The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

He’d fucked her, like a doll, instead of helping her. Adria angrily wiped off her boss’s cum with damp paper towels. She dried her face and looked at it in the mirror.

The first thing catching her eye was her lips were now neon pink, practically glowing in their cocksucking O-shape. They stood out like a flag, marking her as a whore. She burned with shame. Was that what her coworkers had been staring at? Adria rubbed the neon with soap and water but it wasn’t coming off.

The second thing she noticed was that she had no teeth! She didn’t know where they had gone—retracted, or dissolved. The interior of her mouth had become a soft, narrow hole, with a tongue at the bottom. It was designed for sucking cock and licking pussy, and that was all.

The more subtle effect was her skin. It looked weird. Smooth, uniform. Inhuman. It looked like... skin-colored latex. Adria leaned in close to the mirror, trying to see her pores and natural wrinkles. There just weren’t any. She was a doll, more than ever, and found it filled her with delight. Adria looked away from the mirror and tried to slow her breathing, willing her excited private parts to calm down.

She looked back and drool was running from her open mouth, down her freshly cleaned chin. Adria wiped it up with a finger and sucked the drool off the finger. It would be so easy to just embrace this, to just accept that this was her. It felt so good to look at herself, to know she was a toy, endorphins surging artificially at the thought.

But Debbie had done this to her. Adria had to get revenge, she couldn’t let Debbie win.

She used the toilet—what came out was smaller this time, maybe she’d lost all the weight she was going to lose?

Adria had one last hope. The only place she had access to, that would have the drugs needed to cure her.

“Hey, there’s like, a doll in the lobby,” said Mira, coming back from lunch and throwing on a fresh lab coat.

“What’s it doing there?” asked Frank, looking up from the microscope.

“Sort of grunting,” said Mira. “It grunted at me, like it was trying to talk.”

“Oh—ohhh!” shouted Piper from near the fume hood. “I think I know what that’s about. Hang on.” Piper peeled off her gloves and tossed them in the trash, then pushed up her safety goggles and headed out to the lobby. Mira and Frank followed her.

Piper smiled when she saw the doll, dressed like a bimbo rather than an employee. That was good; it wasn’t a real employee anymore.

“Adria! You’re coming along very nicely,” said the shorter Indian woman. “I like your outfit. I’m so glad you came here. Let’s see what’s going on with you.”

The doll said maybe “wbuuuhhh”—it seemed to have trouble articulating itself. No matter, Piper grabbed it by the hand and led it through the doors to the lab area. She cast a glance back, checking out the doll’s stiff gait pattern as it followed her, which was within ideal parameters.

The doll grunted and moved its open lips slightly. It tried to make a facial expression of some sort and raised its arms.

“Here, now we’ve got to get it out of these clothes,” said Piper. “Help me with this, would you?”

Frank and Piper pulled off the doll’s slutty clothing. The doll froze in place as soon as Frank began undressing it, which was a good sign. Frank gave the doll’s ass a ruthless, meaty slap, watching it jiggle.

Piper set the naked, frozen doll on a scale—forty-three pounds, a little on the light side but within acceptable bounds. The important thing was that there was enough heavy fat in the ass and tits to feel nice for the doll’s users. Excess weight could be cut from everywhere else, making the doll’s tissues less dense without changing their appearance, for easier handling and lower upkeep.

Piper took out a big pair of calipers and measured the doll’s tits and nipples with it. Within acceptable bounds. She took a set of measurements of ass and thigh diameter. She was about to move on to measuring sexual responses when she noticed something. The doll had picked up a pen on a nearby table and looked like it was trying to scrawl something directly on the table, no paper being handy.

“No, no, no, that’s for people,” scolded Piper, taking the pen away from the silly doll. The doll moaned in an almost sexual way and reached out weakly for it.

“Oh, your hands aren’t quite done yet, are they?” asked Piper, taking the doll’s hands and inspecting the fingers. The little fingers of each hand were partially fused at the base with the ring fingers. However, the other fingers were barely fused at all yet, explaining how the doll was able to—sort of—use a pen.

“Sometimes there’s trouble with the hands. Let me help you.” Piper picked up a roll of gauze and began wrapping it around the doll’s four fingers on each hand, to bind them together. “Your fingers should fuse nicely in a couple hours, and then we can take off the gauze and you won’t have to worry about pens and things.” Piper stroked the doll’s soft hair gently. “The motor control changes should prevent you from writing or typing anyway.”

“I think she was trying to communicate,” said Mira.

“Of course, of course, sometimes they do that.” Piper waved a hand at Mira, still calming the doll by stroking its hair with the other hand. “Usually not much of a problem.”

