Pixie Isobella

“All the girls here are hot, you’ve just got to pick the one you want. I can’t wait to own my very own girl!”

Alia’s Saturday afternoon turns into a nightmare when she falls through a portal into a futuristic sci-fi world — a world where human women like her are ‘piloted’ as mannequins, unable to resist the demands of their ‘owners’. Captured by the charismatic pilot, Garvan Excelsior, Alia is soon renamed ‘Allie’ and begins her training to become Garvan’s fully trained and compliant fucktoy. ‘Alia’s Grace’ is a non-con mind control story broadly set in the isekai genre.

Alia’s Grace — The Mannequin Game: Chapter 1

[Alia’s Grace contains non-consent erotica, mind control, bimbo training and female submission. All characters are over 18.]

It was a normal Saturday afternoon when I fell through a portal into another world — into a life built on sexual servitude and enslavement.

The first thing I noticed was that my forearm felt like it was on fire.

I looked down, shocked to see words drawing themselves on my skin. At first, I couldn’t even read the writing that was forming of its own accord. The words weren’t in any language or script that I knew, but even as I watched, my mind and eyes made sense of the meaning, the letters swirling as I learned impossibly fast how to read this alien language.

Mannequin: Level 0 (unowned)

That made no sense, of course. Why did I now have a strange tattoo on my inner forearm? And where was I?

I seemed to be in some kind of well-manicured parkland, a cobbled path made of silvery pink stones beneath my feet. Green lawns and ornate shrubbery stretched out almost as far as the eye could see. This was not my local park where I had been planning to spend the afternoon reading a novel. As I spun around on my heels, I saw the cast iron archway I had just walked through dissolving into a mist.

Behind it, before I could even think to run heedlessly back through the vanishing archway, the street disappeared too, leaving me surrounded by this unknown parkland on all sides. Even the trees and bushes seemed to be unknown varieties, the long green leaves and tightly curled flowers that caught in the wind resembling nothing I had ever seen before.

I don’t how long I stood there, simply looking around me in bewilderment. I was utterly confused, waiting for my street, my suburb, my city to reappear.

The tattoo on my forearm itched as if healing at a monstrous rate. I rubbed at it, grouching to myself as it hurt like a healing wound.

Mannequin: Level 0 (unowned)

I wasn’t a mannequin. A friend of mine had become a professional model but I knew that I wasn’t even pretty. Suddenly, I pulled my sleeve down over the tattoo. I didn’t want to think about it and anyway I had other things to worry about.

Where was I? Why was I here? What had the power to put that writing on my skin?

Mannequin: Level 0 (unowned)

It didn’t help that I kept imagining I could hear voices in my head.

I’m going to help you find a cute one. All the girls in Rydon parklands are hot, you’ve just got to pick the one you want.

I heard there’s a wave of new arrivals due today. I can’t wait to own my very own girl!

You’re going to love training the girl you pick. It’s the best thing about being a pilot. We’re so lucky.

What about this one? She looks pretty. Confused but pretty.

God, that’s an ugly sack she’s wearing!

The words swirled around me, the speakers invisible, and I wondered if I was going mad. I listened harder, the words seeming to crystallise into two voices. Somehow, I couldn’t help but think they were talking about me.

Sure she’s cute but I don’t want to choose too fast. I’m going to look around. What if there’s a prettier one?

The guide I’m following says we should pick them quickly once they come through the portal.

Don’t tell me what to do! The people who wrote that guide have their own agenda, you know that, don’t you?

Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. The guide says you need to grab one before she starts to level up of her own accord. They’re easier to imprint that way.

I don’t want to follow a guide. We’re the masters here, aren’t we? We can do what we want. And I want a brunette anyway. Blondes are so last century!

Well, maybe I’ll pick her if you don’t want her. She’s prettier than the last few we checked out. And I want to start playing already!

I saw her first. I get dibs.

You don’t even know if you want her, you can’t call dibs!

