The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Oooooooooooooo, marshmallows are soooooo soft! How did I get a bowl of them? Squirrel! Yes! No. Saddness. Sorry, I had thought a squirrel had somehow gotten into the Asylum’s courtyard. Oh, wait! Yes! Oh, it’s a rat. No—a mouse. It’s just sooooo cute!

Guard! He’s tall.

Oh wait. There’s the little furry guy. I love how it scurries down near and in and about the shadows close to the walls. Oh, how I wish I could hide like that.

“Don’t go there little guy,” I whispered. Ohhhh! He couldn’t hear me across the courtyard. Why? Silly. It’s too far. Stocking snag. Why couldn’t they sand these wood benches? “Stop little guy,” I murmured. “You don’t want to know what happens behind that green door.” Oh no. He, it, her, whatever went inside! The green door closed. Something flashed in my mind.

It was late night. I remembered two guards cutting off my clothes with shears. A hand covering my mouth let go long enough to make way for a rag doused in something so strong that the fumes crept into my nose and mouth – my lungs – my sinuses. My body was floating and then the zipper started—the endless zipping. It began at my feet and slowly firmly moved up my body. I heard the sound of the zipper teeth meshing together and felt my legs being snugged together. My arms pressed to my sides. My shoulders were held firm. I was being sealed in! The closing zipper tab went to the side of my mouth around my face.

I felt so groggy. I opened my eyes. I could still see. I was behind a mask with holes cut out only for the eyes. I couldn’t open my mouth. I couldn’t turn my head. I couldn’t move my arms or hands. Only my eyes could move. They were surrounded by cutouts in a thick material that probably swathed my whole body.

I just stared at the guard in front of me. What else could I do?

“She has pretty eyes,” he said pinching my face with his horrid hands.

Ooooo, another mouse in the courtyard! How many were wandering the Asylum anyway? Pet? No, that’s probably not a good idea. I’d forget to feed it and the poor thing would starve.

Oh shit, I didn’t have a pet starving back in my padded cell right now did I? Wait. Keep waiting. Wait some more. No, I didn’t think so. I’d feeeeeeeeel soooo guilty otherwise. My heart was pounding. “Breathe. Calm down. Breathe. Clam down.”

Wait. I remembered that night again.

My arms were glued to my sides. I began to think that they had strapped my wrists inside the zipped-up body wrap because even if you were tucked in tight in a blanket you could always move a little. I stopped writhing as they leaned my mummy bound body against a cart. I tilted back. My eyes stung. Eye drops! What? Now they’re rolled me about like cargo. Where? Why? The light fixtures passed overhead. I stopped counting after thirty.

Ohhh! I dropped the bowl of marshmallows. I always said mellows though not mallows. What was a mallow? Or a mellow? Wait. I knew this. They couldn’t take everything away from me. My mind was still mine! I could think this through.

I felt my arms bound in a thick cotton crappy cloth of a cruel straight jacket. I rapidly rotated my shoulders and then this bitch slapped me.

“Don’t struggle against the jacket,” she said. “It’ll hurt our group points.”

Wait, that was months ago. Or was it last week? Yesterday? I looked down at my hands sitting in my lap. I wasn’t in a straightjacket after all. When was I struggling against one?

Then I noticed my clothes. “I’m wearing panties in public,” I said. I saw my white matching lacy bra and my white silky so so so smooth silky-wilky stockings. What the fuck was I doing here? I held up my right leg in the air with a high heel shoe strapped on with little padlocks securing it. A garter belt stretched taunt under my butt to the back of my leg’s stocking top. The thin belts in front went loose. What happened to me? Was I a slut now?

“Good idea showing off your leg to the passing guards,” said the same woman who had slapped me when I had worn a straightjacket. How long ago was that? Shit. She’s wearing the same lingerie I was and she imitated my moves.

What was a ‘marllow’ anyway? No, mallow. I knew this. Oh yeah, I should put my leg back down. My companion idiot followed my lead. Why was I sitting with this idiot? She was soooooo stu-stu-stu-something – stupid! I cringed at her. She stuck her tongue out at me. I wanted it in my mouth so bad.

Where had that thought come from? Did I say it out loud? I hoped not.

