Pixie Isobella

‘You level up quickly once you get claimed,’ Garvan informed me. ‘You’re mine now and I’ll be able to shape every part of you. Go into the building now. I want to start playing.’

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 2

[Alia’s Grace contains non-consent erotica, mind control, bimbo training and female submission. All characters are over 18. Chapter 1 of ‘Alia’s Grace’ is here.]

‘You’ll learn soon enough,’ the man piloting me said with satisfaction. ‘Go into the building now. I want to start playing.’

I stumbled into the building in front of me. I felt scared but also detached somehow. I knew I should feel even more scared.

I didn’t think I was in my city anymore.

This place didn’t look like anything I had ever seen before. It was futuristic and ancient at the same time. The trees outside were old, I could recognise a 400 year old tree when I saw one, and the foundations on this building were built of an old, faded stone — while the building and its furnishings were modern, almost looking like something from a sci-fi movie.

The climate wasn’t even the same as my city.

Garvan — I had decided that was his name — ‘piloted’ me up a corridor and I resisted him every step of the way.

He laughed softly under his breath.

‘I can feel what you’re doing, Allie,’ he informed me, a smirk in his voice. I flushed angrily, wishing I could rip whatever power he had to control me right out of my flesh. ‘But now the tether has gone in, I just have to press this button and you’ll do whatever I tell you,’ he chuckled. ‘The only decision is where I send you.’

‘My name isn’t Allie,’ I said softly.

‘I’ll call you what I want,’ he replied, steering me with unerring accuracy towards what looked like a reception desk. ‘We’ll get you registered in no time,’ he continued. ‘Most blokes call their girls something tacky like ‘Big Tits’ or ‘Fuck Face’. Be thankful I’m giving you a name at all and don’t complain.’

I resisted the urge to yell at him as I approached the desk. Two other girls were standing there looking as shocked as me — one was the blonde I had seen from a distance earlier and the other had sandy straight hair and blue eyes.

‘Do you know what’s happening?’ I asked as I approached. ‘Where are we? What is this? How do we get back home?’

The blonde girl shook her head and the other shrugged, looking as bewildered and uncomfortable as me.

‘Go talk to the receptionist,’ Garvan ordered me and, powerless to resist him, I obeyed, walking past the girls. As I passed them, I could hear the men from before talking again, not directly into me like Garvan did, but their voices swirling around in the air again as if they were here with us, just invisible.

Look, some bloke got that girl we were looking at. She’s still not bad.

Heh, I like my blondie. That’s what I’m going to call her, I reckon. Blondie. You like that, don’t you, love?

You’re going to have to train her hard or she won’t level. You shouldn’t have picked a doll who already had levels. Now, my Sweet Tits here is going to be a good girl, aren’t you, darling? She’s going to do everything I say.

Don’t tell me what to do. And Blondie will do exactly what I tell her.

I shivered as I heard them behind me, thankful all of a sudden that I didn’t have to put up with those voices around me all the time. Garvan was a jerk but at least he didn’t have a buddy to argue with.

The receptionist smiled at me, the almost-genuine smile of a person who is told to smile for a living. I wondered if she was being piloted like me.

‘Talk to her,’ Garven said, ordering me.

‘Hello,’ I said. ‘Where am I?’ I said quickly. ‘Why am I here? Can you help free me?’

‘Thank you for enrolling,’ the woman spoke, ignoring me completely. ‘Welcome, Garvan Excelsior! Welcome, Mannequin Level 2 owned by Garvan Excelsior! Welcome to Rydon Academy! Mr Excelsior, would you like to complete the tutorial missions with this mannequin?’

‘Nah,’ Garvan said, overriding my attempt to ask further questions. ‘You’ll talk when I let you talk, Allie,’ he told me. ‘I’m an old hand at this game,’ he chuckled. ‘You’re my fifteenth doll,’ he added. ‘Would you believe it that I haven’t actually owned a brunette before? I’m going to have a lot fun with you, Allie.’

‘Well, I’m not an old hand and I’m not a trophy,’ I said but no-one was listening to me. ‘I want to go home!’

‘Tutorial sessions skipped!’ the receptionist smiled at me. ‘Remember, you can always return here to complete them at any time. Would you also like to skip character creation and proceed directly to exploration?’ the woman asked. ‘You have approximately two hours remaining of play time before evening. Remember that until graduation, all mannequins need to be in their dormitories by nightfall.’

Garvan paused and I could feel his fingers hovering above his controls as he considered his options.

‘Send me to character creation,’ he said eventually. ‘I’ve got some mods in mind and I want to get her started early. Then we might run a quick task simulation — I want my mannequin to start learning new skills as quickly as possible.’

‘Of course, Mr Excelsior,’ the woman said. She nodded to dismiss me. ‘Registration is complete! Character creation is just up the corridor, your mannequin can’t miss it. Welcome again to Rydon, work hard and enjoy your stay!’

Feeling faint, I let Garvan propel me away from the counter, directing me easily to walk up the corridor. Just as the receptionist had declared registration was complete, I had felt myself ‘leveling up’ again. I still felt dizzy from the now-familiar surge of energy that had flooded through me. My forearm was burning like crazy.