Next, Piper used her fingers to test the doll’s sexual reactions. It had a well-developed sexual freeze response—no surprise there. The freeze response could be triggered from sufficient stimulation to the pussy, the breasts, the ass, the anus, or the mouth. Once frozen, it had the appropriate reflexes: lick, suck, thrust out, or hump. The doll’s hands were capable of automatically masturbating a male member, which Piper enlisted Frank’s help to test. Nose-pinch to release the doll from freeze worked fine.

The doll’s latex skin and seam development were almost done. Voice was nearly gone, but it wouldn’t go away entirely because this doll was a special order. Debbie had requested that the doll still be able to grunt crudely when it wanted to communicate. Not that it could communicate; Debbie just wanted to know that it was trying.

Also by Debbie’s request, this doll should be able to blush when embarrassed and show distress on its face, at least when it wasn’t frozen. That meant that the doll had to remain capable of being embarrassed, which was the real challenge for Piper. It meant preserving all sorts of unnecessary brain regions.

Piper thought the doll didn’t look embarrassed enough right now. It was barely even blushing! Certainly, if someone was poking and prodding Piper like this, she’d be mortified out of her mind! The doll definitely needed some formula adjustments to meet Debbie’s request. She’d have to enhance the doll’s emotional responses. Piper did a few calculations, then measured some powders and liquids into a flask. She stirred the mixture and had the doll swallow it. Its eyes looked scared—hey, who wouldn’t be? However, its swallowing reflex worked fine.

Piper moved on to some other work. The doll needed to cook for a few more hours. She let the boys amuse themselves with it.

Adria tottered away from the Research Department, wearing the blow-up doll expression on her face. She was stunned. She had lost so much in the past few hours. She looked down at her fingers, now free of the bandages. But not free of each other. Her fingers were fused together like a cheap plastic action figure. Her thumbs were still separate but her dexterity was gone; she couldn’t grasp a pen. Piper had tested that before letting her go. “Come on, Adria, what are you trying to tell us? Just write it down!” Piper had mocked her, and Adria had tried, really tried to hold the pen. She let out a frustrated groan. That was the only kind of dumb animal noise she could make now! Stop, it shouldn’t turn her on! She was getting distracted by a vivid erotic memory of what Frank and Easton had recently done to her with their cocks, remembering the sense of stupid satisfaction that was filling her head at the time.

It was still possible to get out of this. She had to have hope. (She had to get fucked like a proper dolly, like her aching pussy needed.) She had to find a way to communicate, to pay someone to help her. No one at Alsen&Alsen would help her, no one she hadn’t already tried, but maybe one of the city bimbo shops would have the stuff to undo all of this!

Piper had dressed her before releasing her—minus the bra and panties. Her nipples and labia were the same garish neon-pink as her lips, now. Adria knew she looked obscene with her neon-pink headlight situation through the white blouse, and the pornographic size of her tits. However much she wanted to, there was nothing she could do to conceal or cover herself.

Walking stiffly like a wind-up toy, she made it back to her office door unmolested.

Arthur sipped his tea and watched as the new doll tried to open the door to her former office. The doll kept reaching for the doorknob and missing, or limply swiping her hand at the knob without gripping. It moved slowly, jerkily.

The new doll had been explained in the department-wide memo.

Arthur approached. He knew this doll was designed slightly smarter than most, but all dolls were pretty dumb. It wasn’t like this was really still his coworker Adria. The thing was drooling, for heaven’s sake. Arthur made sure to speak slowly and loudly, using simple words.

“That is not your office anymore,” Arthur said slowly. He watched for signs of comprehension on the doll’s gaping face. The doll just kept ineffectually trying to grab the doorknob, as if Arthur hadn’t spoken.

Arthur sighed and opened the door for it. Walking like a stiff robot, the doll hobbled inside. Arthur flicked the light switch on so it could at least see.

Of course, the doll’s purse and other personal effects had been removed already. It had no need for them. The doll slowly turned, gaping dumbly at the bare desk and walls.

It approached the computer, and for a moment Arthur was taken aback. Was there more going on behind those glassy eyes than he thought? The doll reached for the keyboard. Was it really going to... type something?

Arthur soon chuckled at his naivete. The doll was just sort of bumping its hands into the keys, slowly and with pauses in between each motion. One of the eggheads must have programmed the doll to do that as a joke. It wasn’t even looking down at the keys, though it was drooling on them. The screen showed, “lkadskjfadaklasdkdfkl;fq.” A doll, using a computer? What was he thinking?

“Here, I’ll show you to your cubicle,” said Arthur.

“Ah!” gasped the doll when he picked it up. He slung it backwards over his shoulder. “Uh! Ee! Ow!” It kept grunting and gasping (“uh ee ow,” was that supposed to mean something?), and weakly squirming, as Arthur carried the lightweight fuck doll through the office. Arthur gave the ass a hard smack, to freeze the doll and stop the noises.

