelligent human being reduced to a smoldering blob of lust. It was programmed into her, after all. But unlike most of her colleagues, the part that made her breasts tingle wasn’t just the thrill of conquest, but the knowledge of what was happening to make her victims melt, her awareness of the overload of sexual stimulation that scrambled the thoughts until all that mattered was release- release that would never come because their tranced out brains hadn’t been ordered to come.

Petunia gathered herself and returned to her group and worked her way through the remaining 23, creating eleven more simple dolls and twelve more captains. She took pride in not using the same trick twice to bring each girl to her inevitable doom. The captains remained in the classroom while the cheerleaders waited for the bus while calling their friends, trying and failing to hide their wrench-induced maddening lust. Of course, that did nothing but make it easier to finish back in Lubbock. Petunia turned on an airheaded teen drama to give the captains their giddy appearance, then headed to the locker room.

She laughed at the next day’s girls being mortified by the drooling, thigh-squeezing NAIA cheerleaders who were mindlessly brainwashing their parents and friends with their cell phones. This batch’s minds were just awakening, but for the most part, their programming held. It was the most that sent a shiver down Petunia’s spine as she went inside to check on Coach Gabby. The results were exactly what she had hoped for. The girls were all in their street clothes, but completely stunned. Some showed the claw marks, while others had gone quietly. The wet spots on some of their jeans showed how deep under they were, while others sat with their legs open, fully flushed ad utterly confused. Not bad for shots to the shoulder or neck, thought he way some of them were writhing made Petunia suspect that they got a nice butt grab for their troubles.

“Nice job, Coach Gabby. Now go help the girls in the classroom with their nails,” Petunia said with a smirk at Gabby. She looked over the former resisters and chose her dolls out of the more out ones and got the warm-up suits on the e more awake captains. This was the key part of the experiment. She was going to have two types of captain: those who were brought from vindictiveness to the wrench, and now those who would be brought from the wrench to vindictiveness. Both would function well, but Petunia wasn’t sure yet which would be superior. Of course, bringing up girls who were wrenched in a nonintimate area was simpler, as she noticed the tranced out captains eying Petunia’s very move. On the other hand, while they were absorbing their first lessons well, she wasn’t sure if they would be too doll-like after the pressing. Then she had a thought that might break the tie if it worked, and she readied her tools.

“Your attention, please. You’ve been selected captains of some of the top lower division schools in the country. Your D-I bodies and sharp eyes for talent will serve you well, and a smaller school will let you create your own team in your own image. Ladies, you will be the team,” Petunia announced, and sure enough, the natural arrogance of the girls led to licks of lips and eyes glazing over in surrender to the wrench waves taking them over.

“Now that I’ve got your attention... how about this girl here?” Petunia went on, lifting up one of the girls who had managed to undo her fly before the trance portion of the waves froze her needy body.

“Like, Dawn? She is such a whore. The only reason she ever made it onto some squad was because she gave the quarterback good head,” a black-haired beauty in the green and gold of Texarkana said dismissively, though Petunia could tell that her eyes were fixed on Dawn’s soaked crotch. Petunia obligingly lowered Dawn’s pants to show the girl’s dripping panties. “Ugh, what a slut. She’d buzz off right in front of us if she could.” The Texarkana captain was trying to sound like she was taunting Dawn, but the words came out like a wanting fantasy.

“That can be arranged,” Petunia said with an evil grin, and she took one of her little vibe wrenches out of her bag. Dawn had it all but inside her before Petunia could get it out of her hand. The Texarkana captain melted to the floor, hand down her pants at the sight, and the other girls tried to cover up their arousal. This’ll link the captain to the main doll better than anything, but it’ll make the captain more of a doll with pretty claws than a procurer with shiny legs. Good. Less competition.

Indeed, the Texarkana captain rose with Dawn, helped Dawn put on her cheer outfit, and led Dawn outside to call her parents. Petunia called out the Texarkana captain’s name off the card that she threw out as soon as she was done with it, and reminded her to pick up her phone and call her family too.

