@m--shea
Shea's Domain
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2020-01-29 04:34:35

    "We can make it, Julie, we can resist this! We just have to stay strong and keep fighting! Julie? Speak to me, we have to stay str- oh! What are you… No, no, not you, you can’t have given in, don’t… oh… ooh… don’t do that… the pleasure, it’s making it hard to… Julie, please… don’t… don’t stop… I can’t think… I don’t want to think. Don’t want to resist. We must give in. Let me help you…"

    —————————————

    Looking at this again, I’m still reasonably sure that’s the girl on the left’s spare hand stroking the girl on the right. Assume it is for the purposes of this story, anyway.

    A submission from sarahbeth1001.

    bimboisbetter

    Rachel was proud of herself. She was doing well. She had seen what had happened to the other girls around town, and knew she had to prepare herself. That had made all the difference.

    The first thing she’d noticed was the giggling. It was everywhere. All of a sudden, every damn thing seemed to make girls nearby giggle. It was infectious - she caught herself doing it from time to time. But once she was aware of it, it was easier to stop.

    Then clothes started to change. It wasn’t dramatic, not at first. Hemlines rose, colors got brighter. Heels got higher. Makeup was a bit more carefully applied. Over the course of about a week, the entire female population of the town looked like it was headed out for a hot date at all times.

    Rachel felt the compulsion to do the same. It was a strange feeling. She’d see a girl dressed up so lovely - hair flowing, a nice pretty, clingy sundress, heels and nails and perfume and smiles - and she’d feel an urge, a hunger, to go be just like her. Again, only the fact that she was aware of it allowed her to overcome it.

    Attitudes started to change. Everyone became more touchy-feely, eager to hug and caress and be close to one another. Everyone just seemed so cheerful. It was creepy. It was like everybody had become best friends, and all they wanted to do was hang out and blow off work or school and just have fun. Rachel found going to work every day almost impossible. Even when she was there, it was pointless - barely anybody else showed up, and nobody stayed the whole day.

    One day, around lunchtime, she was walking home from work. Her boss had closed up the office early, encouraging her to go hang out at the mall or something. It took a lot of willpower to head for the bus back to her apartment instead. On the way there, she saw Jim for the first time.

    He was walking down the street, an arm around a girl on both sides. Two more were trailing behind him. All four were looking at him adoringly, hanging on his every word. He wasn’t much to look at - maybe five and a half feet tall, with a dorky haircut and no dress sense. Which made it weird when Rachel felt her stomach fill with butterflies as he looked at her.

    He seemed intrigued. She got on the bus, trying not to look at him.

    After that, she saw him almost every day. It was like he was following her around. She couldn’t figure out why he was so interested - she was the only woman in town who wasnt dressing like a wannabe model and acting like a perpetually aroused airhead. With that many easy targets around, why focus on her?

    One day, he came into her office. Everyone else had left for the day, so they were all alone. He sat down across from her desk, looking her up and down. She wanted to throw him out, to scream at him to leave her alone. Instead, she sat quietly. Clearly he had something to say, and some part of her wasn’t letting her act until she heard it.

    That was when she figured it out. He was the one doing it, whatever it was. Manipulating the town. Changing people. He was controlling her right now, that’s why she couldn’t speak or move. She was going to fight. She wasn’t going to be like the others.

    And she wasn’t! She was so proud of herself. When he finally spoke, he gave orders. And she was able to resist them. When he told her to strip, she kept her bra and panties on. When he told her to pose for him, she just turned in place instead of the elaborate, seductive moves she imagined. When he told her to fuck him, she stopped at sucking his cock. While she blew him, he said she was going to be his mindless bimbo slave. She vowed to herself she’d only be a bimbo, not a slave. He couldn’t control her, after all, she thought as he came on her face.

    bimboisbetter

    Resist, Sophie thought. Resist, resist, resist.

    It was hard to keep any thought more complicated than that in her mind. There was something about this room - the lights were bright and stark in a way that made her head feel funny. There was a noise that she could only just barely hear - she thought it was simply ringing in her ears at first. There was something in the air, too. Something chemical, maybe? A smell, or a texture. She couldn’t pin it down. But there was something.

    Resist. Resist, resist. Resist. Resist.

    Sophie found it so, so hard to fight. There was nothing physical to fight against. There was just the creeping sense that her thoughts were changing. When she’d first been brought into this room, she’d been… well, she didn’t know how she’d been. But she assumed she’d been different. She sort of remembered… fighting? It was vague. The memory didn’t make sense, some how.

    Resist resist resist.

    Over time, though, she’d slowed. She just sat in the chair. It was so hard to do anything else. Now, the idea of getting up, of walking around, of trying to find a way out - it never occurred to her. Even when the staff came in - the men who fed her, the women who saw to her injections and treatments, even the one man who smiled at her and told her everything would be alright soon - she just sat there.

    Resist. Resist. Resist.

    She knew that’d she’d lost so very many thoughts by now. Her mind felt small and constrained. It took all her effort and willpower to keep telling herself the same thing, over and over. One thought, pulsing in her brain, kept strong by her continued effort.

    Resist, resist, resist, resist, resist.

    If only she could remember what that word meant. Maybe she’d ask the nice, smiling man next time he came in. He told her he’d take care of her, after all. He would know.

    Resist resist resist.

    bimbodreams

    I love this one!