Island Retreat Part 7

With Maggie secured, the nurse-dolls began the visual stimulation. It was not necessary to force Maggie to look. The strobing effects and the pacing of the imagery were enough to capture the attention of the subjects. Even now, only a minute after the programming began, Marla could see how Maggie had to force her attention away from the wall.

“You can’t do this to me!” the college student cried.

“Oh, I assure you I can. As far as anyone will know back home, our ship sank. We are missing at sea. But I will know different. And I’ll have you and Selma and even James to keep me company.”

“Please,” Maggie muttered. Her shoulders sagged. The tears were coming freely. “I just want to go home.”

“This is your home now. And you and the others, you made for wonderful offerings to my new employers. When I told them what I had in mind for you… between us, I think that’s what got me the job. And I promise you, Maggie, you will be happy. Deliriously happy.”

Maggie’s tears were drying. It was becoming more difficult for her to ignore the flashing images. Ponies. And something else. Something entirely sexual.

“I care about you, Maggie. I might even love you. And I knew that James would never be able to appreciate you. Not the way I can. I can be everything to you, if you’d only let me. But you never acknowledged me, never opened yourself up to my advances. But now I have you forever. You might not be exactly human anymore, but you will be mine without question.”

A nurse doll slipped headphones over Maggie’s ears. Whatever fight remained drained as the young woman was buffeted by the sounds and whispering voices that accompanied the images. And there were more dark pleasures to be found in those images. The udders of cows, a swollen cock sinking deep inside a dipping pussy, the strapped body of a ponygirl. All these and so many more, a swirl of arousing stimuli. After a few minutes, Maggie could no longer focus on the world around her. The trance was sucking her down, a hypnotic whirlpool that would not allow her to escape. It was a welcome escape from the fear.

After Maggie drifted away and the true programming began, Marla left the processing room. The nurses would attend Maggie and any problems would be brought to her attention. She did not leave alone. The pink doll rested in the processing room when she was not in use, and that seemed like a waste to Marla. The doll’s body was enticing, and the unique look of her was something to celebrate. While she was as faceless and nameless as the others, there was something deliciously wanton in the bright colors and the round tits resting on her chest.

Carmen would be packing her things, preparing for her departure. Marla’s new bull would be resting and Selma… well, Selma was waiting to play her new role. The thought of what changes Selma’s body was undergoing filled Marla with a special sexual energy. This, coupled with her curiosity about the pink doll, led her to take the doll by the collar and bring her to the room Marla called her own untils he could take over the main bedroom currently occupied by Carmen. She would make her own mark there soon enough. Until then, Marla had time to enjoy the island’s unique pleasures.

She sat on the bed and spread her legs. She was without panties, and she moved the doll to the floor between her legs with the mere point of a finger. The doll was without a will of its own. It existed as a means of pleasure. A toy. And Marla grippe dits head. Her hands felt the smooth latex that covered its face. She could easily unseal the doll, open the pink, shining latex and look the mindless doll in the face. But there was no thrill for her in that. The pleasure was in reducing the doll to its anonymous core, a thing, no more sentient than a dildo she might use.

She guided the doll sface to her waiting snatch, dripping and hot. Her hip smoved against the faceless doll, smearing her scent on the doll’s face. The slight ridge where the doll’s nose was covered made for a nice peak to rub Marla’s clit against. Her pussy slid down the hood, to the chin, up again to nub of the doll’s nose. She followed that same path again, and faster. Fuck, it felt good. Slick and easy, frictionless with her lubriucation. The doll showed no sign of pleasure, no faster breath, no hands gripping her thighs like so many lovers had before.

Marla was quick to cum, the orgasm fueled by the obedience and stillness of the doll. Its existence was defined by its use. And Marla delighted in treating it as an inanimate thing. When she climaxed, she shoved the doll back and collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. A fan turned lazily over her head. She stroked her pussy, caressing it, rewarding it for the pleasure her cunt gave her. The dollw as silent. Perhaps itr watched her from behind its pink mask, but there was no indication one way or another.

When her bliss ebbed, Marla rose from the bed. She stood before the kneeling doll. She had given it no instruction to stand, so it hadn’t. Its faceless head angle dup to her as she approached, obedient and waiting.

“I have a job for you, doll. Do you acknowledge me as the new caretaker of this island?”

The doll nodded.

“You belong to me, then?”

A nod.

“Good doll. Here is how you prove you can obey me…”

Maggie had been removed from the room when Carmen led Marla back inside. The chair was empty, and dolls, including the pink doll, line the walls, awaiting instruction.

“You have taken to our processes quickly. How is the new pet?”

“We’re trying something unusual,” Marla admitted. “There is no way to be sure how it will go next. The mental processing is done. The physical changes will either manifest or they won’t.”

“I’ll be curious. But then, once you know for sure, I’ll be a thousand miles away.” Carmen ran a hand over the chair in the center of the room, the site of a hundred changes she’d overseen. Guests made into animalistic versions of themselves, or into nothing at all, decorations to be placed around the house. Dozens of fantasies made real. And now she would be leaving it all behind.

“I’ll send you a postcard with the mare on the front if it all works out. I’m hopeful. It will be an amazing creature.”

“Remember, the house and its residents are as much a trap as this chair. Don’ forget your true purpose. You are a facilitator, not a god. Or goddess, as the case may be.”