Arthur set it down on its feet in Adria’s old cubicle. “This is where you belong,” he explained, not unkindly.

Several heart-shaped balloons were tied to the chair with “Welcome Back, Adria!” written on the biggest of them. A gold-on-black placard on the desk said, “Adria Furcotte,” and then below that, her job title, “sexual object.” There was a picture set up on the desk showing Adria’s smiling face from when she used to be a person.

The doll gaped stupidly. It was red in the face, which Arthur thought was kind of cute.

A few sex toys lay on the table. Bottles of doll nutrients—to be administered once a week—were lined up on the far edge. A sign reminded people that keeping the doll clean after each use was their responsibility.

There was a pink fuzzy collar attached to the desk by a thin chain. Arthur buckled the collar around the doll’s neck. The doll ineffectually pawed at the collar, like it was trying to figure it out.

Arthur decided to do the doll a favor. Besides, he was already kind of hard. He spent a minute feeling up the doll’s body, making it groan. With a little effort he bent it over the table, overcoming the stiffness of the doll’s hip joints.

He bunched Adria’s slutty skirt up past her hips to reveal her slick, neon-pink genitals. He cupped their wet, blazing heat with his fingers, easily sliding a couple fingers inside and pumping them in and out a little. The doll gasped and panted audibly. It was certainly ready for him.

Without further ado he dropped his pants and stuck his cock in. Each thrust forced out feminine grunts and gasps from the doll’s throat, and the occasional more drawn-out moan.

Arthur made sure to squirt inside Adria, for cleanliness. The doll was designed to absorb fluids, which further reduced its nutrient requirements. Then he mopped up the exterior with the provided sanitary wipes.

It wasn’t until the end of the day that Debbie got her turn to fuck the new office toy. Unlike Arthur and most of the marketing department, Debbie knew it was really Adria, mentally. Piper had assured her she’d gone the extra mile to preserve Adria’s mind. So it was with some satisfaction that Debbie watched her one-time boss weakly, clumsily pawing at her chain and collar. Adria was currently topless, her gray skirt rumpled from the day’s activities, thigh-high white stockings still skin-huggingly tight.

“You aren’t trying to get free, are you, bitch?” Debbie said in a low voice. Adria turned to her, and Debbie grinned to see the dismay on Adria’s open-mouthed face. The fuck doll grunted.

“This is what you were always meant to be,” said Debbie, stroking Adria’s hair. Adria groaned in response and seemed to slightly wobble her head, drool rolling down her chin. Debbie cradled the back of Adria’s head and brought it down to rest on Debbie’s chest. She embraced her former coworker, running her fingers across Adria’s naked back. After a few seconds Debbie felt the doll freeze fully from the sexual contact. Debbie unzipped Adria’s skirt and pulled it off, then took her time feeling up Adria’s frozen body.

When she was done groping and touching Adria’s defenseless body, Debbie unzipped her own skirt and sat in the chair, which usefully reclined. She posed Adria on her knees so her fat tits dangled between Debbie’s legs and her mouth was on Debbie’s pussy. Debbie gripped Adria’s hair firmly with both hands and Adria’s tongue did what it was programmed to do. Debbie enjoyed the fact that Adria was totally conscious, totally trying to resist and totally helpless.

She pulled up Adria’s head by the hair to get a clear look at the red humiliation across the girl’s cheeks. “There’s my shame slut,” murmured Debbie, and the blushing doll stared wide-eyed back at her.

If Piper had done her job right, Debbie would see that every time. No matter how many times Adria’s coworkers used her, she would always remain just as freshly embarrassed as she was now. Debbie smiled.

Debbie pushed the doll’s head back down and let Adria’s helpless, drug-programmed body finish bringing Debbie to orgasm. The tongue was enhanced compared to a real person’s tongue: stronger, faster, longer, wider. Specialized for its only purpose.

“See you tomorrow,” Debbie murmured cruelly, giving Adria’s ass a smack before she left.

Adria was sitting at a desk. She had the feeling she’d been sitting there for some time, but it felt like she just woke up, or something. There were several things on the desk but closest to her was a ... dildo. She blinked—failed to blink. Her eyelids only twitched, but remained open. What?

She raised a hand to her face to rub at her eyes and stopped short. “Guh!” she grunted in surprise, when she saw what her hand looked like. It looked like smooth plastic, lacking wrinkles or creases. She tried to spread her fingers and got another shock when she couldn’t separate them! Her four fingers were somehow fused to each other like a mitten, only the thumb free. What the fuck was happening? Was this a nightmare? Adrenaline pumping, Adria clumsily got to her feet. It felt like she was in high heels? And she couldn’t close her open mouth!

