1 comments/ 46469 views/ 19 favorites The Bimbo Asylum Pt. 01 By: LincolnAndSunset Abstract: The brainwashing only works on four out of five women. The others have to stay at the Bimbo Asylum. * A new patient's screams from a padded cell next door woke Abigail. She sat-up in her white lacy bra and panties, turned her long legs out of the bed, and let her toes touch the cold floor. It was chilly and the Asylum didn't splurge on heat. She grabbed a pair of white stockings from a bedside table along with a garter belt with several dangling straps that tangled like her muddled mind, so desperate to think clearly. She reminded herself that she wasn't a real patient, that this wasn't a real insane asylum; and above all, before her mind eroded away, that she needed to stay focused and try her best to be a person determined to find a way out. Her weak but strengthening bimbo thoughts fought her constantly. As her hands pushed down into the stockings, she thought how a person, desperate to keep a deadly secret that could kill thousands, might consider using the silk to end it all. She stretched them. They could easily hold her weight, but contemplating such things touched an anxiety deep inside her, not because she feared death, but because it violated Asylum rules. Her messed-up priorities continued to battle inside her mind. "I have to focus on being the person I want to be and not a bimbo," she murmured. But oh, how she yearned to listen to the sexual thoughts and urges. She pulled the stockings up her legs, stood, tugged the garter belt over her wide hips and began the annoying task of securing each of six tiny garters to her stocking tops. She retold herself that she was a person who didn't want to wear such things, and that she only did so to lull her captors into complacency so she could escape. The notion that several failed bimbo treatments would leave anyone with even a tiny bit of independence amazed her. Surely the treatments would leave lingering damage to the mind. But here she was and she knew the role she so desperately needed to play today, assuming she could remember anything even an hour later. She tried to make herself angry. "Those fuckers!" she grunted. Did she feel it this time? No, it felt fake and forced. Instinctively, she wanted to give in and be clueless and happy. She resisted and vowed, "I'll escape before they try anymore bimbo treatments on me." That is what they did at the Asylum. They made women into bimbos, for a fee. She resisted her bimbo desires, and decided to play the part assigned her. It would be best to appear to be caving-in and weakening -- just a bit. The other women craved naughty clothes and were eager to prance around in high heels. She too would crave and prance, but still hold some hesitation in her heart. "Escape is the main goal." She covered her mouth afraid she might have said it too loudly. She thought herself smart before the treatments and, now, it was a struggle. "Yes," she said softly to herself. "I am a person resistant to treatment who wants to escape. Is that so hard to remember even for a day or two? Am I that stupid now?" She looked down at her subtle skin, so wonderful to stroke and touch. "Shit," she said imitating a frustrated exclamation that seemed appropriate. It was still a forced sounding cuss. She was now so screwed-up in the head and everyday she felt closer to being a lesbian slut just like all the others manufactured monthly at the Asylum. As she felt the silky cloth shift over her wonderfully smooth long legs, she almost lost a bit more of herself. "No, think: escape." Actresses in Hollywood negotiated deals against some of the most chauvinistic men in the world. Abigail at the Asylum would require mental acuity to emulate such women against scientists trying to erase her. She would act out her role and play it well. As she worked the garter clips, her feet fumbled about searching for a pair of white high-heeled pumps. She didn't bother to visually look for the shoes, they were down there somewhere. As she fixed her stockings, she swiped her stocking covered feet around probing for them. "Damn these clips," she mumbled. Her toes finally found the shoes. Her feet kicked them about and righted them, then pushed their way into the tight fitting pumps. She felt so much taller in the shoes. She straightened a garter strap and checked her flat tummy. She had lost a little weight. Hospital food always sucked. She stumbled over to where a white jacket sat discarded on the floor. The thick cloth had felt so coarse and rough, but kept her warm. More screams came from down the hallway. Another new patient, she thought, probably a newbie realizing that someone trusted, maybe loved, had paid for a mental wipe of memories or personality. But not everyone made it through the process quickly. Some could resist indefinitely. Abigail remembered many days spent in her cell tied down sometimes wearing a crushing a corset with padlocks. So many things were done to women here at the Asylum. Pleading with the staff never helped. They performed their duties with no issues turning women into bimbos, submissives, or walking-talking mental vegetable simpletons. Ignoring the loud cries for help, of which many more would follow on a typical day, Abigail pulled the long white sleeves of the jacket over her arms. She was cold and though the jacket was cut short leaving her midriff exposed, it was thick and added some protection. She felt the abrasive cotton material against her skin and noticed the iciness it held inside from sitting on the floor all night. Sleeping in it used to give her nightmares and she used those faded memories to be the person she needed to be. She pretended to still remember how she hated the way it only opened in the back and not the front like a normal jacket. For several nights now, she even flung it at the wall before sleeping -- still she didn't feel the real anger she should. It was absent. Right now though, she needed its warmth and hugged herself inside it. She stopped and let her arms drop to her sides when she realized the cross-armed posture was a pose she would be forced to hold most of the day. Why do it now when she could do something else? But it was so cold and what else in this empty room could she do? She returned to a warm self-hug. The action pulled the sleeves taunt forcing her arms in further and her hands down into their endlessness. There were no openings to shove her hands through. The ends were sewn closed. Straps dangled from her imprisoned fingertips. Like it or not, she was now ready and waiting for an attendant to open her padded cell door, enter, and secure her by pulling her arms across her chest and the sleeves behind her back. It would be any moment now and a fiend would grab her, afraid she would fight her brainwashing and try again to feel anger. She decided