Becoming Dorothy

Chapter 2: Making over Body and Mind

by MadamKistulot

Tags: #cw:noncon #dom:female #f/f #masturbation #pov:bottom #sub:female #urban_fantasy #dollification #growth #transformation

Disclaimer: If you are under age, not a fan of lesbian mind control, or otherwise not permitted to read ahead, this is your warning. All of the women portrayed are of a legal age for such naughty endeavors, and the term ‘girl’ is not used to denote otherwise. Nonconsensual sex is unethical in real life, and any such examples within this fiction is not condoning or supporting such acts. The following work is copyright Madam Kistulot 2022, and not for reposting or other such uses. 

Chapter 2: Making over Body and Mind

How did I… get here…? Catherine blinked as she saw the inside of a very pink room. She didn’t recognize it, with its offensively cheerful pink-and-white wallpaper, and all of the furniture matching. Something about it all seemed wrong and artificial in a way that ordinary furniture didn’t. Is it all…?


“Oh, my dolly is thinking again…” Bronwen spoke, and Catherine shuddered. They had only been hazy beginnings of concepts, ideas, but being told she was thinking made it easier to concentrate. That made it easier to remember being lead to the strange house, but no easier to remember how she’d suddenly awoken in the room.

It was almost like a dream and the journey between the two places simply wasn’t interesting enough for her brain to show her. Even struggling with all of the power of her awakened mind there was nothing between there and here.

Simply a blank, hazy gap.

I need… need to run, to flee, to get out of here, to—

“Let’s do something about that, shall we…?”


Bronwen’s fingers snapped in front of Catherine’s face, and she let out a loud mewl at how unnaturally startling it was. They were just fingers, nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary, but the sound was a thunderclap that shoved all of her thoughts right out of her head.

Where there was once confusion and scrambling to determine which way could help her escape or what to even do there was now only calm.

Bronwen smiled, her eyes shifting from green to yellow in the space of a blink.

“Much better, dolly. Why don’t you let yourself enjoy being empty for me. You’re going to be a lot emptier than you used to be, and it’s going to last for a very long time.” Sighing, Bronwen trailed fingertips along both of Catherine’s cheeks. A shudder rolled down her spine. “Tell me, what is everything I say?”

“C-correct… Everything you say is… correct…” Catherine moaned, her voice growing quieter with each word. It almost sounded as though she were sinking deeper away as her shoulders slumped lower. “So… correct…”

Bronwen clapped her hands together, but even though the sound was so much louder than the snap of her fingers Catherine barely reacted at all. All she did was mewl as Bronwen’s eyes hooded and her lips spread into her unnaturally wide, inhumanly pleased smile. Her eyes scanned the slumping woman’s body, nodding with inscrutable thoughts before she reached out to lift Catherine’s chin with a pair of fingers placed just below.

Their eyes met, but Catherine’s were barely open at all. Thin slits of brown peeked out from behind heavy lids, so glassy they hardly seemed to be capable of sight at all.

Her whole body looked held up by those two fingers, slumping and slackening more with every moment as she lost herself so completely under the sensation. Bronwen told her to enjoy being empty, and while Catherine wasn’t smiling that would defeat part of the command.

She wasn’t thinking or actively feeling happy. She was blank, and there was a bliss to it that she wouldn’t be able to process again until her mind was her own or she was commanded to think. In the moment, she could only be blank and enjoy the way it felt to be receptive and supple to Bronwen’s will.

Bronwen’s correctness followed Catherine into the blank space where her own thoughts could not. She drifted, held aloft by Bronwen’s fingers, too soft and peaceful and blank to even sigh.

Yellow eyes hooded, and in another blink their color shifted from a predatory yellow to a lustful red.

“That’s a very good girl, Catherine… Blank for me, empty for me, like a dolly should be…” Bronwen’s fingers lifted Catherine’s chin higher, pushing firmly before drawing back. Wordlessly, the touch commanded Catherine’s body to remain in its position even as Bronwen began to circle her. “You’re my doll, and that means we really should take care of how…”

Gesturing uselessly, Bronwen struggled to find the perfect word. She had all of the time in the world, and she knew it.

Catherine was too blank, too lost, too deep in Bronwen’s sway to be aware of the passage of time—much less capable of being impatient. Bronwen commanded her emptiness, and Catherine was incapable of rising from it on her own. She was incapable of understanding anything but her own quiet joy, and Bronwen’s words when they invaded the space of her otherwise silent mind.

While standing behind her, Bronwen tsked as she flicked open the button of Catherine’s jeans. “How common you look…? These aren’t really appropriate clothes for a dolly. They’re more clothing for a person… and what are you, dolly…?”