Mannequin: Level 3
Owner: Garvan Excelsior

I couldn’t bear to look at that blunt word ‘owner’ emblazoned on my arm. He wasn’t my owner. He wasn’t!

I could see where I was heading to — the big door at the end of the corridor had ‘character creation’ emblazoned across above it in neon. Far too soon, I was stepping inside, looking around the room anxiously to find what looked like a changing room with mirrors and make-up tables and a big wardrobe fitted all along one wall.

‘You’ll have to wear the basic uniform until I unlock something better,’ Garvan grunted as the door slid shut behind me. ‘If I wanted to spend real money on you, I could get you something pretty now. But let’s wait and see if you’re worth it. Strip off now, love,’ he said. ‘Let’s get you out of that boring sack you’re wearing and into some real clothes.’

I could almost imagine him seating himself back into his chair, getting ready to see me naked.

‘What?’ I almost shrieked. ‘I’m not stripping for you!’

‘Of course you are, love,’ he said, unperturbed. ‘Don’t be slower than you have to be. You’re learning how this works. While I’m piloting you, I can do what I want to you.’

‘That’s horrible!’ I said. I wanted to clutch my arms around myself and wail.

‘Stop complaining,’ Garvan chuckled, clearly amused at my reaction. ‘This happens to every woman of the mannequin class that comes through the portals — here at Rydon and at the other academies. And I’m going to be a good master to you, as far as masters go.’

‘You’re horrible,’ I said again, gritting my teeth.

‘Heh,’ he grunted. ‘Have a look over there to your left.’

I turned, somewhat unwillingly, to look where he indicated. Through a glass partition, I could see another change room just like mine, this one with the two girls from near reception, the girls whose pilots had humiliatingly called Blondie and Sweet Tits.

I couldn’t hear anything through the glass, thank goodness, but as I watched, Blondie brought her hand up to slap her own face, hard. Sweet Tits was jumping on the spot and with some instinct I guessed her pilot was forcing her to do that so he could watch her now-naked boobs bouncing in the air.

‘You see?’ Garvan asked inside my head, still sounding amused. While we watched, Blondie used her other hand to slap her face from the other direction. ‘I did all of that to my first girl as well, of course,’ he added. ‘I can do it to you if you still don’t believe me. I can do what I want to you, Allie, so why don’t you stop complaining? And pay attention to my simple requests,’ he said firmly.

‘I don’t understand why I’m here and you won’t explain it to me,’ I snapped, watching horrified into the other change room.

The two girls were facing each other now, each of them forced to jump on the spot and simultaneously try to slap the other girl’s breasts in some kind of callous game that I knew would be pleasing their ‘pilots’.

‘You’ll find out why you’re here sooner or later,’ Garvan sounded bored. ‘You’re wasting my playing time. Strip for me darling, before I walk you next door and give one of those blokes temporary control of you. Don’t think I won’t do it.’

My blood ran cold at the thought.

‘I don’t want to,’ I muttered but I was already obeying him. I kicked off my shoes and socks, before pulling my hoodie over my head, quickly followed by my t-shirt, and then, horrifyingly, I was stripping off my jeans, my bra and my panties. Garvan, my invisible ‘pilot’, watched everything, I could feel him spinning his viewpoint around me as I stripped.

‘Nice work, Allie,’ he said eventually when I was standing fully naked, my face flaming hot with embarrassment. ‘You’ll wear what I tell you to wear from now on, like all the girls do. I’m a bit of a connoisseur of mannequin outfits. Your uniform should be in the cupboard in front of you.’

Still desperately embarrassed but determined to have some clothes on, I opened the cupboard and pulled out a set of clothes made out of a type of material I hadn’t seen before. It was cool and soft and I guessed it would be comfortable at least.

It didn’t take me long to ‘dress’, by which time I was starting to wonder if I’d rather be naked. The ‘basic uniform’, as Garvan called it, consisted of a set of crotchless, low cut panties and a soft, bizarrely supportive quartercup bra that didn’t cover my nipples.

The ‘uniform’ that I wore over the top of it was a simple figure-hugging crop top and pair of bike shorts. Except that the crop top was cut so low you could see my bra and my nipples, and the shorts were cut away around the groin, allowing anybody who looked closely to see my pussy and arse.

The colour was a tedious greeny-beige and, much as I hated this world, I was already hoping for a colour upgrade in my future.

In the other change room, I could see Blondie and Sweet Tits were also now dressed in the same uniforms.

‘As we complete missions, I’ll earn new outfits I can dress you in,’ Garvan explained to me. ‘If you please me and I see some cool ones in the store, I’ll buy them and have them sent to you too. I’m not a mean master.’

‘I want to cover up my breasts,’ I said. I did not like the sensation that I was a dress-up doll for his amusement. I was already feeling insanely exposed — unless I held my hands in front of my breasts or my crotch, my most private parts were fully on display.

‘Nonsense,’ Garvan chuckled. ‘You’re a mannequin, Allie,’ he added, still laughing. ‘You don’t cover up your breasts.’