“Sure,” she said leaning in fluttering her tongue. Shit. I did say that out loud. Well now I guess I have to. I mean I invited her over to swap spit. Ooo, how derogatory of me to say it that way. I hoped I hadn’t said that out loud too. I leaned in and pinched her tongue with my lips. She put her hands behind my head and pressed our faces together firmly. I hoped that I didn’t drop the marshmallows. Oh wait. I had already. They were everywhere now.

She pulled away and said, “Well you have to move your tongue too. It’s a two way street you know.”

We French kissed again. Her tongue massaged the top of mine. I didn’t like a woman inside my mouth like this. My tongue pushed back.

God, these high heels hurt. And that guard, he wouldn’t stop starring at me – or us, or my boobies.

Were my boobs actually bigger? I began to think they were. I grabbed them and looked sideways at the guard. He liked what he was seeing. I hadn’t intended that, but I continued to feel up my breasts even more and all the while I kept French kissing the idiot as my eyes strained to look sideways at the guard. Was I trying to invite him over?

Cock! I knew that guard. That’s why I’m looking at the shithead. He made me suck him off this morning before recess. Had I just called this recess? What was this? School? Recess! Bullshit. It’s yard time. Prison yard time. I guessed that was a better name. Wait a second, had I just skipped over the memory of sucking a man’s cock that morning? I went back to that thought. It seemed important. Or was it enjoyable? I hoped that was not why I kept picturing it happening again and again and then I realized something. I’ve been doing that every morning for a while now.

The woman’s tongue swiped across the backs of my teeth. Disgusting. I moaned to make her think that I liked it. Why? I shrugged my shoulders and pressed my boobs together with my elbows as I tried to keep my hands away from her, but I also thought maybe I should push her away. My hands hesitated. I had been holding them up and moved them back and forth between our shoulders, but only lightly touching hers. The backs of my hands sometimes pressed against my bare shoulders. Sometimes they moved forward and my fingertips pushed against her bare shoulders. But my hands refused to push her away. They went back to my shoulders again not knowing what to do.

I didn’t like this or her, but I guess I should moan more as if I did like it. I became proud of myself. It took effort to fake enthusiasm like that – wait, I’m not thinking about her. I’m thinking about the enthusiasm I showed sucking the guard’s cock.

I looked up so lovingly at him as I sat there on my ankles and knees. Man, the hard floor hurt.

I needed to remember to grab a pillow from my bunk bed for the next time. Oh shit, did I agree to return at night? I felt a key in my left bra cup. It would get me passed a barred door and over to his on site apartment if he couldn’t take me there himself after yard time.

I hated how he patted me on the head after I blew him. The bastard actually patted me on the head like a doggy dog poochie poodle doodle.

No! Think! But more bimbo thoughts flooded into my head. Yes! Mallow. It’s a flower. Thank god. I actually remembered something. What happened to the mouse and why were there little marshmallows all over my lap? And who’s this woman sucking my face?

The woman pulled away.

Finally.

I wiped my mouth while she said, “So sweet and tasty you are.”

“Thank you,” I said. Come on. I couldn’t be rude. I had to say that.

God they are so soft and squishy – the marshmallows. Not her lips or her tongue. I knew what you were thinking. I just did not know who you – oh shit. Did I have multiple personalities now? Who else was in here? Hello! I swore that I just saw my self giggle and run off into the dark corners of my mind. Come back! I ran after her. I crossed a field and into a garden of thoughts growing untamed in my mind. It turned real. I grew up near this field. It bloomed like this in Spring. I saw myself wave back. “Come back!” I yelled in my head. “I’m trying to help you. We’ve got to work together to figure this out.” She stuck her tongue out at me and for a second looked just like that idiot I French kissed. Then it was me again. I ran or she ran. We both ran. I wanted to tackle her and run my hands over her white lingerie and she and I would be one again. No! I saw her climbed down into a manhole. She closed the lid!

I was in the Asylum courtyard again.

Marshmallows covered my lap. I swiped some off and then saw my cleavage again. I held my two girls and squeezed them and felt their fleshy weight. They were in fact bigger. I felt a key in my bra. Oh yeah. A guard gave me a key. He wanted me to go down a certain restricted hallway tonight to reach his apartment. He lived here at the Asylum. Fucker. He wanted me for sex. Well I’m not – marshmallow!

