Creating perfect girls

[SVerberghe]

A story about a guy that invented a way to create perfect girls.

Spoiler alert: This story includes a chase through the mud, knock out darts, chloroform and a strong mind control / power dynamic ellement.

Enjoy, and please let me know what you think.

The salesman

He looked at the chart for #5. Even tough he invented his technology over a year ago, there were still some aspects of the process he didn’t quite understand. Why was the pink line so unstable for example. Pink line. He checked with the other charts. Pink was the level of pentomithalax needed. So it was about obedience. He walked to the fridge. Why, o why? What was so different about this girl? He got some milk and cereal. First breakfast, then he would put her through some more tests and training sessions. No matter how long it took, he would teach her to be just as obedient as the others and then he would make a fortune selling the perfect little slave he’d created.

She sat on the cold linoleum. With the tips of her fingers she pressed against her forehead. A terrible headache just couldn’t be massaged away. Her back leaned against a white wall. Her knees high against her chest. She couldn’t remember for how long she had been here, or how she got here in the first place.

She was locked in a small room with a bunk bed, even though she was totally alone. There was a tiny window that couldn’t open. Sometimes she would stand in front of it and look at the clouds and the forest in the distance. If she ever managed to escape she would run into that forest, she’d decided long ago.

She strolled back and forth through the little room. With her hands she smoothed her clothes. They weren’t even her clothes. She wore a white summers dress and a lace thong. At home she would never ever were a thong. She just didn’t like the feel of the tiny string in between her buttocks. Now she had to. It was either wearing this or being completely nude.

She paced from the bed to the window (it was a gray and rainy day) and back to the bed again. She sank into the bottom bed and pulled the blankets up to her chin. She stared at the top bunk. She closed her eyes for a while, but the headache only increased so she opened them again. For the umpteenth time she tried to recall what she could remember.

She was heading out for her piano lesson. She clearly remembered getting into her car and driving off. Did she ever arrive at her lesson? Did she leave the lesson afterwards? Was the piano teacher the bad guy, or was it a stranger somewhere along the road?

She sighed. She couldn’t figure it out. She rolled over and pressed her face into the pillow. The sheets were fresh and smelled like lavender. The sheets were always fresh and yet she couldn’t recall anyone coming into her room and cleaning them.

What could she recall from the time she was here? Her sense of time was completely disrupted, she could’ve been here for a week or for a few months now. She wasn’t ever hungry, yet she couldn’t remember eating. Maybe everything was a dream. She closed her eyes and tried to wake up.

Her head was pounding. The pain filled up her brain, from her eyes till her neck. She remembered the headaches, she always had a headache when she woke up.

A high whistle sounded through the room. She jumped onto the bed and hid beneath the blankets. Her eyes shut close. The whistle always scared her and for some reason or another she reacted by hiding like a child.

A strange smell found its way through her blankets. Sharp. Chemical. She coughed. Only when the whistle ended she dared to open her eyes again. She folded the blankets backwards. Her eyelids and her limbs reacted only slowly to what she wanted, everything seemed so heavy all of a sudden. The strong synthetic fumes still surrounded her. She just laid there dreamy and in a daze. Was it her or did the lights get brighter?

A dark shadow bend over her. He dribbled a colorless liquid next to her on her pillow. She tried to kick him, but there was barely any strength left in her legs. With one hand he grabbed her knee and pressed it into the mattress. She couldn’t escape him. A sting in her inner thigh. She was already too woozy to be able to do anything about it.

He saw her eyes glazing over. She looked up at him, confused. She fought against the sleep. Desperately blinking. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for something she might be able to understand. Her eyes fluttering. Only little slitters of white now. She was far away in dreamland long before he’d emptied the entire syringe. A smile crept over his face. The way she’d reacted to the whistle was perfect. See, she would be almost ready. Just one, maybe two more training sessions and she could be sold.

Her arm dangled next to the bed, her fingers touched the linoleum. She rolled over. That headache, that damned head ache was there again. She sighed an pressed herself up out of the bed. She remembered a smell, a strange synthetic smell and a whistle, was there a whistle? What was the meaning of all those memories? Where was she? Who was she? It was like her mind was completely blank.

She looked at her clothes. A white dress and a pink thong. She opened her legs and studied the undergarment, her fingers stroked the little diamonds. A pink thong? Wasn’t she wearing a black thong earlier?

