The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Professional equinization clinics had sprung up all over the country after a court ruling found them not liable in the equinization of millionnaire heiress Patricia Norton.

Advocates of legal equinization were quick to argue that it was a compassionate alternative to ‘hitmen’ and white slavery as a means of eliminating inconvenient young women from existence. As a solution to the problems of witnesses, litigants, competing claimants to inheritances, and other pests, equinization guaranteed that the female subject would become forever removed from human society.

Speech removal was a critical factor in the mental collapse and transformation of the new filly, and had the side benefit of preventing them from formulating any legally recognizable statements. [In the Norton case, the judge openly mocked the pathetic neighing of Ms. Norton on the witness stand.] Thusly, these feminine creatures could not present any petition for human rights, and their welfare would remain comfortably and permanently under the jurisdiction of their legal owners.

In the cases of women who had incurred excessive debt, equinization had an additional attraction—the transformed creatures could bring a respectable price on the auction block, often paying both the debts and the costs of the young women’s body modifications.

Also, equinization appealed to traditionalists who thought it an appropriate response to egregious trends in modern society, particularly the feminist movement. For example, an elderly society matron who’d never attended a university set up a ‘scholarship fund’ for young women. In fact, the ‘scholarship’ was just a pretext to lure the young recruits to locations where they could be seized and turned over to pony handlers. It is said that the aging matron spent her entire fortune on this scheme, and was able to boast that literally hundreds of young women who thought they were headed for the classrooms found themselves instead tied up in stables for the rest of their lives.

Dr. Muriel Gentle was reminded of the millionairess’s ‘scholarship’ scheme one afternoon while she was working on a contract assignment for the Derby Clinic. She was handling 25 girls in a project involving over 300 women altogether.

The women were employed by a Wall Street brokerage firm. After an incident involving an expense account overun, the firm’s CEO enjoined that all female staff members would be turned over for equinization and auctioning. The all-male senior staff made the arrangements, and within the week feminine staffers received a memo directing them to report to a list of clinics for required physical exams.

The ‘exams,’ of course, were nothing more than a means of collecting the young women for shipment to a remote transformation facility, where vocal cord surgery and other modifications would be performed.

Dr. Gentle’s role in the procedure was to induce docile, cooperative attitudes in the patients, in order to minimize security measures while they were still in the city. Though she wasn’t actually an M.D., Gentle was superbly qualified for this task because of her skill as a practitioner of Natural Slavery.

Natural Slavery was a technique whereby a superior woman could exert control over an inferior member of her gender. By touching the subject, and especially by the repeated stroking of the subject’s exposed genitalia and other intimate body parts, the dominating woman could make over an unsuspecting victim into a kind of puppet or obedient pet.

Dr. Gentle’s talent was unusual, because she was herself a feminine, extremely beautiful woman, who did not, herself, possess an aggressive or assertive personality. Nevertheless, when she caressed another woman’s nakedness, that woman would invariably become the Doctor’s obedient slave.

This afternoon, her latest conquest, a beautiful young blonde secretary, lay naked on her back upon a stretcher. Dr. Gentle finished tightening the straps over the girl’s voluptuous body. Then she whispered her final instructions to the patient, as the pretty thing stared up at her, trusting and solicitous. ‘Be a good girl,’ Dr. Gentle advised. ‘Pay attention to what the nice ladies tell you to do.’ She orbitted the girl’s nipples with her fingertip as she carefully programmed her with these instructions.

Dr. Gentle felt a quiet satisfaction as she passified the young woman. The pretty blonde had displayed a rather grating haughtiness at the beginning of their ‘interview.’ The Doctor disapproved of shallow, superfiscial young ladies, and was proud to be doing her part to remove this vain trifle from the ranks of the human race.

The Doctor was just tying a routing tag to the yong lady’s big toe when her assistant, Connie Modern, entered the room. It was Connie’s job to prep the subjects for transport—shaving their heads and scrubbing off their makeup before encasing them in Human Transport Sacks.

‘This one will make a fetching pony, don’t you think?’ asked Dr. Gentle.

‘You’ve got one more sitting in the waiting room,’ said the other woman curtly as she wheeled the subdued blonde from the office.

Dr. Gentle frowned. Ever since Connie was hired, the Doctor has tried to make friends with her, always receiving a cold shoulder. Dr. Gentle couldn’t help it if she was prettier than her compact, no-nonsense co-worker. And it wasn’t her fault that she had a higher-paying job than Connie. The young assistant had an aptitude for Natural Slavery, but her powers couldn’t compare with the Doctor’s.