I picked one up a marshmallow between my gently squeezing legs and pinched it between my fingers. Too sugary though to eat, so why did I have a bowl of them? Where did the bowl go? Oh yes, mallow, Althaea Officinalis, a medicinal plant. I popped the little sugar pillow in my mouth. I chewed once and paused.

Crap. The other bigger guard was coming over.

“Vinnie!” I yelled, because you have to get a person’s attention before you start talking to them and you can’t start talking to them before you get their attention. So shit, how do I call out to them if I haven’t started talking to them? But yet I need to get their attention and yet, I guess I’ll just try to figure this out later, but I’ll just say his name. Wait. What is his name again? “Vinnie!” I think I just yelled that out really loud, which of course means that I should start engaging in a conversation, which also probably doesn’t need to be in the same loud voice that I’m using right now in my head.

Wow, have I been thinking all this in my head while talking to Vinnie at the same time? I don’t even know what I was saying. Wow, I was still talking. Yeah, I’m still talking while I’m still thinking about whether or not I’m talking. How do I do that? At least I’m in a more conversational level of voice, but maybe I should stop thinking all this and focus on what it was that my mouth was rambling off because I have no notion what it was saying.

Maybe I should listen in…. Nope can’t do it.

Wow, I felt my lips move so fast. Red lipstick. I started smacking my lips together several times. This lipstick had a texture to it. Hm, I wondered what they made it out of so that it holds its moist soft texture for so long. Must be liposomes, no wait that’s a molecular bubble delivery mechanism for pharmaceutical drugs. No the newer lipsticks are using a polyethylene solidifier and a silicone oil. Why don’t they just use a natural wax?

“Vinnie!” I yelled again for no reason other than to transition my mind back to something I can’t remember anymore anyhow, because I really have no idea what I was talking about in the first or second or third place. Who’s on third? That is an interesting question for some reason.

I stopped. Peace filled my silent head. I blinked. If I controlled my mind and stayed in the moment, each blink felt like slow motion and relaxed me and could stop the chatter.

Bliiiiiiiiiiiiiiink. Oh yes, silence. Because you know everyone needs a little silence and pure concentration because without it how can you think clearly? You’d be a stupid rambling bimbo idiot frolicking around attracting more stupid frolicking friends – oh wait. Blink. Blink.

“Look Madison,” said Vinnie.

He was so so so so so tall. I could bend my neck so so far back and look right up his nose. He’s gotten a grey hair in there. I think I was starring at it. Yep, I was. He just felt self conscious and rubbed his nose and turned away—the big lug.

“…laboratory equipment is getting in place,” he finished.

And now I was left wondering if I should get him to say it all over again.

“Shit Maddie,” said Vinnie, “you went bimbo while I said all that whole bit. Didn’t you? Don’t come here and ask about status if you’re just going to…”

You know if I could create a key delivery mechanism to the melanocyte stem cells, greying hair could be cured with – god I love my stockings. I went with the white meshy ones today because the smooth classic ones were just too popular now among the hipster bimbos in the northwest courtyard corner. I hated that crowd.

Vinnie waved his hands in front of my face. “Fuck this,” he said. “She’s sun downing again,” he added before walking off.

I looked at the sky. Still sunshine. It’s only mid afternoon. It’s hard getting a world leading lab up and running when you bimboed your own mind to protect it from an employer who got you to make the Bot Dot bimbo formula in the first place.

Ooo, the new Bubbles bimbette is looking at me. Maybe I should go over and playfully smack her for some reason. Woman given the Bubbles Brainwashing always seem to like a good unexpected smack down and then they get all, “yes master, of course I’d love to lick your pussy.”

My eyes narrow as I looked at Bubbles. Yeah, you know I’m look’in at you, bee-otch. I liked vulgarisms like that because they turn me on. I know they’re rude though, so I only thought it. It had been a couple days since I had sex. I’ve been writing notes and making drawings and estimating cellular dissipation models for the simulator – wait I saw that bitch Abigail. This time I mean bitch in a rude way, not playful. My nose cringes at her. Bimbos seem to cringe like cats like to hiss. She likes to be called Abie when she’s all bimbo. She spells it weird with one b no y. Yep, she’s on my list. I wonder why though? Who cares. She’s a slut and I hate her. “Ssssssss, re-ow.” I think I just hissed for real. I was world leading scientist and now I’m kitty girl. Just great.