She couldn’t help but notice that both Dawn and her captain had a hand under Dawn’s skirt as they left. Team bonding. Fucking beautiful! Brings a tear to my eye.

Both kinds of captains would be useful. Some coaches would opt for the controlled, pre-wrenched model so they would have full control over their teams; others would love the freedom of having the captain pick the team and mold them into perfect sync. Petunia worked through the permutations in her head and continued with her parade until everyone had chosen their pairings and the captains were ready to come back for their manicures with Gabby.

“Haha! Look at you! You got some cheap-ass whore school!” the redhead in the South Padre t-shirt sniped at the girl behind you.

“Yeah, because you’re so innocent, Miss My School Is In A Spring Break Drunk Fuck Town. I didn’t know beer pong was a sanctioned college sport,” the blonde with the Katy Tech logo shot back.

“Girls! Control yourselves!” Petunia yelled, seeing the scene repeat itself over and over again on the line full of bickering. Well, it’s good to see the school affiliations worked out, ‘cause that means Gabby did the wiring right, but I better rein ‘em in before someone breaks a thousand-dollar fingernail! “Let’s all shower up so we can get you to your schools.” That was enough to calm them down and get them into a solid line that stepped into the last stall one by one. Each one emerged as a shimmering doll, the various bratty smiles the only thing indicating that they still had brains under all the plastic. Petunia put a jacket on each one with the name stuck on hurriedly. That was for more than show; reestablishing identity was important to keep the doll programming from overriding the captain’s program. Sure enough, after about five minutes for their brains to reboot, the girls were busy flaunting themselves in a survival of the sexiest showdown.

Before another fight could break out, Petunia gave each one some chocolate and a guide to their new school. Soon, they were all busy creating a mold for their catches. Some eyed their team-colored nails with an instinctive understanding of the weapon they new possessed, some clicked them off to have a rub at their panties as bloodlust merged with carnal lust, and some took careful notes and sketched out their team plans.

As the first batch did their work, the second filed in, cruel smirks on their faces but none of the sass that the first group had had. When they emerged from the stall, they chuckled and laughed, absorbing their school’s protocols and readying themselves for the hunt.

So the ones who got wrenched first will be easier to handle, but they ain’t more than dolls with different programming. These other ones wanna kill like we do, and maybe some will like that, but I’d watch my back if I wanted to work Texas. She had her answer and e-mailed it out to Ram Headquarters before rounding up her captains and head cheerleaders and herding them onto the bus. Each captain found her head cheerleader easily, one drawn to the other like iron to a magnet, and the captains were aching for the next step to make their pet cheerleader into their pet doll. The idea of creating that first doll was enough to melt away the school ties and all the thoughts that were left in their heads, and they stared glassy-eyed at their seatmates, longing for Petunia to tell them the next step.

Petunia drank the sight in for a moment, then said, “These are yours to keep. They’ll get the factory processing, and you’ll be the ones to do it. We’ll be there in two hours. Coach Gabby has the same device in her fingers as you do. We’ll teach you how to use those and the quick doll making kits tomorrow. For now, surrender to the pleasure.”

Within seconds, the dolls were in their captains’ crotches and clothing was flying everywhere. The large-chested black woman in the maroon pantsuit smiled and said, “Reminds me of my first day. So where’m I drivin’ this thing?”

“Nowhere. Coach Gabby’s driving. You’ll be in the back seat with me,” Petunia replied with a slowly growing smile.

“What? Um, okay, I think, I mean- oh my God...” the woman stammered as she saw all the cheer captains taking their pleasure from their subordinates.

“Would you rather watch?” Petunia suggested, noticing that the Aggie was wearing a pair of familiar-looking earrings- ones that she had designed for an occasion like this, which would make every moan echo in the wearer’s head until she was helpless and mindless with need. She sat back and waited for the Aggie to fall to the floor with a hand desperately jammed down her pants, then dragged her back to the last row.