I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, shaking my head, as if that would dislodge the voices. The speakers were male, I was pretty sure about that, but they also weren’t anywhere near me. The parkland looked empty as far as my eyes could see.

I shuddered, wondering if I was imagining it. Maybe I was imagining everything: the weird tattoo prickling on my arm, the voices, this odd park I was in. Or maybe there was a simple explanation. Maybe someone had just left their phone nearby and it was playing a podcast or something.

What about this one? She’s pretty too.

Yeah, and she’s got big tits too! Look at them bounce!

Yeah, I want her. How do I use this thing again?

Just hook and reel her in! She won’t resist.

The voices were further away now and I took a tentative step in a direction that seemed even further away from them, and then a second and a third step. I was not interested in standing in the vicinity of guys talking about girls like that, even if I couldn’t see them and had no actual evidence that they even existed.

It felt good to move. Actually, it felt good to make a decision. I didn’t know where the hell I was but I would find out, and then I would make my way back home.

My mood rose as the voices faded. I thought I spied a building in the distance and I walked in that direction — surely there would be some kind of authorities there, someone who could explain how I had landed in this odd park that I didn’t even know was in my city? Once I saw another woman walking in the distance but she was heading away from me and soon she vanished around a corner and I lost her.

She was blonde, taller than me, I thought, with a full figure. I remembered the eerie voices again.

She’s got big tits! Look at them bounce! I want her. How do I use this thing again?

Just hook and reel her in!

I kept walking, faster now, feeling scared. The voices didn’t return and I didn’t see another soul.

Probably ten minutes passed and the building was finally getting close. It was oddly modern-looking, built of large, square silver bricks and blue-tinted glass. I was getting more and more puzzled — this park was huge and I was sure I should have recognised that distinctive building by now.

My vague theory that I had simply walked into a part of my local park that I didn’t know was quickly fading.

Where was I?

‘Aha. Found you!’

It was a new voice and I spun around, jackknifing instinctively away from where the voice seemed to emerge. I was too slow, because even as I tried to flee, I could feel something piercing my skin, sinking into me. I shrieked as I felt it grabbing me.

I couldn’t see the attack, just as I couldn’t see the man’s voice or the owners of the voices earlier. I wasn’t injured, not physically at least, but something that felt like a hook was settling into me, dissolving into my body and yet holding me fast.

It made no sense but I could feel it holding me still for him.

‘I caught you,’ the man said with satisfaction as I gasped, eyes wide. I had never felt anything like this total body penetration before — it was like a net or a wire that held me firmly in place even as it mapped my body, sinking deeper and deeper into me.

Was this what it felt like to be a fish captured on a fishhook? If so, I was never eating seafood again.

‘I saw you before,’ the man continued, ‘but those juvenile idiots couldn’t make up their minds and then you wandered away. Clever little girl, aren’t you? Well, I’ve got you now.’

He sounded amused as he plied his fishing line with what seemed like ease, reeling me in. The sense of something piercing, invading my body increased — tiny, invisible hooks seeming to sink into all parts of my body, holding me still.

My forearm was burning again and I gasped as I glanced down. I had pulled my sleeves back up at some point while I walked — the day was hot — and I could see the tattoo morphing and changing, a second line forming below the existing line.

Mannequin: Level 0 Owner: Garvan Excelsior.

And then, even as I watched, it changed again.

Mannequin: Level 1 Owner: Garvan Excelsior.

‘Who are you?’ I gasped, my voice croaky. I felt… different. As that ‘level 0’ changed to ‘level 1’, I could feel myself growing more real, more solid. As if I had just become more strongly a part of this world.

‘Never you mind,’ the man replied. He was definitely older and more mature than the men from earlier, I decided. ‘I’ve caught you and I’ll be piloting you from now on. What’s your name?’

‘Alia,’ I said, wondering why I bothered answering his questions. I was looking around me, still trying to work where he was. ‘Who are you? Are you Garvan? And what do you mean ‘piloting’?’

‘You’ll find out,’ he smirked again, his voice somehow appearing in my head without me hearing a sound. ‘Alia, huh? That’s a bit of a mouthful. I reckon I’ll just call you Allie for now.’