I looked around. I was alone standing by the green door to security. I always ended up alone around here in the courtyard. I mean it’s like I’m being shunned. I just don’t understand it. I looked down at my flat exposed cute tummy. I could use a corset. It made me feel a tad bit more secure. Like Linus’s blanket. I’m so thin and used to be so fat and short and now with heels and changes to my body I’m so tall now. Not Vinnie tall. Come on!. Six foot five. No way. Man did he have a Red Sea dick that parted my legs. The man hurt to mount.

And there he was getting a kiss from Bubbles number 2001 or however many they made. Probably not that many. What can you do with an airhead like that except send them off to seduce stupid men and catch them in bed, take pictures and video and threaten to send a wife or a boss some snippets of that evening’s sexual romp in Spain which was supposed to be a diplomatic mission instead turned missionary in a different way, if I know what I mean. Self nudge. Self nudge.

Missionary? Why did that name ever start to get used in that context and of course it’s a church term and they never have sex except in ways that – well let’s not go there—grey hair!

If I was working in the industry I could have cured that. Shit. Here I am, a genius dressed in lingerie requesting dumb ox-headed guards for status reports about electron microscopes and loosing my mind to a bimbo side of me I put into place one, two, maybe five years ago.

A memory popped in my head.

I was pushed by a guard into red leather wingback chair. It was in the Asylum library with a grand circular staircase spiraling up to a Tiffany stained glass dome.

“Ooo,” I said looking up and I’ve seen it hundreds of times before. They really knew how to build shit in the 1920’s.

In the left and right inside corners of the chair, tucked into the creases, were two stainless steel loops for patient handcuffs. My hands were free. These were for other bimbos. Stupid idiots. Not the bimbos, I meant the psychiatrist because bimbo assassin training at the Asylum made handcuffs almost useless. I wished I was an assassin.

“Ms. Madison,” said my newly assigned psychiatrist, wearing a fancy suit and smoking a pipe. “I am Mr. Green.”

Yeah, right, I thought. “Oh wow. It was Mr. Green with a pipe in the study. Can I call you Mr. Pistachio instead because I like that shade best? And it’s a nut.” I tried to ramble, but my mind was so calm. Shit. They’re onto me.

“Ms. Madison, we gave you some valium to calm those thoughts of yours. I know how you are using them to hide in your head.”

The bastard flipped through some papers. Why didn’t he call himself Doctor as in Dr. Green? I guess they like generic titles. So Mister it is then.

He added, “I see you’ve been here for one month as a patient and no longer Chief Scientist. Now Mr. Blue and Ms. Red would love to have you back on the staff.”

I blink. My head is quiet. I coughed at his tobacco pipe smoke. “Yep, Mr. Green with the carcinogens in the study. Of course, who am I to say? I put unfolding prions in my brain to change its chemistry and reprogram me to be a bimbo.” Wow, I’m back. Shit. It’s quiet again. Where was my babble? Hello! My bubbly babbles? Where are you?

He put his pipe out. “Let’s begin,” he said. “You’re listed as patient number one, but we know that’s not true.”

He’s testing me. Shit I’m going to say it. “No, I’d be patient 237, but I guess I’m the priority here huh?” I wish I could hold back.

“So you remember your girls?”

Blink. My eyes went blank. Maybe he’ll miss the importance of that. He coughed and moved on. Thank god, because – wait – wait. Damn it, no babble! I normally babble right after I say ‘because.’ It was my entry word into mindlessness.

“I know the Asylum’s staff,” he said, “let’s call them technicians. They are not supposed to have certain relationships with you girls. Of course, you and I both know the advantages of doing so in bimbo training. When you thought they were opposition spies, you devised many of the now standard sexual techniques yourself.”

Blink. I wanted my babble back. If I answered any of his questions, it would start a slippery slope into becoming their puppet. Again, shit.

He coughed. “So let’s begin with a some basics. Are you sexually active?”

I thought, don’t answer him. But what could I do? I resisted, but that made the urge to help stronger. Wait. Don’t resist. I blinked and let my stupid bimbo take over. I opened the front door of my mind and pointed a welcoming hand down the inner most corridors of my soul. I thought, come in my happy bimbo-ness. Come in.

Oh how, the warmth poured inside me. It entered me. Flooded me. It was like being fucked by a guy who hadn’t gotten his rocks off in weeks. It was an endless warm liquid stream filling me where all my talkativeness had gone absent.