If only she had some paper or something, a way to make notes, or at least a way to count the days.

She noticed her legs were shaved, recently. Just above her ankle there was a little shaving wound. And her hair was washed. Her blond curls hung damp over her shoulders, she pulled a lock of hair against her nose. Her curls smelled like peaches. Wait a minute. Blond? Curls? Since when? Still she couldn’t remember what color and type of hair she was supposed to have.

Her nipples protruded through the thin white fabric of her dress. Something was different about her nipples as well. She looked down and studied them. She felt her nipple with her thumb. It was more sensitive. In between her legs a wave of ecstasy started. It crashed through her body and back to her nipple and thumb. She fell backwards back into the mattress.

Why would she ever want to do anything else? Life was perfect now. It hadn’t been perfect earlier, but now it was. She vaguely remembered how she would dislike men suckling on her nipples. It would hurt and she’d always feel uncomfortable. She wasn’t their mother, right? Now she couldn’t think of anything more arousing than a mouth against her skin, a smooth teasing tongue around her areola. She almost came.

‘Knock it off,’ a voice sounded.

She sat up to quickly and her head banged against the top bunk. Damn it. She looked around, but she was still completely alone. Then she studied the walls and the corners, maybe there was a speaker somewhere and a camera, maybe someone had been spying on her. The longer she kept on searching for hidden electronics, the more she was convinced the voice was a product of her own mind.

Outside the sky started to darken. The sounds surrounding her changed, as if the world became quiet. Was she the only one, or would there be more women like her?

She held her breath and listened quietly. She approached the door and listened to the sounds on the other side. Her ear touching the wood. She heard some rubble but she couldn’t tell what it was. Maybe she was alone after all.

Then she heard some soft voices. She listened even more carefully without making any sound of her own.

‘Well done, sweety, just surrender now.’ It was a male voice. It also said: ‘Kneel before your Master,’ and: ‘Open up wide. Good Girl. Yeah, that’s right, that’s a good girl.’

His hand entangled in the swirly red locks of Slave #3. She looked up to him willingly and somewhat drowsy. She had been ready for months, yet he couldn’t sell her. Not because of a lack of buyers. One guy even offered half a million. He just wasn’t ready to let her go yet.

Anyway, what was the purpose of it all if he couldn’t keep a few slaves for himself. Wasn’t that how the whole thing started in the first place. Selling them was just a way to get more money for medication and equipment needed.

The sounds in the hallway turned her on. Just the thought of a man talking down to her like that made her tingle all over. She was ashamed of herself and of the things she was feeling, but she couldn’t control it. A powerful dominant telling her exactly what to do, that would make her live so much easier. She had fantasized about someone taking control over her for such a long time, but somehow the guys she end up with were all wimps. Her hand slid into the pink thong and she started fumbling herself. Her breathing became shallow and she started panting. Her whole body leaning against the door, her ear pressed into the door hoping to hear more of that voice. It was gone. She was surrounded by silence once again.

‘Stop it. Go to bed.’ Once again that strict voice echoed in her room. She panicked and lost her balance. Her elbow hit the handle and the door swung open. What the heck? The door wasn’t locked? Flabbergasted she looked into the empty hallway. She was always convinced that she was locked in. Had she ever checked the door? She must have, right? She didn’t remember, but still. Her kidnappers must have made a mistake or something. She removed her hand from her panties.

‘Close the door and go lie down in your bed.’ See, the voice sounded anxious, they'd made a mistake. The whistle sounded. Her muscles stiffened in fear. Still she suppressed the desire to jump into bed and hide. She took one deep breath and started running.

Was this because of the pink line? He’d never before seen one of his subjects masturbate. And then disobeying him and running of like that. He grabbed some darts filled with pentomithalax and powerful paralyzing agent. Then he tied his shoes.

She was panting. Her heart beating furiously. Through a dark hallway. Her bare feet on cold brown tiles. Door after door, it all looked alike. She turned corner and found a staircase. She jumped down, taking multiple steps at the same time. She tipped over a coat rack. A door with the key inside the lock. She turned the key and she was outside.

The freezing night caressed her skin, mud slid through her toes and her bare feet sunk deep into the sludge. She ran away from the building. Forest all around her. She ran and ran. The drizzle slowly drenched her summers dress. The fabric became transparent and clung to her skin but she wasn’t cold at all. She slipped and fell into the mud. As quickly as she could she picked herself up again and started running. Only when she felt sheltered by all the trees surrounding her, she stopped for a moment and allowed herself to catch breath.