to give-up fighting this morning. The attendant would be surprised to see her just stand passively as he tied her straight jacket tight using several knots through several D-rings in the back. Then she would be left that way till dusk. She looked through the bars of her window into an empty courtyard four stories below. They promised to let her join the common population -- if she behaved, if she convinced them that she was ready to play along. It had been a month of solitary confinement spent fighting her bimbo side and struggling so hard to remember what she needed to do. It was so hard to resist their programming. What should she remember? What should she forget? What thoughts were hers? She knew they were waiting for her to become submissive. It would be a sign to them that she was ready. So passive is what they'll get and, hopefully, they'll let her out. At least then she could finally talk with fellow inmates and put what seemed to be a logical plan into motion. The idea of socializing with fellow bimbettes, so many pretty gorgeous inmates, brought back the distractions. Everyone was so beautiful and sexy. She sobbed and wiped her eyes against a straightjacket sleeve. The real instinctive desires to escape were gone, but, if she focused, she could still want and conspire and achieve. So maybe she couldn't truly feel the role required to escape, but she could fake-it and silently pretend to desire freedom. Inmates flooded the courtyard. Abigail knew that after a month of isolation, they would be suspicious and shun her. They would wonder what she told the guards. So many had little secrets and hidden stashes to make life bearable. She would be a loner for a while, which could help her cause. Loners got things done and related to each other. She saw the women inmates below. They looked so delicious and fuckable. "Fight it." ***** "Abie!" yelled Madison, a fellow inmate, running across the courtyard free of any straightjacket and social inhibitions. "They let you out. Did they answer all those questions you had? Wow, you really cursed up a storm when they dragged you off. It took three of them, especially when you started kicking. George, still doesn't walk straight. Watch-out for him. I think he's still angry. But all that was so long ago. I really, really missed you. None of the other inmates here will even talk to me. They think I'm crazy, like I ramble on or something, like I won't take a breath. See, I breathe. In. Out. Oh my, I'm feeling a little dizzy. But you, you were so friendly to me. I could always talk with you. How are you? Tell me everything. Let's catch-up. Wait! I could guess. Do you want me to guess? Oh goodie! Let's see..." During all this endless gregariousness, Abigail sat on a picnic table with her toes resting on an attached bench, the inside soles of her high heels locked against the bench's side. She had to remember her goals. She had to remember to be defiant. Maybe do small disrespectful things as reminders not to loose herself in the wonderful sexy clothing and the sultry looking bimbos around her. Yes, she'd wear the damn shoes -- she liked how she added the word 'damn' -- very authentic. Punishment from kicking them off would only waist time, but she didn't care if she scratched up their glossy white patent leather surfaces. She tugged at her straight jacket hating herself. Scratching her shoes had to be the lamest idea yet on how to be defiant. She noticed how her arms were pulled tight under her breasts, how her hands stayed glued to the sides of her rib cage, and how she couldn't even move her fingers inside the taunt sleeves. She looked around. The sun reached into the courtyard removing the morning's cold air. Inmates found their groups and claimed territories. They all wore white stockings and lacey bikini outfits. Only a few, like her, wore the additional mini-straightjackets -- which were easily undoable, but fear stopped that idea. No one would dare help anyone out of a jacket. The knots in the back could be so easily plucked free. There were no locks, no ratcheted plastic ties. But the cameras and the guards were all watching. She looked at the obliviously happy and talkative Madison. Why didn't she have to wear a fucking jacket over her subtle sexy pillowy breasts? Or better yet, a gag. Deep breath, Abigail thought, remember, you are an inmate who wants to escape. "Hi," said Abigail, her first word to anyone in a month. Madison rapidly clapped her hands at the verbal response. "I love talking with you. I feel like we have such a bond. Maybe it's because I get to empty out all the thoughts I've been building up that the other girls won't listen to. Oh, and I've tried the guards -- even the male guards -- they just seem to ignore me and talk amongst themselves. Some stare at my body of course. OK all of them do, that is to be expected, but they seem disappointed that I don't react to their orders like a trained dog. 'Get on your knees. Blow me.' I mean, is that all they think about is sex? They seem to think all the women here should be so submissive." She stopped, looked down at her chest, grabbed her boobs and adjusted them. She looked at Abigail and blinked her clueless eyes a couple times. Abigail studied the cameras, how the guards walked around, when the guards left and returned. That would be something an intelligent woman in her situation would do. She looked at her annoying staring stupid friend and just added another, "Hi." "So don't mind me," the bimbo continued. "I'm just going to stand and do some gleeful bouncing. You get merit points for being all happy and all visually pornographic and active and all." Her sudden rapid movements bounced her breasts even without the imaginary trampoline that she seemed to think was there. Abigail thought for a second. "Merits?" "Oh yeah." Madison said, while continuing to bounce. "They have a computer hooked up to all the cameras. It watches the video feed, it has some kind of face recognition system, body and walking-gate identification and tracking; and if you act naughty and provocative you rack-up points. The computer also assigns demerits if it catches you out of uniform or out of your shoes or fighting your clothes and such." The bimbo bounced faster. "Oh, you would be so proud of me. I'm up to three hundred this week!" "Shit! The bastards are using my stuff. I designed all that." "Nonsense. Why would you do that to us. You're too nice to go all evil scientist. Of course I barely remember what you or I used to do and, oh yeah, you hardly say anything, so maybe I never knew. I mean, I don't want to be rude, but you don't talk much. You know, your statement just now, that actually was the first real semantically complete sentence I ever heard you say..." Abigail winced. For a bimbo, Madison held onto the strangest bits of her humanity. A knowledgeable bimbo