“Ms. Madison.”

“What’s the question again?”

“Are you sexually active Ms. Madison?”

“Nope.” Blink. Pause. Ok, let it go mad little Maddie. “Not at all. I just lie there. Totally motionless.” Blink. Blink. Bingo! And he knew it.

His eyes rolled.

I sat all pretty and demur and attentive in his fancy wingback chair. I crossed my stocking covered legs and rested my hands on my knees. I smiled with a blank look. They always believed that for some reason. Oh, how I was having a wonderful orgasm. He never knew it. Blink. Blink. I never thought that bimbos could fap. It was against the rules. But there I was right in front of him. Mmmm, fappiddy fap fap. I broke the rules. More fap. Blink.

“Eeee!” There was a mouse in the courtyard. Shit. Another memory popped into my head.

I was tied down into a large glass coffin or aquarium or death chamber or water chamber, but it was dry. Just water board me now fuckers! Let my bimbo programming erase my mind. I wanted the torture. I wanted how my programming defense mechanism that I designed would initiate the bimbo spy covert safeties and erase everything I knew forever. Do it! Erase me now!

“Madison,” said Jack – a guard, one of Mr. Green’s fucking technicians. “You’re profile says you had a childhood fear of mice.”

Shit. I knew where this was going.

Jack smirked. He was ready to do something to me. It was clear he had prepared.

“You know Maddie, if you torture a bimbo, she’ll erase her mind. Perfect for a captured spy.”

Like duh dude. I’m the Chief Scientist. Check the chart. Or I used to be. Blink.

“But,” he said, “childhood fears are a back door.” He picked up a shoebox sized plastic bin. Lab mice. He poured dozens of the little critters into the glass coffin with me. It doesn’t bother me, but my bimbo side hasn’t reacted yet. It was a childhood fear. I was fine. No, wait.

I begged my mind to feel tortured and erase me. I watched the little animals as they climbed over my body. They tangled in my hair. They pushed over my face. My childhood fear was returning, but it wasn’t torture – it was worse. It was deeper. My speculations of forgotten fears being a back door to a bimbo were all true. Shit. I wasn’t going to be able to fight this. I screamed at the top of my lungs. My heart raced in terror.

Jack nodded happily. He took notes.

I vowed to get him for this. I screamed again. Thank god they didn’t have my bimbo code. I had a secret about that and I prayed it would get me through even this cruelty. My mind was locked. Even I couldn’t get at it.

“Hi Jacky-wacky,” I said so lovingly as I trotted down the hallway. I ran into Jack. Literally. “Duh!” I said pretending to have hit my little head.

He got angry, pushed me off, and walked away. He used to always spank me when he got close, but Ms. Red yelled at him. Mmm, Ms. Hotheaded Executive Red.

I looked down to my hands. I had picked Jack’s pocket and held his cell phone in my hands now. How many times have I done this? I looked at it. I rub its flatty-watty smoothy-woothy glass screen. Now what? It’s hard for a bimbo to conspire against evil, because – what was I thinking? Oh yeah! I have a shiny object. I sat and played with the phone. I even rubbed it between my legs.

Focus Maddie. Focus.

I trotted to the courtyard—like that made sense in some way. Hey, I can’t keep it all in my head.

Oh god I wished I could just kick back and watch re-runs on TV.

I looked over to one of the few inmates I never had sex with. She had become the wallflower of the Asylum. Her name was Blinkie, at least that’s what I called her once and it stuck, and when I said “stuck” I meant it propagated through the whole Asylum overnight. The next day it got to the point that even the guards were calling her “Blinkie.” I hated her for what she used to be.

I wondered if I might have said Blinkie too many times. Maybe I propagated the name myself. I tended to ramble and stay on one topic for far too long. I looked at her and waved. Nothing. I waved again. Nothing. She used to be a lawyer for the Mafia. Unbelievable. I called such patients Inverted Bimbos. She used to be a talkative articulate lawyerly mouthpiece with a gift for glib gab and now, well now, nothing. An Inverted Bimbo for certain, taking on an opposite personality to desperately protect her mind from the treatments – just like me or not.

I stared and leaned forward even though we were on opposite sides of the courtyard. The leaning-in seemed to help me see better. Well maybe not.

What went on in her little eye blinking blinkedly blink head anyway? I hope that doesn’t happen to me. Blink. Blink.