“Now that’s an audio wrench. How has Sly not gotten her ass arrested yet?” Petunia asked herself as she got comfortable. “And yes, if you touch them before the wrench loop is broken, you’ll wake them up, but they can touch you all you want, Sly.” She lowered her bra and let the former Aggie all over her, licking her lips and descending into bliss for the length of the ride.

As per her orders, Tash was waiting for her at the facility and boarded the bus as soon as it came to a stop. “I didn’t think there was an order for procurers,” she said with what might have been slight puzzlement on her plastic face.

“Matching sets. The ones to be processed will be full American Prides. The ones in the jackets are, well, there to make more lower-quality girls in the American Pride’s image,” Petunia explained as the captains led their mates and soon to be dolls off the bus.

“I see. Will anyone else?” Tash asked.

“They will once they see them in action. And here’s a treat for you,” Petunia added, giving Tash the gift from Maroon. It warmed her heart to see the way Tash’s eyes lit up.

“I’ll have fun tying her up for you. You need to get to the lines.”

Petunia smiled at what anyone else would have interpreted as concern and what she knew was the reminder she had set her pet doll to give to her. She watched as the captains each took a procurer’s seat on the line and smoothly concerted their other half into a fully plastic doll. There were no objections, no worries about morals, just proud smiles from the workbench and giggles from the line.

“You got a reply from Sly,” Tash said in the middle of the happy purrs and helpless giggles.

“Let me guess, she asked what the hell would anyone want to do with a vindictive bitch?”

“She said vindicated, but everything else, yes,” Tash said with a smile.

“That’s what she gets for waking Cathy up late at night one too many times. Everyone knows not to wake the Behemoth in the middle of her memories, or you’ll regret it. Bet Sly’s regrettin’ it now. Shit, she gets dumber every day. But the compliments and extra money from the schools will set her right,” Petunia replied with a beaming smile of confidence.

“So acid to the water or water to the acid?” Tash asked after looking at her notes.

“I’ll know when it’s time for them to go hunting. Both have the bitchiness right, but the ones who got wrenched first are easier to contro. I had to dope up the other girls to avoid a brawl and get them thinking as a team for tomorrow.”

“The coaches and administration will love someone who demands school spirit or literally death,” Tash noted.

“That’s true. We’ll see who makes the better hunters when we get the D-III girls tomorrow. Already scared them into resisting the next day, so we’ll have plenty of prey for all of our little captains. Have to teach them how to use the do-it-yourself kit after all,” Petunia said with a grin. Tash responded with a deep kiss that returned her to her doll state so Petunia could rest for the next day. Educating her doll to be both monitor and lover was one of Petunia’s bigger accomplishments, even if it was really her left brain giving answers to her right brain, her subconscious intuition given conscious and damn sexy form. But as Tash’s tongue began its work, Petunia relaxed, and all around her, her captains performed quality control on their first dolls.

When the morning came, the girls were up, and so was Petunia. She cleaned up the dolls and put them in their boxes in whatever pose their captains demanded. Even the Texarkana captain was particular to how her doll was positioned in the box despite being wrenched first. Petunia smiled, knowing that that meant the killer instinct had been properly implanted even in the calmer girls.

“All right, girls, time to teach you how to operate everything so you can make your own squad. Today we’ll be making dolls for Texas Elite, but don’t fret. This is the last time you’ll be workin’ for anyone else. Your fingernails there are your weapons. You can refresh them at any time. They’re wired into a system that delivers pure sexual overload. The closer to the pleasure centers you deliver the shockwave, the deeper you take ‘em and the better your reaction. You can get through clothes and underwear, but anything else is iffy, so remember that before you go right for the pussy. Truth be known, you get ‘em in the bare clit, they’re brain dead. Don’t worry, you have safety catches so if you wanna have a little fun you don’t blow your brains out. I’m the smartest procurer ever made. You think I’d do something that stupid? I take good care of y’all. So cleavage or shirt and bra-covered breasts are best. Just click your nails forward and latch on. Some of y’all may recall feelin’ this from Coach Gabby. It’s real simple, and we’ll have a full locker room chase to get your heart pumpin’ and all your juices flowin’, so get on the bus. Don’t worry, your dolls will be just fine. My Tash ain’t lost one yet,” Petunia said with a smile that widened when some of the captains didn’t want to let go of their partners and board the bus. A change into Texas Elite gear and a women in prison movie was enough to get everyone on the same page to work together, and by the time they got off the bus for the locker room they were of one mind. It was enough that Petunia felt confident in leaving them alone for a little while to talk to her benefactors.