with a vocabulary was a bit of turn-on though. Abigail tried to focus again. "Madison, I wrote programs to detect and remove smut from video servers. They later hired me to write people tracking for security. What you described is them using all that to fuck us over." Madison stopped her little bouncing dance. "You don't have to get angry. Really, we're all in the same situation. I'm just trying to get enough points, so I can watch TV. I really, really miss TV. Although, I don't think I used to be into it so much, but what else can you do here while they try to figure out what to do with us. They injected me and probed me while you were in solitary, but for some reason I don't go all submissive like the others. That seems to frustrate and mystify them. The other women come and go and here I am. I've been here a whole year, or two, maybe three, but whatever. They even medically experimented on me. Maybe they wrote me off for other uses. My boobs are bigger. They got my thighs to grow longer. Did you know that long thighs mean you grew more during puberty and, therefore, are more sexual? That's why guys like long legs. I guess that's why they developed a procedure to lengthen the thighbone, you know, the femur. I think I used to be in biology some how..." "Damn it," said Abigail thinking to of her own problems. "That's why I'm here. They don't want anyone to know. Oh god, the last project. How could I be so stupid? They'll never let me leave." Abigail looked heartbroken. She had to force herself to really feel the heartbreak, because she so badly wanted to frolic with the others and just be wonderfully stupid and empty headed. Abigail confided in her bouncing friend, "I've got to find a way out of here. I need to tell the authorities." Madison came close, straddled Anigail's lap and sat giving her friend a gentle hug. "Abie, sweetie, don't give-up." The sympathetic bimbo ran her hands through Abie's hair and stared deep into the eyes. "You know, with me sitting on your lap like this, we're both probably racking up some major serious pointage right now. If we kiss, we could have dessert at diner tonight for sure." She moved her face in. "Madison! Get off!" The bimbo stayed, but stopped trying to kiss. "Come-on. We're basically sex objects here. Let's at least do the minimum to get some of the available swag. Kiss me." "Fine." They kissed. Why Madison had to switch it into a French kiss, Abigail didn't know nor appreciate, but Madison kept a good tight grip on the straightjacket straps in the back. The bimbo correctly assessed that Abigail would try to pull away fast. The two continued to kiss long and hard, several Mississippi's in Abigail's count, until Madison popped away and giggled. The bimbo looked around with pride. "There's certainly going to be TV tonight!" she exclaimed. "Oh, maybe even some new shows. I like 1980's TV shows. Don't know why. Maybe that's all they have, reruns, so they make us bimbos like that stuff. Or maybe I actually liked that before I came here." Her eyes went blank. "...Came here. Make me come here. Huh? I think I lost my train of, choo-choo train of -- What was I saying?" It was like Madison was trying to screw her mind up as fast as she could. Abigail's eyes squinted searching her friends face. Maybe giving into the brainwashing was Madison's choice, her way of mental suicide. When the wacko relaxed and leaned back with her hands still clasping behind Abigail's neck, Abigail turned away checking the guards. "Undo my straps," said Abigail. "I need out of this thing." "Don't be silly, you need a plan first." "Madison, you actually said something short and concise." "I have moments. Otherwise, I just have an endless flow of ideas. My mind just won't stop racing. You know, I think that's why they can't brainwash me, because when they try, I just start thinking so many thoughts in my head. Susan over there can't be programmed either, but I think that's because she's psychotic. Maybe it started when her husband died, but I think maybe they sent her to kill him and then brought her back and now they can't seem to change her mind for the next task. I don't know, but that is just a theory. He died in some sexual auto asphyxiation sex play, sex act, sex something or other, but she wasn't implicated or they couldn't..." "Maddie, Maddie, stop." This was the part Abigail had to get right. She had to cut through the desires begging her to sexually fuck everyone around her and be a person who wants out. Focus, she thought as she asked her friend, "Can you tell me who would be the best person here to help? You know, get things. Plan an escape?" "Oh, a jail break, a great escape, like the movie, tunnel digging, Shawshank posters. Oh, I love that genre. I've been watching it a lot on TV." Her eyes looked sideways setting her mind into a crafty sly mindset she hid from the brainwashing staff. Abigail's eyes widen. Holy crap, was Madison actually a genius mastermind incognito? Had she been watching the patterns, making plans, gathering intelligence, and waiting for the perfect accomplice to execute the perfect escape? Please choose me as your accomplice. It would make things so much easier. With focus, Abigail knew she could be that very accomplice. "Escape!" she yelled silently in her mind. Madison shifted her stocking legs across Abie's lap getting their bellies closer. With a tight squeeze, their chests pressed together. Their cleavages ascended to their throats. Abigail's senses perked-up into overdrive as her friend leaned forward to place a pair of lush lips next to her ear. With a whisper that would make Marilyn Monroe orgasm, Madison gravely said in earnest, "We'll use helicopters." ***** Madison may not be the sharpest tool in the shed with her delusions of a helicopter rescue, but she was loyal and, if reined-in periodically like a wild flying kite, she could actually provide useful information. The energized bimbo pulled on Abigail's straightjacket leading the way down a cement hallway with pipes overhead marking the path to the Asylum's laundry rooms. The Bimbo Asylum Pt. 01 The rambling started again. "There are hardly any cameras down here and the ones that were working were busted-up long ago by the laundry women. Most guards don't dare come down here and that's fine with them as long as the stockings are cleaned and the leaders, Brooklyn and Bronxie control the place. Guards really don't care. Also they won't venture down here, wait, I think I said that. But the two killer B's, Brooklyn and Bronxie, can make a guy in riot gear shit his pants. It's probably not the wisest thing we're doing, but if you want information, if you need something smuggled inside, and I really hope you have something to offer in trade, otherwise we're just skipping our way to a beat down lesbian rape, so please I hope you thought this through." Madison