The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Before I even start this story, I need to point out that Todd Krueller is a chauvinist asshole straight out of the 60’s, or something. His attitudes are practically medieval. So when he started obsessing over catalogues of plastic sex dolls, I wasn’t particularly surprised. I might have yelled at him, or even walked out over the number of times he ignored me to look through all those lists of options. But apart from being a jerk, he was pretty generous and pretty cute too. He had played football in college, a running back who always seemed to have an unexpected burst of speed. He still managed to keep the washboard abs and shoulders broad enough to shield me from the world. You might have guessed he was amazingly fast, but I could feel every other girl’s jealousy when I walked into a room on his arm, so I wouldn’t hold that against him.

I wasn’t that hot. It’s so hard to stick to a sensible diet, even the new celery and cheese plan doesn’t stop me craving a cake every now and then. I can only just fit into a size 12, so I knew I wasn’t going to get a better catch than Todd. So when he looked over his books of sexy plastic women and mumbled excitedly about the optional extras, I took advantage of the quiet moments to catch up on my gossip mags. It kind of worked.

I looked over his shoulder at one of those brochures once. Aside from the giant hooters and even bigger price tag—the cheapest of them was in five figures—the first thing that caught my attention was the title. Gynoid Artificial Love Exoskin. They had to have picked that so it sounds kind of like Gail when you read it out, I guess.

“You going to call her Gail, then?” I asked cheerfully, “When you sell the car and get one of those?”

“Of course not, darling,” he was always charming, maybe a little too smooth, even when he was a horny jerk. “Mine’s going to be called Ali, the only girl I’ll ever want.” It was a horrible, cheesy line, but that’s the closest to romantic you get with Todd. I’ll admit I kind of melted with that, and he put his pictures away long enough to assure me that no doll would compare with me.

It was a while after that I realised what he’d actually meant, though. I finally took notice of the slogans on the books and pamphlets.

With GALE, your lover will always be there for you

The girl who can’t say NO!

Whenever you want her, however you want her

Can’t keep her interested? Get GALE and never worry again

Perfect women of every shape and size

This wasn’t just an overpriced sex doll. They were letting guys pick the perfect hair, eyes, shape,and presumably everything else. They were building a complete plastic replica of your girlfriend. He was dreaming of getting a spare Ali, for any time I couldn’t be there, or when I got mad with him over anything. I couldn’t decide if that was cute, or kind of creepy.

I didn’t think that much about it. It was weird, but it was some early mid-life crisis thing, like Steve Merillio’s yacht, only not quite so expensive. Then Shauna tells me that her sister says one of her friends heard from someone at the office that little slut Daniella is planning to get Todd one of those dolls for Christmas. I couldn’t believe it, but if there’s one thing she’s good at it’s bagging a bargain; or finding a way to bang somebody else’s guy. I hate the bitch. I know she’s had her eye on Todd, but I can’t ban him from seeing her as long as they work together. He’d never be interested, I mean she’s got that kind of cute oriental thing going on but she’ll always be more schoolgirl than supermodel. He wouldn’t go for that, would he?

But he loves the idea of one of those dolls, more than most guys want a nice house or a dream vacation. If she got him one of those he’d do anything for her. I didn’t know if it was true, or how she’d raise that kind of money even if she did wear those horrible low-end brands. But it was a niggling worry at the back of my mind, not something I’d seriously care about.

A few weeks before Christmas, I was at a loss for a gift to buy Todd. I’d begged him to buy me a bag I needed, the new Stavarolli. It took less than two days before he said yes; and I’d be the only girl who could afford to show it off. That cheap tart Britney would be so jealous. Then once he’d agreed, I felt bad because I couldn’t afford to get him anything nearly so extravagant without sacrificing a luxury I really cared about. I’d resorted to crying in the end, though I knew it was letting the side down a little. He’d given me an allowance, so I could buy him something without having to worry about my limited income. But a spa weekend when I was bored and a full manicure, and the most divine pair of Christian shoes to match the retro-glam look of the bag he was getting me hadn’t left much of my Christmas budget. There was even less after buying DVDs for my sisters and the girls from the club. I’d tried looking in all the gift shops I knew, but among those that even had a five dollars or less aisle, there wasn’t anything I could give him shame-free.