‘I’m not a mannequin!’ I snapped at him. ‘I’m a person!’

‘Who said you weren’t a person?’ he chuckled again. ‘Damn, you’re a talkative one though!’

I could feel an odd tickling sensation along the invisible wires or strings that Garvan used to control me. It had started while I was dressing and as he kept talking, it continued, ebbing and flowing in waves.

‘What are you doing to me?’ I asked, forcing my hands down by my sides. I couldn’t walk around with my hands cupping my breasts, it was too ridiculous. But, uncovered, my breasts felt more naked than ever, my nipples hard and eager in the cool air.

‘I’m adjusting your stats,’ Garvan explained. ‘Your base stats are honestly pretty solid. I knew you were a good pick,’ he added. ‘Your stats will largely change as a result of the activities we do together — another reason I’m not letting you cover your tits,’ he chuckled. ‘You’re a decoration, my dear, and you need to learn to deal with it.’

He kept talking and I stayed silent, hating what he was saying but pleased he was finally explaining something — even if I still didn’t really understand.

‘While your actions — or rather, my actions as your pilot — will be the chief factor shaping your level ups, I’m also increasing the likelihood that you’ll grow in certain directions,’ he informed me. ‘Mannequins are already likely to grow bigger tits and improve in other feminine features as well, but I’m maximising your potential in that region. And I’m dialling back your combativeness and increasing your submission,’ he chuckled. ‘I like a girl who worships me and does what she’s told.’

‘What?’ I snapped, clenching my fists again. ‘I will never worship you!’

‘You will though,’ Garven responded unperturbed. ‘I’m an expert at this game and you’ve only just started playing,’ he added. ‘Plus, you forget that I’m in charge, Allie.’

‘I won’t,’ I muttered but I was feeling powerless. At least the tickling sensation under my skin was easing now, leading me to guess that Garvan had finalised whatever tinkering he was doing.

‘Now, let’s see how you go next time you level up,’ he said, his satisfaction evident. ‘You should get at least two levels, if not three, when I name you. That’s a big step, Allie.’

‘I’m Alia,’ I said but I knew he wasn’t listening to me.

‘I can re-name you once a month,’ he said. ‘So why don’t you try to please me? You don’t want a humiliating name you have to live with until I take pity on you and change it back, do you?’

As he talked, the skin above my right collarbone started to burn with the same heat as I was getting used to whenever my forearm tattoo changed itself. I watched in the mirror, seeing the word ‘Allie’ appear across my skin in bold type.

‘Being called ‘Allie’ is humiliating,’ I snapped, suddenly wanting to cry. ‘You can’t do that to me!’

‘I have done it, Allie,’ Garvan chuckled, emphasising the name. ‘Be nice, or I’ll re-name you something good next time. Like ‘dick pleaser’ or ‘face fuck’. Or ‘Garvan’s semen hole’. Or ‘Garvan’s slutty wet fuck canoe’,’ he continued, still sounding amused as I blushed hotter at the crude words. ‘I’ve owned lots of girls and I didn’t used to be as mature as I am today. I’ve used all those names, and more, from time to time.’

‘I’m a person,’ I said but I was struggling to speak because a stronger wave of energy than I had felt before was flooding through me. My forearm was burning, hot and painful, joining the burning sensation on my shoulder where the name ‘Allie’ was now tattooed into my skin, easily visible given my minimalist clothing.

I gasped, watching the words on my forearm morph in front of me.

Mannequin: Level 4

Mannequin: Level 5

Mannequin: Level 6

Mannequin: Level 7
Owner: Garvan Excelsior

The numbers blurred as they morphed and changed, my arm aching. The number finally settled at level 7 and I was gasping for air.

‘That’s what we like to see!’ Garvan sounded amazed and pleased, mostly with himself I guessed. He chuckled in my ear. ‘Four levels, just like that! That’s your new submission kicking in,’ he said. ‘Forcing you to take a name you dislike so much has had an effect. It’s always easier to train a mannequin to be compliant and respectful to her master,’ he added. ‘And I’m too old to want to train a brat. You’ll be a good girl for me, my darling.’

‘I won’t,’ I said through gritted teeth. ‘I refuse.’

I felt ill and faint. The burning pain in the tattoos was subsiding, only to be replaced by a new sensation, in my breasts and groin. My breasts ached with an odd stretching sensation and I knew instinctively, even though I had never felt this before, that they were growing, swelling, getting larger. My clit and cunt burned with an odd fire, a hot, aroused tingling. I knew that if I put my hand down there I would be wet and needy, and I hoped Garvan couldn’t tell.

‘Nice tits,’ he purred and I could feel him zooming in to look at my breasts up close.

I flushed miserably, forcing my hands to stay still, forcing myself not to react and try to cover myself. He would see me eventually. I couldn’t stand with my hands in front of my breasts forever.

And even if I did I cover them up, I would feel even worse when he inevitably forced me to display myself again. I had to just get used to it.

‘Your tits will get bigger again as we train you,’ Garvan informed me with satisfaction. ‘Put your shoes on, darling. Let’s run you through a test simulation, shall we?’

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.

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!

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