stopped pulling them further down the hall and paused silently. "We're good," said Abigail. "Thank goodness." They continued walking as Madison gabbed, "You know for a second there I actually worried, which is kind'a weird since that implies I was actually thinking for a moment about something requiring focus and concern or, maybe, worry itself is more of a subconscious thing -- you know, not so academic in logical and philosophical issues, unless of course you overthink things, which I used to do until I couldn't hold a thought in my head longer than a few seconds, which is what happened to me two or three or was it five years ago?" "Who the fuck are you two lacies? What are you doing down here?" asked a large woman, who could crush a man by flexing her biceps. Of course Madison with her gabby nature had no hesitation to point out such a detail to the evil Amazonian woman, "Wow, you clearly work-out or maybe you juice it, you know steroids, which are not good for anyone really -- with all the endless side effects..." The woman slapped Madison's guiding hand down from Abigail's shoulder, separating the two 'lacies.' "The side effects includes aggressive agitation, by the way," added Madison with a high pitch squeak at the end when she stopped. "We're here to see Bronxie and Brooklyn," said Abigail. "I want to trade." "Well it better not be little Miss Lacy here, because we already rejected her long ago." "No," answered Abie. "I have something you want, but I want computer access." The woman literally looked at the two 'lacies' sideways. "Alright, you know what will happen if this is bullshit though." Abigail nodded. Madison shook her head no. "Actually, I don't know what will happen," she said eagerly trotting behind everyone as they entered another long dark hallway. "In fact I really don't seem to know much of anything at all anymore, so if someone could fill me in a little as to why we're down here. Oh wait, I brought us down here. Shit, why would I do that? I tend to forget things after a while. Oh, by the way, there are these two really bitchy bitches down here. The last time I was here, Bronxie was all like, 'shut that bitch up' and I was like, 'who? I don't hear anyone.' And then Brooklyn just smacked me down so hard, of course, then I showed them what happens when you mess with an old timer like me. After all, I've been here two or three or is it six years? Man, this is a long tunnel. Anyway, I pointed out that before I got there, I blew a guard and told him that if he didn't see me in an hour for his second blowjob -- and I'm really good by the way -- that he should rescue me from the laundry room and he was like, 'sure,' he'd do anything for me, when he obviously meant he really loved my blowjobs. I'm really good by-the-way." Abigail and the butch woman paused to look at the talkative minx. "What?" asked Madison. "Brooklyn and Bronxie let me go right then and there. They profusely apologized, something about no disrespect, forgive us, let us know what we can do to help, especially when they found out the guard was Vinnie, then they really started to back peddle and back peddle they did as fucking fast as they could. No one fucks with me anymore, by-the-way, just say'in -- well, unless I initiate it, the fucking that is. Oh my, you don't think they were being nice only because they felt a teeny-weeny bit threatened, do you?" Abigail saw that Butch actually shuttered at the name Vinnie. Was Madison, in her own unique zany way, a mastermind after all? The bimbo explained loudly to Abie, so Butch could overhear, "Vinnie's the worst of the guards and so happens I just blew him again this morning." The fast talker turned to the, technically through genetics only, female laundry hench 'woman.' "So little miss butch here, who's the lacy pansy vulnerable pathetic weak ass bitch now? Huh?" The bimbo did a high-handed point down to herself. "You want a piece of this? I like to do both men and women by the way. I think that makes me bi, but of course, I'll do someone like you too. Well maybe -- maybe not. I think I'll just stick with men and women." A long stare followed with two blinks. Butch almost smacked Madison, but hesitated. "I think she's serious about the Vinnie thing," said Abie quickly taking a protective position in front of her wordy friend. "Stop!" yelled Brooklyn entering the loud machine room from a metal staircase landing above. "Do not touch her. She's more dangerous than she looks." "Oh crap, not her again," said Bronxie, following behind as the two descended the stairs. The two gang women stood in their black corsets, panties and stockings. They had non-white colored lingerie smuggled inside and wore them to stand out and project authority, in a Bimbo Asylum warped way of thinking. Things had a different priority in this world and the guards were happy to help in certain circumstances like this. Abie realized that pictures were probably involved. "I want a computer," said Abigail. "Yeah, well I want a helicopter," said Brooklyn. Madison nudged Abie in the ribs. "See. Told ya." "Why would we want to risk everything to get you access?" asked Bronxie. "I want to see what they are up to here and in exchange, I can get the bimbo codes brainwashed into the short-term inmates." The two laundry leaders stayed quiet with a clear look questioning: was it possible? Madison looked around. "Holy crap, do you know what you could do with bimbo codes to the women that the bimbo treatment actually worked on, the ones who are only here a short time, the ones that are waiting to hear some magic phrase to make them entirely compliant to anyone uttering the codes secretly brainwashed into their little submissive tart heads, that don't include girls like us, because we're just too hard headed or something to be so easily jacked by Dr. Evil and his cohorts. Geeh, you could rule the Asylum from within and get sex and more sex and also have them smuggle things in, like TV shows. Oh my, that last part would be so valuable. The guards trust those bimbos so easily since they are so compliant and obedient and dutiful and docile and seemingly loyal. Those girls just come and go and come, and well, you know -- cum, and you could get them to bring stuff in and out and in and out and in -- and well you know what that's an innuendo for, nudge, nudge. Huh? Huh?" She paused. "Ok, I'm done now." She blinked. "Deal," said Bronxie and Brooklyn. "But for god's sake. Shut her up." Madison nodded several times. "Oh, sure. I'll shut-up. I can be very quiet when I want be. It's just that that doesn't happen very often, but it does happen and I do then get very hush-hush and just stand all quiet without saying a single word because I'm being quiet and silent and mute and speechless and mum and not talking or anything." Butch raised a hand, but Bronxie and Brooklyn made it