Then I saw it: there was one of those shops in the mall. I couldn’t believe it. There was a specialist sex-doll shop in the mall, where the grungy place that sold indie CDs used to be. Of course there weren’t any in the store windows or anything; they had blinds down, and windows that showed only that gaudy GALE logo and some of the tamer slogans. But I couldn’t believe they were selling stuff like that in town. It was like they were a real boutique, not some flaky Internet thing for rich perverts with all the self control of horny schoolboys. I peered through the door as a woman strode out to check on the signs. I wasn’t planning to go and buy him one, or even tell him there was suddenly a shop on our doorstep practically. I just wanted to know if it was really the same firm, the logo I’d seen on so much of his mail, or just a store with a similar design. But when I looked, I saw the price tag on one of the still-covered displays.

More than 99% OFF!

$99.99 this week only!

Buy now, pay January!

Everything Must Go!

That merited a second glance. He’d looked through those brochures so many times, he could probably quote the whole price list from memory. He knew how much they sold for better than I did, although we probably had very different ideas about what they were actually worth. If I bought him one, and he didn’t realise how much it was marked down, he’d be indebted to me for life and he’d never be able to say no to my vacation or makeover plans again.

The inside of the store was like a high-fashion store, an exclusive boutique for the upper class. The attitude of the woman who came out when I rang a dainty little silver bell on the counter was the same.

“Can I help you?” somehow I expected an English accent, but her faint French inflections sold the posh craftsperson image just as well.

“I was thinking about getting one of these for Christmas,” I said, then quickly added “for my boyfriend,” as my gaze caught a small display labelled ‘Sapphos Range’. The doll on that table didn’t seem to be a doll at all, but a folded pile of some fleshtone material. I lifted the edge curiously, and realised I was shaking hands with a soft glove. It stretched like rubber, but the surface was soft and a little rough. It even had fingerprints, whorls and lines to make it look even more like skin.

“Ah yes,” the assistant looked over, “Our new removable skins range, the SAIRA prototypes. You can wear the suit when you wish, your partner gets all the benefits of a loving gynoid, but then you can store it in a closet and be yourself again. The best of both worlds between a GALE and a regular girlfriend.”

“That’s… unique,” I tried to think of any better words as I ran the glove through my hands. I couldn’t understand why anyone would want his girlfriend to dress up as a sex doll. The level of detail they put into these suits was incredible, if the dolls were so realistic they might even be able to pass for human. The palm print was even more detailed than the fingertips, but had an odd, slightly slippery texture when I ran my fingers over it, something like touching glass with oil on.

“Oh, be careful with that one,” the lady called a little too late, “The ‘Sappho’ series is designed for female customers, and so the hands have a small area of surface-catalytic pheromonels inside and out. It can induce quite a hormonal reaction when touched.”

I quickly dropped the glove. I didn’t understand most of those words, but touching hormones sounded too dirty for my taste. Two minutes later, I still didn’t know what the words meant, but I knew what she’d been warning me about. Heat flooded my body, first like an unexpected blush that threatened to make me look like a gorgeous beetroot, and then fire rushing to my crotch. I couldn’t slow my breathing, I couldn’t stop panting. I knew I should hide it, but it didn’t matter. I was so hot, I needed to be naked, I needed to be fucked right then and there. If I could feel so hot, so excited, just from touching that weird stuff for a second, then how helpless would I feel if I’d been dumb enough to put the gloves on? I imagined how it must feel to be fucked while wearing one of those suits, and thinking about it was enough. I’d never cum so hard in my life; I think sooner or later I must have passed out.

“I’m so sorry,” the lady didn’t say anything to make me feel embarrassed, at least, “I think maybe we need to put some kind of a warning on those particular items. I assure you, though, that nothing else on display has pheromonels or other nanotech surfaces on the exterior, though of course I must ask you not to try on any of the display items.” I nodded weakly, accepting a small complimentary glass of wine, and trying to regain my normal composure.