They were either terrified or angry, and she couldn’t be sure which. “You’ve outdone yourself this time,” Burn Orange said with a scratch of his hat.

“Conversion units running amok?” Maroon added.

“Why not? They ain’t as amok as you think. They can build a chain and take their class with them. If an administrator has any smarts, it’s a perfect way to get rid of troublemakers. If you’re jealous, well, I’ll send back your little gifts and I can make my grad assistants for Lubbock instead.”

“No thanks,” Red and Black said, turning green around the gills.

“Afraid much? Now, you wouldn’t be inclined to cut my funding, would you?” Petunia asked coyly.

“Of course not, but the small schools like the idea. We’re givin’ them something useful? You sure that’s a good idea? They might get too big for their britches.”

“Well, I can send ‘em to Iowa, that can be arranged real quick. I’d find another school sooner or later.” The idea of that was enough to scare the cowboys back into line.

“Ready?” Maroon asked.

Before anyone could give him an answer, a black-haired girl lunged at Petunia, screaming, “You crazy bitch! I saw what you did! You were drugging girls! Insane fucking rapist!” Petunia shrugged her off, and Maroon sat her down in the bleachers. Two dozen more resisters were just as easily spotted, with similar reactions.

“Let’s see, spat at four times, slapped ten times, kicked twice, punched in the breasts- oh, right, you like that- and you haven’t done anything. You gettin’ soft on us?” Red and Black asked.

“Nah, I have a special treat for them,” Petunia said with a smirk as she led the girls to the locker room, most of them kicking and screaming. She had the pleasure of carrying out the one who punched her into the locker room herself, but for most the prospect of leaving this hell was enough of a lure. Once she dropped off the one she was carrying, she detoured into the office and buzzed in the cheer captains.

“Who the hell are these? They look like robots!” one asked as she looked for the exit, not caring that she was just in her bra and a short skirt.

“Hi there! I’m Angie! I don’t think you have what it takes to leave here,” Angie said with an evil smile, blocking the door and sinking her claws into the girl’s exposed cleavage.

“Hey, get... ohhhh... ohhh.... dizzy,” the girl moaned as the shockwave went to her head and she fell limply to the floor. Angie stepped around her with her cruel smile.

“Once you get one, bring it to the classroom so I can show you the next step,” Petunia instructed. Angie put her prey over her shoulder and the other captains started their hunt. What intrigued Petunia was that they all had their own style, letting their old personalities inform their new mindsets. The Texarkana captain reminded her of Paula enough to suggest a hook-up, slamming her prey into a bank of lockers and going straight up her shorts. Others played coy; still others let the victims make the first move. It only took five minutes until the last girl- a feisty redhead who kicked one captain to the ground and hid in the showers- was caught. She had no idea what lurked in the captains’ fingernails as she tried to bite South Padre’s finger off; after a second, it was a nice suck job, and in five seconds she was fingering herself. South Padre just giggled and slung the last resister over her shoulder before lining up with the rest of the captains in the attached classroom.

“All right, kids, your fingernails are your tools. You’ll get a supply of twenty per semester, more than enough for the filthiest cheer coach or dean. Now, they can buy more at any time, so don’t be afraid to... encourage them... if you see someone with potential.” Petunia heard the sound of fingernails drumming on the desks in anticipation, and she realized that she had created twenty-five monsters.

Awesome, she thought, trying hard not to cream herself.

She laid the equipment out in front of the girls, who watched it like vultures. “Soon as you get your recruit unconscious, strip ‘em fully naked and start with the soap to get rid of any impurities. Do this until they start rousing. Just like on the line,” she said, and she watched as the cheer captains did just that, all of them aching to know how to execute their core program.