clear that Madison was off limits. The laundry gang stepped back into the steam and shadows in the corners among the machines. A voice echoed out, "Tomorrow, you'll get a tablet with wi-fi." "Good," said Abigail. Madison looked around wide-eyed. "What? I'm being quiet. Didn't someone want me to be quiet, so that this deal could go through and it sounds like such a good and well balanced and well thought out deal where each side gets something beneficial and equitable like a fair bank loan, if there really is such a thing, because Biblically speaking usury is a sin, but here of course," the bimbo proudly added a double-quotes gesture, "use-her-ee -- geeh, I thought I had a pun there for a second or maybe I just lost my train of thought. I sometimes do do." She paused. "Do? Dues? Dew? What was I saying?" The two "lacies" returned to the open sunny courtyard. As the sunlight hit their faces, Madison's mind glazed over into a lost world of happiness, even more intense than normal for her. Abigail curiously watched her friend's change and then turned to see the cause. As her eyes adjusted and saw the site of sexy women prancing about, the reason was clear. It was hard to resist. Madison had quickly given in, but Abigail had to fight the voices, the many ditsy minded lustful thoughts. "You know," said Madison, basking in the glory of so many bimbos as if she had inhaled a hit from a large smoking doobie, held the distyness in her mind for as long as possible, and then exhaled her best thought, "we could totally land a helicopter in here. It's big enough." When the two reclaimed their picnic table, which Madison handled by simply approaching the occupying inmates, the rambling bimbo continued talking until she realized that she had to pay her insurance policy, Vinnie. That made her glum; until she remembered the merit points she could spend in exchange for TV privileges that night. That realization restored her giddiness again. She danced in front of a computer camera for more points before heading off to pay back Vinnie. Hanging out with Madison was an emotional roller coaster that didn't phase Abigail, who ignored it and struggled to remember that she had to be a computer hacker tomorrow when she got access. It would be tough to remember. She sat in the courtyard tied into her short straightjacket as she looked across the cracked asphalt. So many pretty women stood around inspiring her bimbo side. Hold it back, she argued. She knew that if she became horny, the only way to clear the bimbo fog would be sex. Masturbation wasn't allowed. None of the male guards turned her on at all, and she dreaded getting a blowjob from a woman. She cringed and pushed the urges down deep. Her bimbo side stayed quiet -- for now. "I'm going to stop those bastards if it's the last thing I do," she said, feeling proud because it came out like a person who really wanted to escape. But did she honestly feel it? It worried her. Would the bimbo side activate unexpectedly at the worst time? Would she look like an idiot with a computer tablet in front of her and not a single thought about what to type? In a corner of the courtyard, by a green door to security, Madison vigorously waved back, jiggling her breasts. Of course, she was rapidly moving her lips saying something endless. Shit, hopefully the bimbo didn't blow the whole game. "Please be too stupid to remember or too smart to talk," prayed Abie. That was certainly something a future want-to-be escapee would say. She felt a little pride again. Maybe she could control this bimbo brainwashing a little longer. She just needed some more precious time. Vinnie, the tallest and biggest of the guards, squinted back at the many women walking the yard. He gave Madison a gentle push and escorted the energetic bimbo behind the green door. The Bimbo Asylum Pt. 02 Abstract: The brainwashing only works on four out of five women. The others have to stay at the Bimbo Asylum. * "Come-on. Undo my straight jacket," said Abigail, surprised that Brooklyn, Bronxie and even Madison would be so afraid to undo the knots tied in back. After all the laundry area had no guards and no cameras. "Hello, I can't use the tablet unless you free my hands." "You don't understand, it's against the rules," said Bronxie. "You just stole a computer," said Abigail. "Yeah," said Brooklyn, "but some bimbo rules are harder to overcome." "Look," said Madison, "I'll do it, but I can only do it if I feel sexual while doing it. So I'll do it, if we do it, you know later, so you need to agree to do it or be a little frisky, which I know you really aren't into..." "Here," said Brooklyn, starting to untie the straps. "If it will make Maddie shut the fuck up." "Shoot, I would have done it," pouted Madison. Once free, Abigail began typing on the tablet's glass surface. "Their security is terrible." She madly typed some more. She didn't know how much time she had, not because of the guards, but due to her bimbo brainwashing waiting to take control. The other bimbos had no idea what flashed by on the screen and soon gave up watching. Madison, hating the conversational silence, asked, "So if you can get a computer, what other things can you get? Because you're gonna' want the codes for next month's round of patients too and so on and so on and..." "Shut-up," said Bronxie. "No wait, we got some good stuff," said Brooklyn. "We carve and assemble some things all the time. You know." "You mean like shivs, knives, weapons?" said Madison and before she could elaborate she was cut-off as Brooklyn snapped her fingers and a lesbian hoodlum disappeared into the clouds of steam to retrieve some samples. Even Abigail stopped for a moment to see. A laundry worker, in the standard white panties, bra, stockings and heels approached with a box. She opened it. Inside were several things made out of common household items: tooth brushes taped together with duck-tape, pens bent and twisted, spoons broken and molded. One item even had a motor from a kitchen mixer. "Ooo," said Madison. "What's in there?" asked Abigail. Madison pulled one of the items out. "Dildos. They're all dildos. One has a motor." "That's it!" said Abigail. "That's your illegal stash? That's what you spend your time making?" "Hey, this is good stuff," defended Brooklyn. As Abigail looked over the lingerie clad women, she felt a dread that a woman desperate to escape would feel, in fact she was gratified that she felt it so authentically. It pushed the bimbo out of her long enough to really worry about becoming one of these demented women. Without escape, her priorities would shift and she too would begin trading in something stupid and not even realize it. She got back to hacking the security system as she fought her bimbo thoughts trying to remember what she needed to do. An hour later, the two gang leaders were sitting in their black