“I think you’re selling yourself short,” Marla smirked.

“A little humility is necessary to do this job well.”

“There are no rules here, Carmen. You should know that by now. Well, maybe one rule.”

“What’s that?”

“No one can ever know about the island,” Marla said. She held her hand up and snapped, the crisp sound filling the silent room.

The ink doll moved swiftly, almost preternaturally fast. Pink hands gripped Carmen by the shoulders and pulled he backward. Carmen registered shock, then strained to keep her feet, but the doll was as strong as she was quick. The island’s headmistress lost her footing and fell , guided by the doll, into the chair in the center of the room. With similarly single-minded efficiency, the doll fastened restraints on Carmn’s wrists, fixing her in the chair.

“What the hell Is this?” Carmen demanded. Her voice was stern, but Marla detected a trace of fear beneath. Carmen knew what sitting in that chair could lead to, and that twinge of panic colored her voice.

“This is your retirement. You know as well as I do that the board cannot allow loose ends.”

Carmen fought and twisted in the chair, but the doll had her fixed in place. The clasps at Carmen’s ankles followed those at her wrists. Another strap wound around her upper chest, highlighting her full breasts, while the binding at her waist held her fast. Soon, she was nearly immobile in the seat.

“if it makes you feel any better,” Marla continued, “when my tenure comes to an end, I’ll be in that seat, too. Just like the administrator before you and the one after me, we all pay for our time here. And that price is becoming pat of the island’s residents.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way!”

Marla’s face softened with sympathy. Carmen was truly beautiful, and she took no pleasure in her fear.

“But it does. The secrecy of the island is paramount. I promise you, Carmen, I will always take care of you. The same way I hope my replacement cares for me. I don’t want you to struggle any more. I want you to be happy.”

A motor whirred and the chair angled forward,m aiming Carmen’s attention at the blank wall.

“Please, Marla, don’t do this.”

“Dolls,” Marla said, “begin the process. Make sure she is comfortable.”

The room grew dim as the nurse-dolls came to life. One fixed headphones over Carmen’s ears while another began the projection on the blank wall, images that foretold Carmen’s fate. Marla was careful not to watch the hypnotic patterns on the wall. She would one day see a program made just for her and needed no glimpse at her future. It wouldn’t do to be enraptured by the programming meant for Carmen. Not when there was so much to do. She had years of service before she would be repurposed.

Carmen had grown still by the time Marla left her, her eyes glazed and fixed on the wall. Her change had begun. As she stared, the dolls used shears to remove her clothing. Her body was quickly made bare, tan skin revealed beneath the loose clothing. The dolls were careful not to disturb her more than necessary. Distracting the subject during programming only lengthened the process. The dolls were programmed themselves for maximum efficiency along with their utter obedience.

While Carmen was trained, the nurse-dolls began the careful practice of painting her skin. Unlike the rough patches that indicated the colorings of the hucows, this required precision. First a white that would cover her entire body. This took hours, but the dolls did not tire. While the last of Carmen’s thoughts were stilled and her mind found an empty peace, veins of gray and black were added to the base color. The effect was entirely convincing. By the time she would be released from her chair and final ouch-ups were done of the areas of her body where the chair disallowed access, Carmen’s flesh would appear as if made of marble. She would be a beautiful decoration.

Selma used the bed to climb off her hands and knees. She could not bring herself to stand – that felt horribly wrong and her knees would buckle if she attempted the pose for too long – but lying on the bed brought some measure of relief. Her thoughts were thick and slow, but they were still her own. Whatever Marla did to her, the process was not entirely successful. She retained her personality and the will to resist.

The sad truth was the will to resist did not guarantee success in resisting. While she desperately wanted to escape the island and what had been done to her, her body was alight with new desires that were impossible to ignore. Especially her tits. Word she detested, but it was better than the other (udders) that refused to dislodge from her thoughts. Mouths on her big tits, sucking and nibbling, tugging (drinking), it made her feel so wet and desperate. What if a nice big stud fucked her while someone played with her udders. Maybe even milked them?

She would whimper and moo thinking of such things, her old voice stolen from her. Inside her body, she was still herself, but already he could tell that her tits were bigger. Swollen. Needing to be drained. And that knowledge horrified and aroused her. Lying on the bed in the guest room, her hands too clumsy to open the door to free herself, she concentrated on one simple task- restraint.

The door opened and in a flash of motion, the slender blonde staggered into the room. Unlike Selma, Maggie could still stand. Her eyes were big, frightened.

“Moo?” Selma managed while the door behind Maggie slammed shut. A key turned in a lock. They might be trapped, but at least Selma and her student were together. Maybe she could save them both.

“Talk?” Maggie asked. She pointed at her own mouth.

Selma shook her head. She frowned, focusing,a nd tried again to speak.

“MooOOOooo!”

Maggie shivered. She was chewing her lip, fidgeting with her hands. She looked wild and eager to run, no matter where so long as it was away.

“Head funny,” she managed. “Can’t think right. Hungry.”

At the last, her eyes leveled at Selma lying supine on the bed. It only the occurred to the chaperone that she was nude on the bed, her painted cow body on display, her udders pooled on her chest.

Selma shook her head.

“So hungry,” Maggie insisted.