“But how do we, like, totally destroy their thoughts? You know, make them giggly dumb?” someone asked from the back.

Petunia felt like an especially kinky schoolteacher, and it couldn’t excite her more. “That’s simple. You see the cosmetics? Those are our plastics. Start on the face. Order don’t matter. Then the nail polish if needed, but y’all are too good to need that.” Sure enough, as the cheerleaders came to, the captains began their makeovers, and within a minute everyone but Petunia was giggling- the dolls from giddiness, the captains from excitement.

“Nice job, girls. Faster than my friends in Detroit. Now that they’re giggly, get them dressed, then put them in the bags to your right. It’s a solid form of our coating, not much different than what protects you. Uses air pressure instead of steam, so it ain’t as durable as you are. Go easy on the handcuffs, Texarkana. You can do it with any vacuum hose, though, so you can see why it’s more useful for y’all.” Within minutes, the dolls were set up just like they had come off the line in Detroit. The makeup was a little thick, and the air-created curls were a little garish, but for small schools, this wouldn’t be a big deal. “You might want to claw ‘em again, just to knock ‘em a little more out for programming. Clean ‘em up, smooth out their wrinkles so they don’t look like a bunch of MILFs, and here are the manuals to program them. And we’re just about done.” Petunia waited for her captains to follow their orders and finish programming their dolls.

“Very nice,” she kept hearing as she led the new cheerleaders out the door and the captains back to the bus.

“Didn’t ship them back to Lubbock? You’re crazy, you know,” Red and Black said with a shaky smile.

“Don’t I know it. Some things you got to finish out yourself,” Petunia said, getting her captains back on the bus to Lubbock for shipping. This time she drove without distractions, thinking about what waited for her at home.

“Damn, girl! Home for dinner when you’re making dolls? Fast stuff,” Tash said with a hug- and, of course, a grab at Petunia’s ass.

“Low quality, but low division and bulk rate, so I could give a shit. How pissed is Sly?”

“She doesn’t get how a procurer can be a cheerleader, or how a cheerleader can be a procurer. Maybe she’s just scared the boss will have her skipping around in a short skirt,” Tash replied with a smile.

“All right, girls, get ready to head to your new schools,” Petunia called. The captains scattered, looking for the box marked with their school’s name and colors, then getting in and striking an arrogant smirk. Tash sealed up and stamped each box with its tag, then hauled them out for pickups.

“Thirty-five thou each,” Tash informed Petunia when she was done.

“That’ll show Sly,” Petunia said with a smile.

Several months later, Petunia climbed into the stands at South Texas Christian, her coat hiding her overalls as she watched Angie leading her thirty-strong plastic cheer squad. The booster sitting next to her couldn’t stop talking about Angie. “She might be a freshman, but her team runs almost like one of those big schools. Such a presence on campus, too. You don’t cross the cheer squad or not show up to a game.”

“And the team’s well-motivated to win. I hear you haven’t lost yet,” Petunia added as she looked down. She saw Angie still wearing the captain’s jacket, even while leading the squad in routines normally seen in Austin and Lubbock. As she watched her handiwork, she felt her coat unzip and her sensitive breasts seize at the brush of an envelope against them.

“Ten more for basketball season- we need those tight pants gals like the big schools got,” the booster said, winking at Petunia.

“Well, ask your esteemed captain,” Petunia replied, playing dumb while eying the extra $10,000 for supplies.

“Who, Angie? How do you think I know who you are?” the booster replied. Dropping his voice to an even lower whisper, he added, “Can you get me a nice wife with the other check?”

Petunia took a look at the certified check for a hundred thousand dollars. “A June Beaver? I might be able to handle that,” she said, grinning wickedly at the self-generated business. She reached for her phone to call Sly for a stock model, then thought better of it and kept the money for herself. Last thing I want is to hear more whinin’ from Sly ‘bout something she disapproves of. Now, let’s get the time warp goin’ for this dirty old man. Yeah, I think I know what to do...