corsets smoking cigarettes. Madison was playing jacks by herself, duct tape applied to her mouth. "I got it," said Abigail. "You ready to write down some bimbo codes." "Sure," said Brooklyn, who started unlacing Bronxie's corset. The girls all gathered on the floor around Abigail. With Bronxie bare chested and standing on her knees, Brooklyn poised a Bic pen just under the breasts. "Ready." Abigail rambled off strange phrases like "chickens run backwards" and "please, doodle dandy." Each matched with a new patient-name. The Asylum admitted twelve new patients that month alone, and knowing the laundry girls, the new patients would soon be doing things they wouldn't remember. As Bronxie's corset cinched into place covering the codes, Abigail tightened Madison's straightjacket and then stuffed the tablet under the arms against Abie's ribcage. Even with the edge jamming up against her bra's underwires, the short jacket, that left too much midriff showing, couldn't quite hide the entire tablet; but unless someone looked under her folded arms, it would hopefully pass unnoticed. A computer was everything to a hacker, so a tablet would be something to hold close and stash in a good hiding place -- it was important to remember that. She moved her shoulders around. Yes, despite her bound arms, she felt confident that she'd be able to drop it loose and hide it in her bed before the attendant showed that night to undo her jacket. The women gabbed about future possibilities and when the two gang leaders left, Madison crawled over like a sexy kitten and nudged her head against Abigail's bound shoulders. Abigail responded in kind by using her teeth to pull the gagging duct tape off, revealing the lush, and unfortunately talkative lips. Everyone had forgotten the tape before strapping Abie back in. Intentional neglect was a strong possibility here. "Did you find what you were looking for?" asked the bimbo. "I mean you were working and typing and thinking..." She paused and changed the theme, "... and licking and tapping and fingering. Oooo, guess what I have in mind." Abigail stood. "They want to use my last project, but need the final program to deactivate it once its deployed, otherwise its worthless to them." "Huh?" "They have something I did, but need the rest." "Oh, those fuckers. By the way, I'm trying to be supportive in saying something bad about the people who seem to have..." The rambling continued as they walked up the sloping cement hallway from the underground machine room. Once they reached the courtyard sunlight, Madison stopped talking and adopted her clueless happy smile. The site of woman cavorting around in their lacy white lingerie had pulled the bimbo back into a world of love and lust. "Did I mention my helicopter plan?" said Madison, losing to her bimbo mind. It was clear the common grounds of the courtyard helped the process. Even Abigail's mind rode the wave with her friend, letting go of all worries and desperations. Anger and resentment became impossible. Thoughts of escape evaporated. So many women bounced and played and kissed and held and groped and licked and some even beckoned for the two wallflowers to join. "I can't fight it," said Abigail, tears filling her eyes. "I'm supposed to be angry that an employer did this to me, but I'm not." Maybe her disappointment in herself would bridge over to at least looking like she had been betrayed. Maybe method acting would help, using one bad thought to fake another. It didn't work. "Talk to me sweetie," said Madison, snapping back to reality for a moment, "what are you thinking?" Abigail gulped as her friend kindly wiped the tears away. "I have to focus," sobbed Abie. "I think my bimbo side is getting in the way of what I have to do. There are some things I need to say, but my mind wanders." "It's hard isn't it?" empathized Madison, staying so verbally concise. "I need to confess something terrible, or at least what a normal person would think is terrible, but right now, I just want kiss you." "We'll kiss later. Tell me, but hurry because I feel some major ditsyness about to hit my mind." "So you understand, I'm talking to the real you? You see, the thing I need to confess is that I wrote a virus for a nuclear power plant company, so that weaknesses could be found and protection schemes implemented. But I found out that they weren't with the power company. They wanted a controllable weapon. But I wouldn't tell them the other half, the way to disable it. That's my secret and the bastards sent me here to make me submissive enough to tell them, but I'm too strong, or at least that is what I tell myself." Abigail looked into Madison's eyes. Did the bimbo understand all that? And holy shit, did it really make sense for a hacker with such knowledge to tell this to a babbling idiot just because she showed some loving tenderness? "I understand," said Madison so sweetly and with a touch against the face so gentle it would send anyone into a dizzying haze. "I don't think I can hold out anymore," admitted Abie. "How do you hide in there? How do you stay you?" Abigail saw her friend wipe away a tear of her own now. It was true, the woman inside the bimbo was still there. But how? The treatments could break even the strongest woman eventually. They might be babbling idiots, but they would break. There was no hope for a thoughtful intelligent computer hacker staying sentient long enough to escape. How did Maddie hide herself? "I do understand," said Madison. "I can help you. I know you feel you did something really, really awful and bad and now you are fighting to keep a hold of your sanity as you are surrounded by insanity and, after all, we're in an insane asylum, well actually what the world thinks is one, but its really a bimbo asylum that..." Shit, Abigail heard only more rambling. She had wasted her time. Madison must have seen Abigail's disappointment. The babbling stopped. She focused again. "Come with me Abie. I have a secret to show you." ***** Madison pushed open a jammed door, shooting up years of dust. They entered an empty lab, now striped of equipment, but clearly at one time a major science facility. "It's over here," said Madison skipping her way like a child over to a light switch and using her fingernails to twist and pop the screws. "I hid my last few Bot Dots here, that is dots that make bots, as in mental robots, at least, the goal was to use them to control the enemy, but they made bimbos instead." "What are you talking about?" said Abigail, still in her straight jacket. The abandoned Asylum wing didn't feel safe and she still had a computer tablet stuffed under her jacket. The glass pressed against her skin just under her breasts. It felt kinky. Logical thoughts suddenly started to slip away. She was losing to more and more sexual thoughts again. She searched her mind and dug deep. Fear