Oh yeah I have a phone.

CHAPTER 4: Alias “Blinkie” (Bimbo Inmate Number 44)

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CHAPTER 5: Jack (Security)

Fucking asshole that Vinnie. I walked away leaving the bastard behind so that I can get back to work.

“Get off Madison,” I yelled and pushed the boobed blonde off me. God she was hot, but too annoying. I loved spanking her, but she was labeled special now for some reason. I watched her ass for a second or two. I imagine my hand on it as I shook my head. Somehow things, bad things, seem to happen to guys around her.

I looked at Vinnie leading the latest Bubbles off the yard. That was my Bubbles for tonight. The tall freak was going to get another blowjob. Shit, she’s the one I gave a key to. I wanted her to visit me. A lot of guards had that key, so I should be OK even if she dropped it.

How the hell does Vinnie get it up so many times during the day?

Ah there’s Susan standing there in white lacy panties and bra and stockings. I can never get jaded. We made her kill her husband and set it up so he was disgraced. Hated programming her to do that. She seemed so sad and vulnerable.

Man, she has a kick ass body. I went over to her planning on taking her to my room. Good, the guards are putting the other bimbos away. This one’s mine. I wondered what she’s was thinking as she stared at that wall like that. Maybe she’s not the best choice. I’m second in command. I could have any of these hot women. Maybe I have low self-esteem. Great. I am in a dominate position in a prison of beautiful bimbo women and I fall for the one resistant patient who probably only wants to kill me if she has any thoughts at all.

“Hi Susan,” I said. I had to talk to her. What was she thinking starring off like that? We made her forget her husband, so that couldn’t be it. Hm, I hoped that we made her forget.

CHAPTER 6: Susan (Committed Inmate Number 45)

I’m not sucking his cock. I pretended to get confused each time his pants opened and I never sucked it. Sure, I have put my hand around his shaft many times before I made the confusion set in. I would say, “Oh my. How big it is.” Of course I said it like a bored waitress serving hamburgers at a truck stop dinner.

Doesn’t he get a hint? I hated him. I didn’t even know why. He made me do something, but what? He made me do it though. Couldn’t be sex. I didn’t care about sex anymore. I mounted his shaft all the time and rode him like a rodeo cowgirl. But I would never blow him—if my memory could be trusted. When I rode him last time, I even tried to mock him by screaming and waving a hand in the air like he was one of those bull machines at a honky-tonk bar.

“Hi Susan,” he said from behind me like he was kind and caring.

The bastard probably liked thinking he was.

I’m just going to stare off into space. He pulled me at the arm. He’s was going to make me sleep with him again. Fine, I’ll put his cock in my mouth. Nothing wrong with that. After all he’s worked hard all day and deserved a woman to care for him. I smiled at him. Somehow I felt that was wrong.

“Hi Jack. Would you like me to service you?”

“Only if you want to,” he said.

What? Like yeah sure. That’s what I want to do. Just rub it in. Taunt me. Yeah taunt me.

“Oh, yes Jack,” I said putting my arm under his and smiling up at him. He was tall. The Bimbo Asylum seemed to have a height requirement for guards. Probably to help establish authority. Some police departments used to have a six-foot two height requirement for just that reason. Then someone sued. Women were saddened.

Damn it. The cravings were coming back. I didn’t want to reward him. The feelings built up. I felt the pressure that I must please him. I had to be loving and caring and if someone ever said ‘puddles in puddles pound pussy’ I’m to lock on target and administer poison or cover the face in a trash bag until there was no movement or if time was lacking, Karate chop the throat then—what was that? A memory flashed, but I couldn’t hold on to it.

I walked with Jack. I knew I killed someone. But who? I knew the Asylum made me do it. But why? Maybe if I killed Jack, I could remember more. I would apply a reconstruction technique. But Jack was just a guard. That wouldn’t be fair.

“Jack!” yelled Vinnie across the courtyard. “Ward Two!”

“Gotta go sweetie,” said Jack running off. The fucker patted me on the butt.

CHAPTER 7: Madison (Special Committed Inmate Number 1)

CHAPTER 6: Bitter Susan (Committed Inmate Number 45)

I looked at the idiotically happy Madison sitting next to me. No one wanted to be near her. She was what we called a Babbling Bimbo, but far more than any other. But was she really as stupid as she wanted people to believe? Holy crap! Was that a cell phone in her hands? The idiot blonde yelled something and stood dropping the phone. She really was too stupid. She had a cell phone and no, no! It tumbled in slow motion into a puddle of mud. The impact was like a sonic boom in my head.