“I…” Catherine tried to whine, but no sound came from her lips. She’d been forbidden from the sound before, and she lacked any desire to find another sound she could make or to struggle against it. Were it not for questions Bronwen had asked before, and the way she reacted to Catherine’s mind, she might have stayed silent. Instead, she responded with an “What am I…?”

A deft nail hooked the zipper of Catherine’s jeans. A moment later they fell to the ground, a pile of messy, stained denim.

“Need you to… tell me…”

“Mmmm… You are such a quick learner, dolly…!” Bronwen grasped one of Catherine’s arms, shifting it until her loose hand reached up towards the ceiling. “That only happens when I find dollies who want this, dolls who were born to be this.” Shaking her head, Bronwen lifted Catherine’s other arm until it matched the first. Both maintained their position, hanging limp as if held aloft by strings connected to the ceiling. “Not just everyone makes the perfect dolly, you know! It’s sad, but true…!”

“S-sad but… true…”

Giggles poured out of Bronwen’s lips as she grasped the hem of Catherine’s top and slowly lifted it off of her dolly’s body. Grasping her modest breasts was a simple bra only a few hues darker than her own skin with no adornment or flair. When Catherine’s turtleneck joined the pile with her pants, Bronwen, stepped around to look over her dolly’s exposed body with a shake of her head and a clicking of her tongue.

Moving back around Catherine, Bronwen’s hands quickly grasped at the strap of her bra and yanked to free the hooks. A moment later Catherine felt her arms lowered, but when, and how—everything but the sensation of the bra moving against her bare skin—was lost to her deep inside of her empty abyss.

“Such a boring garment…” Bronwen shook her head, eyes blue from a past blink before they turned red anew with another. Her voice shifted from incredibly sad when they were blue to cheerful, even hungry with the tint of red. “But that’s fine! Nothing I can’t fix…”

Catherine was too deep inside of her blank void for anything Bronwen said to worry her, but that also meant she was far too blank, far too empty to mind being reassured even if it was more like one would talk to an inanimate object than a person. That didn’t bother her, because she wasn’t mentally present enough to be bothered.

Besides, Bronwen was always correct.

Bronwen’s nails teased just above the pink waistband of Catherine’s panties. Her breath quickened, and her body shifted in response to the intimate touch that knew just how to move to make her nerves all come alive with yearning and need. Still, Catherine remained just as blank, just as empty. None of Bronwen’s touches could rouse Catherine from the depths of her emptiness.

They could only fill her with yet more.

“These are fine enough… pink is cute on a dolly…! But…” Shaking her head, Bronwen slowly tugged the pair of panties down, exposing her doll’s neatly shaven sex beneath to the warm air of the room. Catherine twitched, but did nothing else. “Oh… I never did tell you what you were, did I? Let’s fix that now…”

Grinning, Bronwen took a slow deep breath before whispering low into Catherine’s ear.

“You are a good dolly.”

“I am… a… good… dolly…”

The words soaked into her receptive mind, staining her even more than the crotch of her fallen panties. In her emptiness there were more truths that pinned her to that blankness.

Bronwen was always correct.

She was a good dolly.

The two together made her pussy tingle, but it was only a passive ache so deep and lost to Bronwen’s mesmerizing control.

“Mmmm… I just love the way you say that! In fact?” Bronwen’s eyes hooded as she pulled away, a hand reaching for a large, wooden closet door. “From now on, whenever your mind drifts over what you are, at all, or you talk about? I want you to say ‘I’m a good dolly’ in the most cheerful voice you can!”

Catherine’s expression stayed quiet, her tone muted, but there was a bliss to it that couldn’t be ignored when she spoke. “I’m a good dolly…”

“That’s right! You’re a good dolly… Mm…” As she looked through so many large, frilly dresses, Bronwen quietly hummed to herself. “What else should we… I wonder… an open back affords some interesting opportunities… but having it closed off has more of you hidden away, and that’s definitely good, too…”

Of course she didn’t bother to waste any time consulting with her possession, and Catherine wouldn’t have been good for giving any answer that she wasn’t given. Talking to her was little more valuable than Bronwen talking to herself—and she was already doing that.

“Ah… before I worry about your dress… Let’s start with this, shall we?” Bronwen’s eyes hooded as she stepped away from the closet, and reached inside of a nearby dresser. “Close your eyes, dolly! I want to surprise you!”

“I’m a good dolly…” Catherine’s eyes slowly melted shut. “Bronwen is always correct…”

Bronwen grinned as she approached with her hands behind her back. “Ooooh… I like that one! Let that one just slip out… at random. Or whenever it feels appropriate. I’m never going to mind hearing that, and I’m the one that matters here, right…?”

Catherine’s hips jerked forward. Bronwen’s correctness, her truth, it wasn’t just right, it was sexy. It teased places deep inside of her, places outside of her, and made her clit sing and her nipples throb.

