Serena DiLaurio, chauffeuse, age 20

An unexpected side effect of Lissa’s programming is near total recall. Whether it’s because for all practical purposes she exists in a sort of permanent trance, or the upload/download conditioning caused her to relive all of her memories in a short period of time, the end result is that she can access nearly her entire life’s memories with perfect clarity. If I were more scrupulous this would be a scientific breakthrough of unprecedented proportions, but I have all the scruples of a 16th century Venice pickpocket. I’ll just file this away and enjoy the results.

The results in question are that Lissa can pick up new skills very easily, including basic inductions and deepening techniques, something we’ll be using on her ride when she shows up.

Serena DiLaurio, age 20, graduated PIA Commercial Drivers school. Class A license, all endorsements. Why the local tech school that trains people to build airplane engines also teaches truck driving is beyond me, but she also has a fixed wing license for props and jets as well as a helicopter license. Following basic tactical strategy, the first step in any invasion is to attack or reappropriate supply lines, followed by disrupting transportation and communication. I’ve already co-opted the supply lines. Now to take control of transportation.

Between picking my alpha bitch’s mental library and some social media stalking I’ve determined that Serena is probably going to be a soft target. She’s a bigger girl, 185 on a 5’4” frame, beautiful hazel eyes, I’d hazard a 42 E cup although that’s a conservative guess. Some women just look better with a little extra padding, and I’m a sucker for a round face and chubby cheeks. With all that though she has some serious self esteem issues, and puts on the happy fat girl act to cover a deep black pit where her sense of self worth should be. Which explains why she’s working for this piece of shit. If she were living anywhere but a rural compound surrounded by empty space and uninterested potential partners, she’d be linking her self worth to how many guys she could bed in a week.

According to Lissa, Serena threw herself at Winslow when she was hired six months earlier. When the vain motherfucker shot her down she took it poorly and ever since has basically kept to herself. Lissa is probably the closest thing she has to a friend. If I’m reading her right, she’ll fall in love at the first sign of any real affection and become as utterly devoted as a puppy to someone who treats her well.

Lissa and I hash out our strategy while I help her plan the menu for the week and shop for what she’ll need to feed 13. Yeah, I plan on being present on the compound for the foreseeable future. The grounds are big enough that I could probably hide out there for a month and no one would be the wiser, and it’ll make my job easier to be able to course correct first hand if things go all pear shaped.

The plan is pretty simple. Lissa will call Serena and ask her to come early and stay the night so they can get an early start. It’s about a three hour drive and this isn’t the first time she’s done this. What will be a first is mentioning that an old school friend happens to be in town and is offering to take both of them to dinner. Enter me, stage right. Over said dinner between Lissa and myself we’ll manage to lead Serena into trance. From there, I’ll play it by ear. I don’t like to think too far ahead on attacks of opportunity, letting the target’s personally dictate their particular path to enslavement.

In Serena’s case that path will be Bimbofication. Her outward demeanor and those astounding tits practically demand it, and I admit to a preference for it. Short of outright mind wiped blowjob zombies it requires the least radical changes, and you can almost always find one a good home in the long run.

Missy was a great bimbo, although I’m starting to realize that I probably should have left some of her higher faculties in place. Unfortunately along with her IQ I had managed to suppress her self-preservation instincts as well. She never saw the red flags that any of my newer girls would have responded to with defensive action. I make a note to go back and arrange to update any of my older models.

I suppose it might seems strange that I’m going to all this trouble just to avenge one human life. After all, I’m a horrible human being, I rank ridiculously high on the dark triad of psychopathology, and I see people as little more than ambulatory meat sacks with wiring in their head that is shockingly easy to manipulate. To all outward appearances, my girls become little more than a life support system for a set of warm welcoming holes, but the operative word in that sentence is ‘my’.

The press’s monicker for me was ‘The Dollmaker’ and as I age and look back over a fairly long career as, let’s face it, a serial **** and kidnapper, I realize that the name does ring sort of true. I’m Geppetto carving his Pinocchio. I’m Pygmalion with his Galatea. I’m Henry Higgins with Eliza Doolittle. These girls are mine. They are an extension of me, and in my own way as I craft each of them painstakingly, each as unique as a snowflake, I fall in love with each of them (except for that Slovenian whore. What can I say? I was young. I take no responsibility for her or her husband). While I see most of the population as nothing but raw material, my girls are real people, and I am their creator. And like Jehovah in the Old Testament, I am a vengeful god.