Everything changed. I was sitting in the courtyard. It was foggy. People had been sitting around me including some guards, careless guards like Jack. The group disbanded and there it was. A cell phone sat on the end of the bench. I slid over and sat over it. I shoved it into my panties before my bimbo side took over. So many other gals must have walked right by it, but their brainwashing made it useless to them. Had Madison been one of them? Regardless, at any moment it might become useless to me too, unless I was on mission. When on assignment, I had laser focus. Think top secret mission. Assume that someone gave me my bimbo code, then my orders and I headed off. I felt the cell phone between my legs as I clicked and clacked away from the bench. Think mission, I kept repeating to hold back the bimbo in me.

I ran towards my padded room. No wait, there was the long hallway to the laundry. I could find peace there and hopefully a signal if I didn’t go in too far inside.

I looked right at the phone. I’m held it – an actual phone! It has the little physical keyboard. My hands shook. I typed. I entered my home number. Yes! I remembered it. It rang.

“Bobby! It’s me Susan. You gotta help me.”

“Susan?” says a woman’s voice. “Susan. Where are you?”

“I don’t know.” But before I can say more the woman starts yelling.

“You killed our son and you dare to call here for help. You just wait right where you are young lady. The cops will come for you.”

“What the?” yells Vinnie grabbing the phone from me.

I looked down again at the phone in the muck. The one Madison just dropped into the puddle. The electronics filled with water. In a puddle. Poodle. Puddle. Poodle. Puddle. Pounding crashing into the mud. Jack my trainer—the one who programmed me was walking over. He’s taking me to his onsite apartment in the old power building. He seemed proud about the corner unit away from the staff and inmates. We could make as much noise as we wanted. And we did.

I wanted my mind to melt away. I didn’t want to be me anymore. Role play in Jack’s apartment helped in that way.

Did I kill my husband? Did Jack order me to? Train me?

I should kill Jack too. If I could just get him to say the phrase by accident. The magic words. No, wait, I need someone else to say it because the target can’t say it and I can’t kill without hearing it. And I’m here because I won’t let them change the code. I have become a resistant bimbo. One out of five like the dentist commercial. The guards call us Sugars as in no sugarless gum, the one out of five. I looked back at the mud puddle the phone had slapped into.

It was night. I was at home. The cellphone rang. I woke-up and answered it. The voice said something about “pussy.” I said “perv!” My husband asked, “Who’s calling this time of night.”

My mind flipped back. I walked upstairs with Jack now.

Threesome! Shit. That’s what I needed. A threesome. There were enough bimbos around in the courtyard, but I’m already pulling Jack’s paints down. We’re already in his corner apartment. How come I never think threesome while out in the courtyard? This is the hundredth time I’ve pushed him back on to his bed and straddled him. Some of those times thought, threesome. Crap. I remembered a wet poodle doll. That day I thought threesome.

“Oh Jack, it’s so sooooo big,” I said holding his cock. “I couldn’t possibly fit this inside me. Please, don’t make me. Should I get more lube?”

I wished I could tell Jack he wasn’t nearly as big as Vinnie.

“I got it,” he said reaching over to a nightstand.

What kind of dominating cowardly guard was he? Here I am a bimbo servant sex toy and he’s not ordering me about. Hello, I silently think. I would have gotten the tube you stupid fuck. I mean, now I’ve got to get you excited again because I can tell it went down a bit. I wondered, are you nervous Jack? How cute. Maybe he was. Shit, the bimbo side was coming back. Jack was so, so hot and sexy. Plus we seemed to be exclusive. He liked me and no one else. I was such a lucky girl. I felt that I should reward him. God, I wanted to throw up from that last thought.

“Let me. Order me,” I said, desperate to train him to be my perfect master. I pulled my pantie’s gusset to the side so he could just thrust into me. I didn’t want to mess with getting them off. I just wanted him. Oh. I slowly pushed his tip inside me. Teased his tip. Pulled away. Eased the tip in. No! I wanted faster this time. I pushed down making him enter sure and steady.

