The Dollmakers

Okay, so I intend to write a whole bunch of mind control stories, some one shots, a couple of short series mainly. I thought it might be good to have people meet the only characters guaranteed to feature.

These are my villains, the Dollmakers.

There's not a lot of actual sex in this one, but there will be soon.

"Are you the Dollmakers?" Edgar Bates looked at the figures across from him, each taking up one of two comfortable armchairs in the meeting room of what looked like a country club. Bates felt twitchy, like he shouldn't be here.

The man laughed. "Oh god that name, makes us sound like supervillains. I'm Mason, and that's Annette, but yes, we're the people you're looking for.

"I expected you to be, older," it was a fair criticism, both of them were south of thirty. The man was bald and lean, wearing a white T shirt and cargo pants. The woman was a goth, boots, leather pants, black vest and spiked armbands, her long black hair broken up with red braids. "And I heard you were both men."

"Oh," Annette laughed, "you're talking about Mason and the senior partner. He's much more into the back end of things. He'll be involved if something goes wrong, or with special projects, but he doesn't really handle the clients. Not unless you're wiling to pay about ten times what you're currently paying. I'm his daughter, something of a prodigy in the family business."

"Oh," he sat with that for a moment. Was it strange that the idea that this was a family business was reassuring? Made it feel official. "Look, it's not going to hurt her is it? I mean, the changes?"

"No," the bald man leaned forward, his face lighting up with an intense smile. "We used to use torture as a form of conditioning but it's ultimately not efficient. It only works for so long and you can't really work on the specifics. You can make someone into 'just about' what you want, but 'just about' isn't nearly good enough."

"Not at the prices we charge," Annette quipped, and Mason's weird intensity faded. He cleared his throat.

"Ultimately the techniques we use are a mix of chemical and hypnotic persuasion, with a dash of social engineering and behavioural programming. Your wife will be returned to you perfectly safe, less any surgeries you've got in mind of course."

"Oh no I don't need any surgeries I just," he sighed. "She won't listen to me. When we were dating she was so sweet, so happy to be with me. She was hitting the jackpot. I mean, I'm a little older than her but I'm loving, I'm loyal, I've got a got a good job but as soon as we got married, it was like she turned on me completely. Like that ring somehow sucked out the kind, sweet demure girl and what was left was this critical, bitter, disobedient little," his fist clenched and he set out a long sigh. "I just want the love of my life back."

The bald man got up and put his hand on Edgar's shoulder. "That's what we're here for," his voice was soft. "You'll get her back. You filled out the paperwork right? The changes you want made?" He nodded, he'd filled out dozens of papers, they'd been insanely detailed. The exact ways she wasn't what he wanted, the exact things he needed changed. "You'll be getting the exact girl you had in mind when you filled that out."

"Really?"

"Absolutely," he smiled.

"How do I know?"

"Would you like a tour of the facility? Would that comfort you?"

"Uh, sure," Mason helped him up and the three of them left the room, heading through corridors full of beautiful people.

"She'll still be her right? My Amy, just, the old version?"

"I think now is the time to tell you what we can't do. Our methods can do a lot, but we can't fundamentally change who a person is. We can alter details, make changes, adjust things."

"Like raising someone's sex drive, making them more obedient, making someone interested in something they weren't interested before, or not interested in something they were." They walked into a cafeteria where a handful of those beautiful people were eating wonderful meals. "But we can't make you into something you absolutely weren't before. We can't make you do anything that isn't in there at least a little. The trick is uncovering the right parts, and covering the wrong ones up." Mason gave her an annoyed look as she spoke, and she gave one back.

"For our more intense transformations we have boarding facilities, where each subject is given their own meal plan, exercise regimen and behavioural programs. The details are quite interesting if you have the time."

"But," Annette raised her hand to stop him talking, "that's not what we're going to be dealing with in your case. You've only requested small changes, so there should be minimal disruption in her life, or yours. She won't even be aware anything is happening. I've arranged for her nutritionist to go on vacation for a while and recommend me to replace her. A few sessions, a new supplement or two added to her diet and she'll be the perfect sweet little housewife."