So it’s really not all that irrational that I decide to strike down a lump of meat that killed one of the 42 real people in the world, and in the process I’ll be spreading my Gospel and giving life to eleven new souls. What I do to Winslow won’t make him human.

Conversational hypnosis is a very real and effective tool when it comes to getting someone into a dark space so you can tie them up and have your way with them. It gets a deservedly bad rap from the public for its prominence in pick-up artist culture as a substitute for roofies, and the way it’s used by miscreants like Ross Jeffries and his spawn are a constant headache to Bandler and Grinder. Well, Grinder anyway, Bandler probably used NLP to get laid all the time in the 70s. Either way, the technique works in the short term, which is all I would ever use it for.

Which is all we use it for. Detailing the conversation here would be tedious and extraordinarily boring, but suffice to say that Lissa and I rapidly dragged her focus back and forth like a pendulum, creating enough confusion that I was able to bypass critical thinking with a few well placed suggestions, and convince her to enter a trance just to dispel that confusion. Once that happened it was just a matter of deepening it and “escorting our drunk friend” upstairs to Lissa’s room.

The basic protocols for all my girls start with breaking them down to baseline. As I’ve said elsewhere, you can’t truly destroy memories without radical external **** or a brain hemorrhage, and while I’m not adverse to to the occasional use of ECT and I do enjoy physically sculpting my subjects, I tend to draw the line at actually destroying grey matter. So while Serena sits there blankly smiling with her eyes focused on something no one else will ever see, I slip into her memories and help her box them all up. I teach her that before she was Serena the bubbly fat girl she was Seesee. That I am her guardian, and have always been, and that I will always take care of her as long as she obeys me. I then instill in her the five basic principles of being a bimbo:

1. Always take pride in your appearance
2. Your focus in life is to please those around you and thereby please yourself.
3. In thought, word, and deed always strive to be your absolute best self, regardless of the sacrifices you need to make to become that self.
4. Always seek to be a source of joy, not stress.
5. Allow yourself to be taken care of.

Pretty empowering stuff, huh? But I tend to amp it up to 11.

Pride in appearance means that a bimbo’s hair and makeup are always perfect, that she is never without heels, that she has no hair except eyelashes and that which naturally grows on her scalp, that she dresses to show off her appearance to the best of her ability.

Pleasing others may seem self explanatory, but it also means that aside from outward appearance a bimbo is always wet and ready. A bimbo never wears underwear that will get in the way of a hard cock. A bimbo is always wet and ready. A bimbo derives her own pleasure from being able to give pleasure to others.

The absolute best self… well that’s where my head games come in. Helping Seesee to define ‘self’, I let her see that she wanted to be the center of attention, that she wanted to make every jaw in the room drop when she walked in. I taught her that she must always strive for that. In the long run we’ll add in better eating habits and a healthy exercise regimen, and eventually go the ‘plastic makes perfect’ route. Not every bimbo needs to look like my darling Alicia, but most of them end up wanting to.

This leads to being a source of joy not stress. Seesee now understands that her role in life is to bring as much joy as possible to those around her. While she was already quite eager to please at the start, that came mostly from a desire for attention. Her new outlook on life makes it so that she now pleases others for the sheer pleasure that it brings her.

The final principle, in the bimbo culture on the rise today, is generally interpreted as the world owing the bimbo for her existence. My own interpretation, and therefor Seesee’s, is that a bimbo needs looking after. She is a source of pleasure for all, but this also means that the world will take advantage of her, so someone needs to see to it that she’s protected while she strives to be her absolute best self. Every bimbo needs a guide, a mentor, a Daddy or Mommy to take care of her and make the hard decisions. As she travels the path I’m setting her on, eventually others will seek to win her good graces by doing things for her, and she needs to let that happen without thinking of repayment; a bimbo never sees herself as being in debt or needing to make payment, as everything she is she gives freely to those around her.

While Seesee has been learning about who she is, Lissa has been frantically masturbating, I having allowed her to experience this through the eyes of the woman rather than those of the mindless drone. Possibly due to her ‘secondary function’ she seems to be very turned on by the process of me… well what I’m doing is far to gentle to be mind fucking. Making love to the mind of? No, that sounds way too weird. Either way she’s gotten herself quite hot and bothered by Seesee’s training.