returned, a healthy fear, maybe of being discovered or maybe it was her bimbo side, which hated breaking the rules. But wherever the fear came from, she had to grab it and use it. Clarity and focus returned. She calmed herself and noticed the dust. There seemed to be too much and the windows, they were dirty, but in a smudged sort of way. She looked at Madison, who didn't seem to notice anything wrong. Was that good or bad? Her mind muddled again. Who was Abie supposed to be again? Being stupid seemed so sexy. Abigail pushed her bimbo thoughts aside; unintentionally discarding her paranoid worries of the empty wing and of capture and of any fleeting thoughts of betrayal. "I totally believe you were deceived," said Madison so oddly succinct. Maybe familiarity with the lab brought clarity. She quickly pulled some tiny pieces of paper from behind some wires hooked to a dangling light switch. "I was deceived too. I thought I was helping the CIA handle enemy spies. I developed the Bot Dot, but then I found it was all a corporate ruse. I wasn't a CIA agent at all. It was all a front. So I destroyed all my notes, everything except these last few dots, in case I needed them later. Then, as they tried to break down the door, I encrypted my mind by licking a Bot Dot while thinking of my bimbo code. This was my lab. Those were my TV posters over there." She paused with a fond happy sigh. "I watched late night reruns as I developed a way to brainwash the opposition spies into becoming double agents. It failed though. It only worked on women and made them act stupid almost immediately." Hanging on the wall, Tom Selleck in a Hawaiian shirt smiled back from some posters and calendars. Madison continued, "I knew something was up when my machine logged a run of several thousand Bot Dots. The very ones I reported as failures on the women test subjects. Why print so many? And then I found out, but it was too late. I couldn't escape and they would have tortured me for the secret. You're right, Abigail you'll need time to escape, so you'll need resistance to the treatments. You can do what I did, use a bimbo code to encrypt your mind. You can only have one code. So set it yourself and, of course, keep it a secret. It works best if it's something you obsess over, something really personal. Oh god, we have to hurry, I feel my bimbo voices kicking in. Anyway, I was a fat post-grad surrounded by beautiful test subjects being used for assignations and seductions. Yes, they were ditsy, but I was told the Bot Dots might still work. They wanted me to make them better. I knew I could do it. I was a CIA operative. I was 'Q' from James Bond." She stopped, pressed her back against the wall, and sank down to the floor in defeat. "But it was all a lie. I was so stupid. I had to act fast. They were going to take me, so I gave myself a complex bimbo code, not one phrase, but three different things: a feeling, an image and a number. I had to become a my own bimbo to not be under their control." Madison's eyes glazed over. Everyone treated at the Asylum knew the look. Madison's regrets led to sadness, which repelled her down into hiding her true self, letting the bimbo thoughts take over. "A helicopter could save me," said Madison, starting to caress her legs and bare midriff and lose herself in a sexual cloud. "Don't you go bimbo on me now," said Abigail. "I need to know what I can do." She sat on the dusty floor with her friend. She never felt love or lust for a woman. It wasn't her thing until the Asylum, and even then she resisted. But a bimbo's sexual urges made conscious thought impossible. The urges had to be purged. She kissed her friend. She had to pull her friend out of the fog. "Abie. Don't. I know you don't like it." Abigail kissed the tops of her friend's breast. The bra did so well at pushing the flesh up to present a soft horizontal tray of deep wonderful cleavage. "Abie," pleaded Madison, "you're sending me over the edge." "That's the idea. If you orgasm, you can think clearly. It's only temporary, but I need to know how you've resisted so long. And if I have to, I'm going to fuck your brains back into your head again and again. We'll do it all day if we have to." "Oh god, stop kissing me like that. Yes, I like it across the tummy and down to the thighs. Oh, the inner thighs. Yes. Now pull off my panties. Yes, use your teeth. I don't think I can help you out of your straightjacket right now. I hate having m panties get in the way. I'll help pop the garters. Hurry. I never thought you would do this so willingly. It's so, so hot to watch you do this. Oh no, don't look up at me so sexy like that. It's too much. I love those sultry eyes, so hot. Your eyes, with your dark eye shadow around them drive me crazy. Oh, yes let's snap those clips. I'd wear the panties on the outside, but you know the dress code. Pull the panties down to the knees. That's fine. No take them off. They're too restricting. Hurry. Panties under the garters is probably a rule to make us have to pop the clips. It's sexier and it so works. Oh Abie, I love you so much. Oh my god!" Madison covered her mouth with both hands, squeezing her boobs between her elbows, as Abigail pressed her tongue around the most sensitive edges and then flickered a bit before going inside. Abie's wet firm friction showed no signs of hesitation. "Oh, oh, Abie. You surprise me. You're ruthless. Are you doing this just to make me talk or are you doing this because we could be lovers?" Abigail looked right into her mad little friend's eyes. "Just hurry up and come. Would you like me to verbally scold you? Tell you how much of a bad girl you've been? Or a good girl? Do you want me to hold your wrists down?" She cringed realizing her bound arms made that last offer impossible, but it was best to just continue. "This is the time to tell me what you like." She returned to kissing the inner thighs of her befuddled and confused friend. Without use of her arms, Abigail had to lean a shoulder on her friend's thigh before getting her mouth into position. Despite the awkwardness, she kept going. There would be no excuses here. No straightjacket would stop her. "I want you to love me," begged Madison, running her fingers through the bobbing head of hair in her lap. "This won't satisfy me if you're just doing it for information. I want a lover and I'll come so hard. I promise." "Oh Maddie, I do love you so much. You know that. I'll fuck your brains in as much as you need." "I don't know if I'm too stupid. I think you really do care though. Maybe, you do love me. Everyone lies here. No, no. Don't go so fast. A bit slower, I want to enjoy it. I know what you're doing. I know you want me to orgasm so I'll think clearly. I love you Abie. I'll help. I don't care if it's true love or not. Just do me. Lick upwards and push down right around to the