"And she'll be more, you know, eager in the bedroom?" Annette laughed at that and Edgar flushed, but she smiled, steering him through rooms where various suggestions were being made to beautiful men and women with a range of equipment. They all looked spaced out.

"Sorry, it's just that eager in the bedroom is pretty much the only thing we never have to advertise or offer. It comes standard with pretty much every package." She smiled at him, he'd been put off at first but now she seemed attentive and interested, she was probably a nice girl under that makeup and those spikes. "It's what we've mastered."

"I understand," he muttered. "Sorry it's just, I've always been awkward about sex."

"Well she won't be once she leaves our metaphorical doors. So is that all you need to see? Happy to know your pretty little wife is gonna be your pretty little wife again?"

"Yeah, that should be fine," he paused. Mason smiled at Annette and she rolled her eyes, behind Edgar's back she raised three fingers, then dropped to two, then one. "There's just one other thing."

"Oh? What's that?" she sounded innocent as an angel.

"I've heard some stories about your, more extreme clients, the long term dolls. They're probably an urban myth but," he let the words hang.

"You want to see them," Mason smiled.

"I mean, if they're real."

"They are, they're my masterpieces, my works of art, and they're exactly what you've heard in your fantasies and horror stories. Now I'm going to ask you one more time before I show you, are you sure you want to see them?" Edgar almost backed out, but morbid curiosity got the best of him.

"I am."

Mason smiled wide. Edgar had expected to be lead to a basement, so he was surprised when the three of them headed out to a pool. He gestured out to a small crowd of scantily clad, or completely naked, men and women, maybe a dozen in all including the staff. He smiled and waved to them, to a one they waved back. He beckoned a short redhead closer and she came over and smiled, wrapping her arm around his back. "This is Silence, she doesn't talk, won't express herself in any way unless directly asked to, and won't speak aloud at all. Silence, say hello," the girl waved and Edgar gawped at her bountiful curves so brazenly displsyed. "Her tits are amazing aren't they?"

"I mean, well, yes very impressive."

"Wanna play with 'em? Silence, go," she walked up to Edgar, chest poked out. He reached out and gently tweaked her nipple, then cupped her tit with his hand. "She'd let you put your cock between 'em and paint her face if I told her to, no questions asked." He pointed to a dark skinned brunette "she has a PHD, but through our treatment I'm not sure she could even spell her own name," a heavily tattooed blond woman, "she's constantly aroused, and can't orgasm unless she's in pain," a man who looked like a statue "is the most devoted body builder you'll ever meet, he views himself as a walking masterpiece and will spend his entire life chasing perfection. Then there's your garden variety custom built servants and nymphomaniacs, people who have been taught to actively resent and resist the idea of making their own choices and want nothing more than to submit." He smiled.

"That's,, a lot."

"It's my art," he shrugged, "well, our, the others helped with the execution, but the ideas and designs are mine."

"How did you learn to do all of this by your age?"

"Trade secret. Are you satisfied now?"

"I mean, yes, but, not quite. Look, hypothetically, if I wanted to make a few more changes to Amy."

"That would come with a significantly higher cost," Annette lead him away. "Let's talk."

One Month Later

Edgar returned home from work, Annie's time away almost had him missing her, even if she had been an irritating shrew lately she might not have been that bad. He opened the door and stepped back at what he saw.

Annie, her blond hair curled around her head, her make-up tasteful, holding a drink and only wearing an apron, her lithe dancers legs exposed.

"Hey there baby," her voice was eager and happy. "I'm so glad to see you! I poured you a drink," she handed him a scotch on the rocks, she hated when he drank. "Dinners in the oven, it should only be about half an hour." She was an amazing cook, he'd missed that almost as much as the sex. "Why don't you take a load off?" She lead him to the living room and he started searching Netflix for something to watch, confused but pleased.

Then he hears a zip and looks down. Annie was on her knees in front of him.

"What are you doing?"

"You've had a hard day. You work hard to keep us comfortable, I should take care I'd you," she pulled out his half hard cock and gave it a long experimental lick. He sighed as the blowjob began, but jumped in surprise when he saw the note pinned to the top of her head, where he'd only see if she was a full head below him.

He took it and opened it, seeing a small note in neat handwriting.

"Enjoy your new bride.

XOXO

The Dollmakers"