She looked down. “Unggh!” she grunted in the back of her throat. Her tits were bare. Her tits were huge. Her tits were hanging out. They couldn’t be real. She pawed them with her mitts and grunted again. They sure felt real. Holy shit, they were real. What was happening to her?

It was about that time she noticed how horny she was. The arousal had been there all along, an itch she’d been distracted from, but there it was.

“I’ve been sexually modified,” Adria realized, her heart pounding. Aloud, she groaned inarticulately. Shit, she was horny. Her mind flashed with an image of being bent over, rough hands forcing her legs apart, exposing her wet, hot, vulnerable snatch to be penetrated and pounded. She could feel it as if it were real. The fantasy felt so good, so right, she wanted to lose herself in it. Just drift off in a thoughtless wet daydream until someone came to play with her.

But Adria tore herself away from it. She made herself focus. Someone had sexually modified against her will. She had to cover herself, get away from wherever this was, and find some help. Briefly her mind went to the sexually modified whores on Chestnut St.

There was a blue stretchy top on the desk in front of her, behind the dildo. Adria reached for it, weakly grasped it with her mitten-hands. She lifted it, intending to pull it over her head, when she noticed the chain. Around her neck. She was chained to the desk. She grunted in distress.

Oh—the chain just clipped to the desk with a carabiner. That, at least, was a problem she could solve. Adria reached for the clip and... and somehow missed. She grunted. She tried again. She bumped the clip with her knuckles. She tried again, furrowing her brow. She brushed the clip with a limp thumb.

She was getting incredibly frustrated. Her hands wouldn’t quite move the way she wanted them to! They’d be frozen in molasses, difficult to move them at all, and then all of a sudden they’d clumsily jerk. She groaned and drooled. She had to keep trying.

It dawned on her how much the desk resembled the ones from her work. How much the... cubicle walls... resembled her cubicle at work. Before she’d been promoted. There was a placard on the desk. “Adria Furcotte / sexual object.” As if “sexual object” was her job title. What kind of sick joke was that.

What the fuck, was she actually at work? She tried to think back but drew a complete blank. She left the chain clip alone and turned around to face the door.

A woman, carrying a binder, walked past the open doorway without sparing Adria a glance. Adria tried to call out, but only an inarticulate groan escaped her lips.

The woman stopped and looked back at Adria, making her acutely self-conscious of her exposed tits. Was that Jane from accounting? Jane gave half-naked Adria an embarrassing once-over, making Adria’s cheeks burn, and then Jane just shook her head and continued on her way.

She was actually at work. She couldn’t believe it. What the fuck had gone wrong. Adria’s ears were burning too now. She was a marketing manager! She wasn’t a... “sexual object.”

She realized that in all this time she hadn’t once blinked her eyes or closed her open mouth.

“Hello?” Adria tried to call out—but only groaned, low and sexual. There was drool on her chin. Fuck, she was horny.

Returning her attention to the desk, Adria spotted the bottle marked “doll nutrients.” And then something clicked.

She was a doll. They’d made her into a doll, somehow, for some reason. A tide of approving pleasure began to rise in her mind at the thought. Was this a punishment for something she’d done? Making her into a helpless big-titted fuck toy, only good for men to stick their cocks in. If it was a punishment was it temporary? It had to be temporary, right? The tide of pleasure was filling her head. She didn’t want it to be temporary. It was perverse but something about the idea of being a sex doll without any autonomy felt so good, so right. She was dripping wet and she was wearing a tight skirt and she imagined what her dolly ass would look like from behind. Her breathing quickened.

She fiddled idly, in clumsy futility, with the carabiner. Of course she couldn’t unhook the chain. She couldn’t get free. She couldn’t do anything for herself. They’d made her that way and it felt so good to be so helpless. She was trapped here, a stress-relief resource for her coworkers.

And then she gasped because someone grabbed her thighs from behind and she was being lifted off her feet as if she weighed nothing. They set her on the desk, facing them—Adria briefly registered that it was Ted, an intern she’d barely given a second glance in the past. She couldn’t move at all and she was almost orgasmic just from this. Her cheeks were on fire with the embarrassment. He was only an intern but he could do whatever he wanted with her. Ted unzipped her skirt and pulled it down, and then forced Adria’s legs apart, almost like she’d just fantasized about. Adria groaned when he touched and squeezed her body because there was no other noise she could make, she was mute, they’d made her mute and she couldn’t move and she drooled and her hot pussy dripped and her cheeks burned in shame and the intern pumped his cock into her sloppily.

Adria was sitting at a desk. She had the feeling she’d been sitting there for some time, but it felt like she just woke up, or something. There were several things on the desk but closest to her was a ... dildo. She blinked—failed to blink. What was happening? Where was she?