“God, please tell me you’re going to fuck her.”

“I dunno. I’m kinda tired. You think this is easy?”

“I didn’t say that, boss. But seriously, it’s so fucking hot to watch you go all Svengali on her. I wanna see this through to completion.” She bites her lower lip as she continues to jill herself. “Tell me you don’t wanna watch me eat your cum out of her pussy.”

It’s been four hours. I’m exhausted, especially after how intense Lissa’s own training was, but it really will help her to imprint on me. And every bimbo needs a Daddy. I sigh. “Alright. Lemme finish up and get a drink first.”

She squeals with joy and pounces on my lap, kissing me hard on the mouth. As she grinds herself to orgasm against my cock, she whispers in my ear, “thank you, Owner.”

“…and awaken to the only true life you have ever known.” I snap my fingers next to Seesee’s ear and her eyelids flutter open. Her hazel orbs dart around the room in confusion, first coming to rest on Lissa, which brings a smile to her lips. She slowly takes in the rest of the room until finally her eyes find me. The smile that creased her face becomes even broader. “Good morning Daddy.”

My heart, small, black, and twisted though it may be, fills with love at the sight of her beatific expression. Absolute, unfettered joy shines in the eyes that only last night hid only pain and self disgust. With that surge of love comes a rush of the greatest aphrodisiac known to man, a sense of power. I have created life once more, and my cock gets hard all on its own. “Good morning Seesee.”

Noticing the sudden tent in my pants, she gives me a mischievous grin. “Is that for me?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, and casually places a hand over the offending member. “It looks like something is swelling, Daddy. Does it hurt? Can I kiss it better?”

I smile indulgently and unbutton my fly. She reaches out a chubby hand, her arms broad with visible cellulite that quivers as she reverently wraps her fingers around my erection. Though her fingers are thick, her hand is too small to fully wrap around my girth. She looks up at me as if searching for approval before caressing my cock.

Her warm and slightly sweaty hands grip my cock, gliding along its length and trailing over the underside massaging my urethra. As I harden in her hand, her lips part and her small pink tongue darts out to taste my precum. Her eyes close as she savors the taste, mouth slightly open to let out an ecstatic sigh. “Can I take you in my mouth, Daddy?”

I look down into her loving eyes and nod. Her mouth opens further and she take the head into it. The feeling of that tongue against my frenulum is exquisite, as is the warmth of her mouth. She lightly grazes her teeth along my glans as, still gazing up at me she slowly engulfs my length. Centimeter by centimeter my cock disappears into her eager mouth. I feel her uvula slide along it’s length as it finally encounters obstruction in the form or her epiglottis. Even this is remedied by an heroic swallow on her part, and I can feel her esophagus stretch to accommodate my girth. Her nose brushes against my pubic hair, and I swear I can hear her sigh In contentment (which is impossible, as there’s no way she’s breathing right now).

She holds me there, trapped in her throat, for a minute that feels like an eternity, before drawing back just as slowly. She lets me go with an audible pop, and this time truly does sigh. “Daddy, you’re yummy. Will you fuck my mouth, please?”

How do you say no to that? She squeals with glee as I put my hand on the back of her head, and opens her mouth like she would for a doctor looking at her tonsils. My thrusts are slow and gentle. I don’t want this to end in her mouth. I wouldn’t call what I’m doing facefucking. I’m making love to her face, allowing her to savor something she so clearly enjoys. She gazes up at me, her hazel eyes rapturous, her hands flying almost of their own accord to frig herself at a blinding pace. I plumb her mouth for several minutes, only stopping when she brings herself to orgasm, moaning softly around my cock.

She looks disappointed when I pull out, but that disappointment turns to ecstasy as I bring her to her feet and kiss her hungrily, a kiss she returns in kind. Our mouths don’t disconnect even as I guide her down onto the bed, even as I penetrate her for the first time. Her sighs of pleasure at my first thrust all the incentive I need. Her nails rake my back as I pull away, my thrusts increasing in intensity as I look down on those glorious fleshy globes that bounce on her chest.

I don’t know how many times she’s cum when I finally explode inside her, but when I look down on her, her breasts splayed to each side, cum dripping from her gaping red cunt, she’s grinning deliriously.

“Thank you Daddy. That was wonderful.”

True to her word, Lissa doesn’t leave a single drop.