‘Don’t you dare!’ I gritted my teeth. I hate pretty much all shorter versions of my name but ‘Allie’ is probably my least favourite.

The man laughed softly and I flushed red hot. ‘I’ll call my own mannequin what I like, Allie,’ he informed me, still not bothering to explain anything to me. ‘Most blokes don’t even give their dolls names. Now let me look at you. Turn around. Look up, girl. Yes, just like that. Now, keep turning. I want to see all of you.’

I obeyed, hating him, hating how I could somehow feel him looking at me even though he wasn’t here and shouldn’t be able to see me. The invisible wires inside me turned me around for him even as I tried to slow myself down or even stop.

‘Let me zoom in,’ the man murmured, clearly speaking to himself more than me. I knew without him even telling me that he was checking out my breasts specifically. ‘Nice tits,’ he murmured and I blushed hotly to know I had been right. ‘Those other blokes were idiots to pass you over. Don’t they know you can change hair colour if you don’t like it? Get walking now, like a good girl.’

I shuddered but I couldn’t stop myself from starting to walk again as the invisible wires prompted me to move. The man was propelling me somehow, telling my body how to behave. I walked under the shade of the nearby trees, following the path towards the building. It was only a couple of hundred metres away now but the fact that this man was forcing me to go there suddenly made me want to run in the opposite direction.

‘What… What are you doing?’ I asked. ‘How are you controlling me like this? I want you to stop! Let me go!’

The man just chuckled softly under his breath, and I knew he wasn’t going to answer me. I reached the building, starting unwillingly to climb broad, paved steps up to a set of double glass doors. As I walked, I could feel that same flush of odd energy I had felt before.

I was strengthening again, somehow the simple process of walking here — or, worse, the process of letting him pilot me — was changing me, morphing me into something else. The sensations crested, making me gasp and stumble, almost falling to my knees on the pavement.

Just like that, I felt my forearm burning again.

I looked at it unwillingly, already knowing what it would say.

Mannequin: Level 2; Owner: Garvan Excelsior, it informed me smugly.

‘What is a mannequin?’ I asked, already knowing the man wouldn’t answer unless he wanted to.

‘You level up quickly once you get claimed,’ the man informed me, predictably ignoring my question. ‘When you wandered off, I was worried you were going to level without me. Girls who level while unowned are never quite as good. But I got to you in time and I’ll be able to shape every part of you,’ he finished with satisfaction.

‘What do you mean?’ I asked, feeling almost desperate. ‘Where am I? What is this place?’

‘You’ll learn soon enough,’ the man replied, clearly indifferent to my need for knowledge. ‘Go into the building now. I want to start playing.’

Please follow me for more stories! In the real world, remember to always play safely and practise positive, informed and enthusiastic consent that is respectful of all genders.

Do you enjoy non-consent and mind control erotica?

You might enjoy my Company Dolls stories.

Sarah is looking forward to her new job – that is, until her new boss, Mr Cornelius Arden, mind controls her to be the company fucktoy, ‘Seagull’. Get your copy of A Girl Called Seagull on All These Roadworks or Smashwords.

Chapter 1 of ‘A Girl Called Seagull’ is here!

Vanessa, a down-on-her-luck private eye, is trapped between equally sinister forces. Used by the ruthless Dr Garnet Stein and her sidekick Boulder as a fucktoy and slave, she is forced to spy on Mr Cornelius Arden. Vanessa loathes Garnet and Boulder, and soon becomes obsessed with the enigmatic Mr Arden… Get your copy of Vanessa’s Fall and its sequel Vanessa’s Sacrifice at All These Roadworks!

Chapter 1 of ‘Vanessa’s Fall’ is here!

It’s not a manifesto

I write a lot of M/f non-consent erotica, including enslavement of women, degradation and forced breeding. They are not an expression of how the world should be. Everything I write should stay in the hot world of fiction and play. It should absolutely not become part of the real world.

© Pixie Isobella