Gyrating my hips, I looked down at him and popped my bra letting my girls out to play. I ran my hands over them. I pinched my tits. It doesn’t hurt if you do it yourself. I made it hurt though. He liked the show while unknown to him, a whole list of killing options popped into my head. A snapped neck was a good option. The Asylum trained me.

I think I was married. Maybe he was out there looking for me. My head pounded. I kept thinking about the mud and the puddle and the phone.

“Mmm!” screamed my husband as I held a plastic bag over his head. My orders came from the top and he had to die. “Poodles in puddles pound pussy,” I said. “I’m sorry Darling. I’m just following orders my Sweetie. I’ll make breakfast tomorrow for us to make up for it. OK?” I pulled the bag tight across his face.

There was a knock at the door. I stopped sexing Jack up. He looked angry. He pushed me off. I almost fell off the bed on to the floor—the fucking bastard—handsome, stud monster he was. I looked at him so lovingly as he pulled his pants on and struggle to zip up passed his enlarged member. A fast zip could have hurt. Don’t hurt it, I thought as I reached out to help. He turned away. A second later, he was in the next room answering the door.

I realized that I was thinking something a second ago. What was it?

I heard one of the Bubbles girls in training at Jack’s door, not the new inmate. Another one. She kept babbling about a key and how it didn’t fit his lock.

My mind exploded. Threesome! Awesome threesome! But why was I excited about this idea? It repulsed me. I yelled it in my mind again, “threesome!”

Bubbles was kissing my guy. My guy! Jealousy filled my mind and honestly, I hated Jack, so now the anger doubled. It made no sense. The anger led back to memories.

“Guess what girls,” he said. “We’re going to have a threesome tonight. Susan is always suggesting it.”

Really? I didn’t remember doing so. And why would I? I’m the jealous type.

My hands passed over my husband’s dead body. I don’t know how he died, but I knew I had to get a number. The Asylum wanted one thing. I pulled a pen from my husband’s bedside table and aimed it at the wall. A laser image of a bank statement showed in red on the wall. How did he go so much money? How many commas were there? I memorized the number. I felt anger. I would never tell this number. It would be mine forever. I pulled a special bottle of acid from my purse and dropped the pen inside. I was supposed to report back, but fuck them. My mind began to feel faint. A bimbo safety was kicking in. It was one that I didn’t know about. I fell to my knees, but I knew the number they wanted. I tangled my thoughts around it and buried myself in silence.

Before I knew it, I was humping Jack again. Bubbles was kissing him. I moved faster to get him to climax. Jealousy increased. Bubbles, that bitch. She was going to be the face he’d remember tonight even though I did all the work. I wanted Jack to see my face – wait a second, I thought.

“Bubbles,” I said.

“Mmm,” she said pulling away from my delicious Jack. She licked her lips at me. Clearly she was bi. The Asylum tried to make us all that way.

“Let’s blow his mind,” I said. Something had gotten into me. I felt warm. I felt like I had a purpose, a mission. It was like rolling in mud. A puddle splashed with a cell phone. Huh?

“Yeah babies,” Jack said smiling. “Let’ do it.”

“Repeat after me,” I said to Bubbles. “Poodles in puddles pound pussy.”

“Ooo, sounds sexy,” Bubbles said sitting up and barking like dog.

Shit. What a fuck-up bimbo. Just say it you stupid worthless pantied twat idiot.

“Wait a second,” said Jack. “What did you say?”

Bubbles looked at him, “Silly, she said…”

“Noooooooo!” screamed Jack, but I heard what she said anyway.

My eyes glazed over for a second. I said, “I have received your command and recognize my bimbo code designation.” I don’t know why I said it. In the past I normally said it only in my head. It was certainly a mouth full. Maybe I wanted Jack to hear it. Fear it. I smiled down at Jack not knowing why. I was suddenly happy. My heart rate increased.

His dick was still hard and inside me. His heart rate increased too. His eyes were locked wide open looking right back at me.

It all turned me on. It was so hot and sexy.

While I straddled his hips, holding him down, he stretched a hand out to make a grab at something from his nightstand. Whatever it was, it was missing.

That turned me on too. Hm, come to think of it, I think we left his gun belt on the living room floor. Normally it hung by the nightstand. Did he want something from it? I felt really turned on now.

Bubbles sat there touching herself. She moaned and whimpered feeling lonely.

Jack looked right at me in terror.

But why?