‘Now what?’ she thought. She shook her head wildly. That was a question for later, right now she needed to get as far away from that stupid farm as possible.

In the distance she heard the same whistle again. What was the deal with that whistle anyway? She ran in an opposite direction. Again, a similar sound. This time next to her ear, followed by a sting in her arm.

She looked. Her muddy skin was pierced with a tiny silver cylinder with a yellow plume on top.

It made her nauseous. A strange dizzying nausea which started in her arm and slowly crept up to her chest and throat. She bit her lip and pulled the dart out of her arm. Then she started running again. After a few paces she wavered. Her heart was pounding like crazy, pumping her blood and whatever had been in that dart trough her body. Okay, so if running wasn’t an option, she would walk. Come on. Hang in there. Just one foot before the other, how hard could that be? Her legs quivered and she grabbed around for balance, she fell down anyway. All her strength seemed to drain from her limbs. She pulled herself forward through the mud and sludge. Crawling. Dragging her limp body with her hands. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t move anymore. Panting she just laid down her head and waited.

His heart was pounding as well. She had gotten so much further than she should’ve gotten. What went wrong? The whistle worked fine earlier today, so why didn’t it anymore. Damn that unstable pink line.

Slave #3 emerged from the bushes. ‘Anything else, Master?’ she asked.

See, #3 didn’t run away. He ordered her to return to the farm. Then he looked down at #5 and her almost paralyzed body trying to get away from him, all in vain. Her fingers just kneading the mud under her hand.

Something pressed into her upper arm and in her side. She tried to look, but even the muscles in her neck were too pulpy to raise her head. It was a shoe, the front of a shoe. Hands on her body. Someone turned her over. Lying on her back she could see the someone.

It was a man, wearing a ski mask. He was carrying a large shotgun and he stood next to her, looking down on her. She could only see his eyes. Gray. Friendly. Familiar somehow. The demeaning arrogant look in his eyes turned her on for some reason.

He pointed the gun in her face. She felt the mud against her butt and shoulders. She could see right into the barrel. A dark tunnel of which there was no return. She would seize to exist tonight. She knew. She would hear that scary whistle sound one more time and after that only nothingness. She wanted to curl up under a blanket and hide. Just like before.

With the barrel he raised her skirt. He pulled her dress up, past her thong and he exposed her muddy breasts.

‘Look at yourself, Slave #5. You are lying on the ground. Covered in mud and rain. Completely powerless. Unable to move. Unable to fight back. Was it all worth it?’

With his shoe he moved her legs a little wider.

‘ Come on, was it worth it?’

‘No Master,’ she heard herself say. She had no idea why he would call her Slave #5 or why she would call him master, but somehow it felt right. She didn’t have to ask who she was, where she was, how she got here. She just knew. She was Slave #5 and he was her Master.

‘Was it a good idea to be disobedient?’

‘No Master.’

‘No, it wasn’t, wasn’t it. It wasn’t at all.’ He put his shotgun against a tree. From a pocket in his jeans he removed a brown bottle and a white cloth. He wasn’t in a hurry and calmly he folded a neat square and drizzled it with the liquid from the little brown bottle.

‘And tell me, it wasn’t a good idea because...?’ He twisted the lit back on the bottle. ‘Well #5, because what happens to disobedient slaves?’

‘They need to be punished and trained even harder,’ she said.

‘Tell me, how should good obedient girls behave themselves?’

She started to chant all the rules. She had no idea how she knew, but with every sentence she said she felt more and more true to herself, every word uttered made her realize who she was. She was Slave #5. She was here to serve her Master. Nothing else mattered anymore.

The man knelt next to her. He waved the cloth in front of her face without touching her. She could smell the synthetic fumes. She knew that smell. It was an overly familiar smell. Unable to move, she couldn’t even turn her head the other way, she was forced to inhale more and more of the fumes. The only thing she could try was holding her breath.

‘Keep reciting the rules,’ he ordered.

‘Rule seven, a Slave will do immediately what her Master asks her, without hesitation, without a struggle. Rule eight...’

She felt dizzy. The fumes took a strong hold of her mind. The world wavering. Her thoughts started to slur as well as her speech: ‘Rullll eieieieie...’ Her mind fuzzy and foggy.