I couldn’t believe the number of options these things came in. The lady explained that they didn’t normally run stores like this, but that the new release of SAIRA meant that the older GALE models would soon be obsolete, and they were having trouble clearing them even at a 95% reduction. At the same time, they didn’t want dedicated fans (by whom I assumed she meant people like Todd, who subscribed to the newsletters and waited up in the middle of the night to get news of a new release) to buy a bargain price model rather than saving up for the new one. So they had decided, just for the two weeks before Christmas, to open a store and sell off their entire GALE stock to people who wouldn’t otherwise have bought one, knocking up to 99.9% of the normal price off.

Well, that was perfect for me. Todd would just think that his dream possession was unavailable, and would be over the moon to receive one on Christmas day. He’d never know about the fire sale. It meant I wouldn’t get the overpowering effects of those nano pheromone things in a doll-suit I could put on, as the sale obviously didn’t cover the new “removable” ranges. But that was something I could live without.

“I take it you understand our processes, and the many unique properties of the GALE systems, if you and your partner have looked into this purchase?” it still amused me how far she would go to avoid actually calling it a sex doll. She didn’t want people buying it without knowing, but this prim and proper Miss in her mid 30s couldn’t bring herself to say exactly what she was warning me about.

“Yeah, I got it,” I grinned and decided just for a moment to see if she was really as unshockable as she made out, “The whole thing kind of turns me on, to be honest.”

“And you will, of course have to sign a waiver; stating that you will not hold the corporation responsible for any harm to yourself, your relationship, or lifestyle as a result of your purchase of the GALE,” she handed a bunch of papers over. I gave them a glance over. Did they think that Todd might like the mannequin-Ali so much that he’d no longer need me? I guess if Mcdonalds need to warn you that coffee is hot, then every company has to cover their ass. I grasped the offered pen, and signed with a delighted flourish. Todd was mine forever now, my ultimate victory.

The pen was a posh fountain pen, dipped in a real inkwell. It felt a little odd in my hand, though. The outside of the barrel was unusually slippery against the side of my thumb, almost like oiled glass. It took just a moment to make the connection, but by then it was too late. My name was signed, my clit begging for attention. My fingers couldn’t hold the poisoned pen any more, and it fell to the ground as the world started to spin around me.

I understand why they did it, but it was a bit of a shock at the time. I had thought that only the second generation product was designed to be worn, but by the time the sedative wore off I was already finding out differently. GALE was made from a compound plastic designed to accurately mimic the texture of human skin, but until they had discovered a way to make it stretch like rubber, it had to be painted and layered directly onto the wearer’s body. They read the details to me, explaining each phase of the process as I lay there first numb and aroused from the pheromonal sedative, and then too horny to think properly. The big problem with the old system was that six layers of skinlike surfaces, two reinforcing laminates, four translucent pigment layers, a printed fingerprint mask, and the underlying pheromonel layer would have to be permanently bonded to the subject’s body in order to maintain their strength. No wonder the new removable suits had been such a step up, no wonder nobody wanted the old system any more.

I did, though. The arousal, the waves of pure pleasure, were beyond belief. Can you imagine how it would feel if every pore on your body was a clit, and you were trapped in a full-body suit that massaged them all with the skill of the most amazing lover, every single time you moved? Imagine how it would feel just to walk down the street in this exoskin. Now imagine how it’s going to feel the first time Todd fucks me.

They tell me my synapses won’t be able to cope. Neural pathways will literally melt under the pressure of sheer joy. The pleasure will be a complete overload, forever welding my mental image of him into the pleasure centre of my brain. I will never, ever be able to disobey my man again, or to think of anything but what I should do to most please him. The thought should terrify me, I know. But the process feels so good. Just one more minute and I’ll change my mind; one more minute of bliss, but I know I’ll be able to say stop before it comes to the sex.

I’m going out of my mind with lust, but I’m not a slave yet. I can still refuse when he opens the giftwrapped box and sees me, wearing only christmas ribbons, snug inside. I can still end this, ask for the suit to be removed before it is too late.

Just as long as I want to.

As long as he says I can.