“Y-you’re… the one… that matters…”

“That one’s fun, too… and… here…!” Pink lace wrapped round Catherine’s chest, balcony cups attempting to cradle her breasts while offering an enticing view finding not enough tissue to emphasize. “Hmm. It’s definitely your color, but we’ll need to work on helping you fit… but that’s nothing I can’t solve! The shape of your body is for me to decide.”

Bronwen tapped a fingertip to Catherine’s nose.

“Say it.”

Catherine groaned, her lips straining to move at all even if she had no choice but to obey. “The shape of my body is… f-for you… to decide…!”

Between the pleasure of obedience, and the way Bronwen flicked and pinched at her nipples half-hidden in the large cups of her bra, Catherine’s voice couldn’t help but shudder. All of the joy she could enunciate from deep inside of the emptiness that submerged her still reached her lips, but even if she was a dolly she wasn’t immune to her own reactions of pleasure.

Simply being touched wouldn’t have felt so good, but it wasn’t just about the touch. She wasn’t being touched like a lover, or a playmate.

She was being touched like a thing, and that made parts of her doll-brain light up.

“Then let’s see here… lift that foot, dolly…” Catherine dutifully obeyed, feeling the lace pulled past her foot, then then up along her leg. “Put that down… now the other! You’re much more cooperative than my porcelain dolls… less fragile, too. That’s two benefits… and that’s before we even see you in your dress! A dolly looks best in a pretty dress.”

Catherine couldn’t even nod, but she still eagerly took in every word spoken to her.

“A dolly… looks best… in a pretty dress…”

Bronwen’s truth swam around the helpless Catherine deep inside of the void of her own mind. Her mouth hung open, and her thighs twitched around the lacy panties that held so close to her skin they revealed every small shape of her pussy hidden underneath. A stain from her lust was already spreading across the fabric, but Catherine was too lost to be aware of anything but Bronwen’s presence and the words that compelled her to obey, to please, to be a good and polite dolly.

“I’m a good dolly… Bronwen is always right… The shape of my body is… for you… to decide…”

One after another the words flowed from her lips as Bronwen again looked through the closet. As she glanced from one dress to another, her eyes shifted from red to emerald-green with another blink. “Which of these says ‘I’m a proper, polite dolly’ but also ‘I’m here for you to squeeze whenever you want’…?”

Bronwen’s search, and Catherine’s empty drifting weren’t the only things happening in the room. Though she was hardly aware of it, if she had a choice Catherine would have been grateful that she couldn’t feel the tingling ache of her breasts swelling to fill the cups of her bra. It would have felt just as unpleasant and uncomfortable as it had before when she was younger.

Instead, she remained placid as her breasts grew to comfortably fit, and then the faintest bit more to make the sight strained while not unpleasantly so. It didn’t make the minimal cups of the bra look inadequate, more that the purpose was to entice rather than to conceal.

“I really think an open back would… oh… Oh no.” Bronwen’s face twisted up as she approached Catherine. Her eyes were focused right between her legs, and instead of raising higher as she stepped nearer, Bronwen sunk lower until she was on her knees. “I can’t have you being a bad dolly and staining all of the pretty clothes I pick out just for you…”

Bronwen blinked, and her eyes changed from green to blue

“So we’ll need to do something about this, too…”

With a deft movement, Bronwen reached out for Catherine’s panties, tugging and pulling them to smooth their shape. High above, Catherine could barely handle the intense sensations and struggled to whimper and mewl even if no sound escaped, and the shape became smoother, hinting at nothing more than the curve of her body.


With another blink, Bronwen’s eyes shifted back to red. Her lips pressed to the center of Catherine’s panties, and this time Catherine didn’t quiver from the touch at all.

Bronwen batted her lashes up at Catherine, purring quietly as she whispered right against the cotton of her panties. “Remind me again, what you are?”

“I’m…” Catherine sucked in a sharp breath. She might not have tensed up from the touch, but feeling Bronwen’s truth inside of her, feeling it escape from her lips, it was still nearly overwhelmingly good when she had no other stimulation at all. “I’m a… good… dolly…”

Another kiss pressed to Catherine’s panties before Bronwen whispered again. “Now, it’s time to sleep for me. I don’t want you to see the dress until you wake back up…:”

“Y-yesss… B-Bronwen…” Catherine groaned. “Sleep…”

Emptiness swallowed what little of Catherine still remained present at all.

Author's Note: Bronwen has brought her new dolly home, but what does she plan next? If you want to find out before everyone else, even read it right now? Check out my Patreon campaign! Not only do you get stories before anyone else, and access to exclusive blogs, and the occasional input on a story or two, but it's a good way to let me know that you want to see more of this story, and others like it! If you'd like to join in with a group of fellow mind control fetishists to discuss this and other stories, join us at The Mind Control Literature Discord or my personal discord, Madam Kistulot's Domain!

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