‘Good girl, now take a deep breath,’ a voice whispered in her ear. A voice that must be obeyed. She inhaled. The fumes felt like sand paper in her throat. O damn it, she forgot about the rag. Her thoughts subsided, the reality slowly slipped away from her. She relaxed more and more. Just. Obey. Just. Breath. She felt so sleepy. It was almost impossible to stay awake. Her eyes blinking heavily.

‘Rullllle....’

‘Hush now. Go to sleep,’ the voice said.

It felt like she had lied there waiting for his permission all along. As soon as he said the word, sleep, she felt her eyes closing and her mind and body surrendering to him, surrendering to the fatigue and to the fumes.

For a brief moment she felt the cloth, cold and wet against her face and after that her mind went completely blank.

With one hand he pressed the chloroform against her nose and mouth, making sure she’d inhale even more, so she’d be totally subdued on the way back to the farm. His other hand examined her body. Her breasts, her thong, her thighs. There was mud and sand everywhere. Stupid brat, now he would have to bathe her all over again. He checked whether she was completely under and then he picked her up from the ground. He carried her back to the farm. Her head dangled backwards and bounced of his elbow with every step, her arm hang down, as loose and limp as the rest of her body.

There was warmth. All around her. She was so delightfully warm and drowsy. Somewhere in the background she heard some music, maybe a piano concerto? A calming and soothing voice kept talking to her. She felt more and more at ease. Smooth terry stroke her limbs. Someone was rubbing her dry, her feet, her legs, her breasts, her face, her hair. Once in a while she sank back into hazed dreams, and now and again she would regain some consciousness and feel all warm and perfect and blessed.

Someone caressed her ankles and wrists. It was so pleasurable. She wanted it to go on for ever. When she awoke a little more she realized it wasn’t caressing, she was being tied down. She saw a figure standing over her.

‘So,’ he said. ‘Tell me, who are you?’

‘Number 5,’ she said. ‘I’m Slave #5’

‘Well done.’ He patted her on the tummy.

She looked around. The room they were in resembled some sort of medical room. There were little tubes, bright lights, all types of machines and needles. The man was wearing a white overcoat and a mint green surgeons mask. She recognized the gray eyes, always those familiar gray eyes.

'So in love,' he murmered. He gave her a wink.

Out of nothing a burst of love spiraled through her body. She felt giddy and shy like a schoolgirl in love for the first time. She couldn’t help but giggle.

‘That’s right,’ he said, ‘You’ll feel exactly what I’ll tell you to feel.’

He approached her with a needle an pressed it into the inside of her elbow. Then he connected her with an infusion machine and he pinched the bag, making sure not only a few drops but a whole splash of the amber colored liquid would flow trough the tube and enter her bloodstream.

‘What do Slaves do?’ he asked.

‘Slaves obey,’ she mumbled, she couldn’t take her eyes of the drip. What was he doing to her? What would the medication (entering her body ever so slowly) make her feel or do? What was his big plan?

He talked. He commanded. He told her what to feel, what to think and what to do. He said she would sleep every time he told her to and she wouldn’t wake up without his permission. He explained to her how she would feel aroused or subservient whenever he ordered it. He told her how she would serve her Masters.

Her mind became more and more blank, all of her own thoughts disappeared. She was a will-less, mind-less, obedient little slave. She was who he wanted her to be.

He told her to crave his touch and feel horny. A wave of arousal came over her, and then one more and one more. She was helpless against it. He teased her. His hand hovering over her thong. She wanted to be touched so badly, she pressed her hips up high, she followed his fingers all around, she pulled on her bounds.

He was exhausted. It was way past midnight. He didn’t plan on chasing #5 through the woods tonight. Or any night for that matter. When he recaptured her he didn’t want to return her to her room just like that. He had to make sure non of the training had been compromised. And just to be save he wanted to put her through another training or two, hell why not finish all of her training all in one go. He could ask a buyer to come get her tomorrow and this little brat would be gone. Fuck that stupid pink line. He could enjoy some alone time with #3 and start on grooming a new girl to be #6. Already three people had shown interest in this one anyway.

On the other side of the room she kept on begging to be touched. He swiveled his chair around to his laptop and he send an e-mail to the three buyers, so starting a three way bidding war for #5.

[larrydude]

Very interesting!