Actually, she knew Connie was secretly attracted to her. She’d seen the woman’s reflection in the glass casings, studying her when she wasn’t looking. But Dr. Gentle was too shy and timid to ask Connie out on a date. The Doctor reflected, sadly, that she hadn’t been out on a date since college!

With a regretful sigh, Dr. Gentle paced over to the door to retrieve the next subject.

‘Zora Washington?’ she asked. A beautiful black woman stood up in the waiting room and smiled. She towered over the Doctor, her magnificent figure capping six feet.

‘I’m Dr. Gentle—but you can call me Muriel.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Muriel,’ said Zora Washington in a musical, sophisticated voice that Muriel found most pleasing.

Muriel shook hands with the other woman. The palm-to-palm contacty was the beginning of the induction process of Natural Slavery. Muriel could see by looking into Zora’s eyes that the black woman was opening up to suggestibility.

And what beautiful eyes they were! Muriel decided with astonishment that this was one of the most beautiful women she’d ever had the pleasure of meeting!

‘This won’t take very long, dear,’ said Muriel. ‘Would you be so kind as to remove your jacket, blouse, and skirt?’

As the black woman disrobed, Muriel quickly recalculated her estimate of Zora’s beauty. The woman’s body was a showpiece of robust athletic perfection. Her breasts thrust forward proudly, intimidating the fabric of her bra. Muriel was in the presence of a feminine sexuality unlike anything she’d ever dreamed!

On a dangerous whim, Muriel said, ‘Turn around, dear.’ Puzzled, Zora turned and allowed Muriel to examine her behind. The black woman’s rear end was as glorious as the rest of her, her muscular buttocks two ebony globes of perfection revealed by her thong underwear. The Doctor had a fleeting impression of what it would be like to be face-sat by Zora. It made her tremble.

‘I’ll need for you to get up and sit on this cot,’ said Muriel to Zora. ‘Here, let me help you.’ Muriel surreptitiously stroked the beautiful woman’s leg as she ‘helped’ her up. Then she stroked Zora’s arm in an unaffected, friendly gesture. These subtle strokes were bringing the woman under her power—for Muriel, it didn’t take much.

‘Now let me look into your eyes,’ said Muriel, taking Zora’s head in her hands and petting the woman’s cheeks. ‘You have such pretty eyes,’ she said, truthfully. ‘Now let me feel your stomach.’ She ran the palm of her hand up and down Zora’s abdomin. ‘Not an ounce of fat on you! You really must tell me your secret, dear.’ Muriel ran the tips of her fingers down the length of Zora’s beautiful long thighs. ‘Go on,’ Muriel coaxed, ‘tell me your deepest, darkest secret...’

She knew she’d succeeded with Zora when the woman obeyed her request. ‘I’ve been studying...’ said Zora,’...taking night classes... I want to become an investment analyst...’

‘Such a worthy goal,’ commented Muriel. ‘Now remove your bra, please.’ Without hesitation, Zora proceeded to do so. Unrestrained, the sublime jugs loomed outwards from Zora’s chest, swaying seductively before Muriel’s eyes.

Muriel cupped the magnificent tits in her hands, weighing them. She pinched the nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, and gave them a little twist. Looking up into Zora’s face, Muriel could tell that she was now completely under the Doctor’s control.

‘Lay down on the cot, dear. That’s a good girl. Now help me remove the rest of your things...’ Zora arched herself up on the cot, so Muriel could slide the black woman’s cotton thong off her. Zora was now completely nude. Muriel collected the black woman’s clothing and placed it in a disposal receptical.

As she pulled the restraining straps on the cot across Zora’s magnificent figure, Muriel felt a tinge of regret. It seemed unfortunate that this remarkable woman should be transformed into a mere beast of burden. Muriel could imagine herself kneeling in nothing but a loincloth at Zora’s sovereign feet, her ultimate happiness being to perform any act, to do absolutely anything to please her. But it was not to be. Zora’s fate was preordained, and Muriel lacked the boldness to rescue her.

Tenderly, the Doctor leaned over Muriel’s breasts, and took one of the gorgeous nipples into her mouth. She began sucking upon it, and heard Zora giving a long, relaxed sigh. Muriel reached down with her hand between Zora’s legs and affectionately wedged her fingers into the other’s womanhood. She proceeded, inexpertly, to pleasure the magnificent black woman, receiving much pleasure herself in the process.

‘Doctor, we’re running behind schedule,’ said Connie flatly from the door.

Muriel stood up with a start, blushing at her assistant’s interruption. ‘Yes, yes, I think this one’s ready now.’ She nervously wiped the love-moisture from her hand with a moistened towelette, as Connie wheeled the new recruit into the prep room. Then the Doctor collapsed into a chair and had a good long cry.