top. Yes. Do it again. That's my weak spot, right there. Yes. Again. Again. You're so good at this. It's like you've done this before. Oh god. I can't hold back." Abigail pressed her shoulders down on her friend's bucking legs. She pushed her face firmly against the crotch and twisted her tongue around forcing more shivers and spasms. Her friend's insides pulsed in a true deep resounding orgasm. A second peak hit quickly and vanished. As sanity pushed out from the clearing sexual fog, Madison's clueless eyes looked through her disheveled blonde hair. The eyes became direct and thoughtful. "Oh, that helped," said Madison, breathing heavily and hurrying to grab her thoughts before they disappeared again. She spoke fast. "So if you want more time to escape, lick one of these Bot Dots and set your own bimbo code. It can only be done once and that's why they can't control me. Hopefully one day, you can unlock yourself." "But they'll torture me for the code," said Abigail, pulling up the panties with her teeth and some help from Madison's hands. The bimbo lifted her butt off the floor as the panties pulled into place. With a snap of the panties around her waist, Madison struggled to answer, or at least she acted like there was a fight against her bimbo thoughts. Or maybe it was an honest hesitation to sharing so much knowledge. Abigail grunted in frustration. She stood on her knees. She wanted sex like her friend just had, good hard sex rolling across the dusty floor. She glanced around the lab and thought of the abandoned Asylum wing. Her bimbo friend ran this lab once and now was a prisoner in it. Escape was supposed to be the focus here and if her nut job friend knew a way to resist, a way to gain time, then that would be the thing to learn. Nothing else should matter. That was the role to play here. Fake it. Fight the bimbo thoughts! Act like a cold calculating prisoner! Do whatever it takes to escape! "Maddie, talk to me," said Abigail, nudging her face against her friend's head. If she had to, she would use her stocking feet to smack the girl. She didn't want to, but this was important. Madison smiled, maybe from a genius pride or, maybe, a warning to Hacker Abigail, who should be careful and suspicious. It was odd finding a large empty space in a guarded institution. Bimbo Abigail loved the idea of decorating it -- another useless thought for Hacker Abigail to discard. "Except for the bimbo aspects," said Madison, "Bot Dots create perfect agents. Under duress their minds erase. So no, they didn't torture me and they won't torture you. You see, they want our secrets. They want my Bot Dot formula. It defies analysis. I think they ran out or whatever formula they recreated probably isn't as good, so they want what's in my ditsy little head." "So I lick this dot and think of a password, a bimbo code?" "I went with a feeling as the first step. I chose something I thought I would never experience. At the time I wanted to make my mind permanently encrypted. I felt so guilty. I should have done myself in, but I couldn't. Instead I thought the impossible, only when I felt beautiful, big breasted, tall and blonde -- yeah, I had body issues about being short and fat -- then and only then, would the rest of my bimbo code work. I guess being around gorgeous test subjects didn't help my self esteem." The Bimbo Asylum Pt. 02 "Madison, look at yourself. They lengthened your legs for god's sake. You're blonde. You're full breasted. They made you look like a bimbo." "I don't know how they found out. I don't remember things too well. But so far the rest of my bimbo code has been secure. I mean I've been here for one, two, maybe eight years." "But how do you know they haven't already gotten the code from you? They might be printing millions of these Bot Dots. Maybe you're just a prisoner now." Madison's ditsy self disappeared with the most serious look she ever displayed. "They will never get the rest of my bimbo code, ever. I'll die before giving away my secret. And if you do this right, they'll never get yours." The wild crazy smile returned to her face. "Just lick the dot. Go-on, become a bimbo, a submissive wonderful bimbo. What could go wrong? I've been here one, two, maybe ten years. These are top notch Bot Dots that defy analyses. I am a genius you know." A pause followed and then two clueless blinks. Madison was slipping again. "Focus Maddie, please," begged Abigail. "I need you." "I'd recommend you choose a feeling, maybe a favorite childhood kitchen cooking smell or a holiday memory. I didn't do well at choosing an image and number. Mine are related, so think of an image and then a totally unrelated phrase. You'll be more secure than me and my over eating issues." She rubbed her flat perfect stomach regretting the hospital food diet. "I lost so much weight here." She then groped her legs, lifting one into the air. Who knew I could look so sexy?" "So lick, smell, image and phrase?" "Yeah, for example, I like TV shows. I watched them. Fantasized about them and you know what that means, nudge, nudge, huh, huh? I think that's a reference to another show, but I looked at my posters, my favorite." Madison started to ramble as she held up a sliver of paper with a black dot in the center. "Choose something you're really into, but you have to surrender and want to be a bimbo. You're resistant, so you have to want it. It's the only way. Do it. Come on. Hurry. Just do it." Abigail leaned forward a bit. She stuck out her tongue. Was this a good idea? She looked at Madison talking away, mad little Madison, so pretty and kind and nice. It was so easy to forget to think like a computer hacker with knowledge of a weaponizable computer virus. Such a person would have suspicions. Could she trust Madison? A hacker would wonder if this was all a ploy to make her give away the anti-virus code. How convenient that she had to lick a dot and submit herself to becoming a bimbo when no one else could force her. But her bimbo side screamed for her to lick. Each Asylum treatment left a warm orgasmic glow. It was the only joy in the process. "Go on. Do it," said the bimbo, who was the type of woman Abigail, the computer programmer, would soon become. "So," asked Abie cautiously, "think of things I know well or obsess over. You thought of an image and a number right?" "Yes, don't worry so much about those at first, but think the feeling first -- it helps the Bot Dot to soak into your resistant mind." That fact wasn't comforting. Abigail honestly felt terrified, like a real imprisoned hacker would. If she wasn't so concentrated on the situation, she would have been proud of herself for experiencing a sincere feeling. It was like she didn't need to act anymore or fight her bimbo side. She thought about TV shows, not really her thing. She looked at Madison's old lab posters. She remembered Madison's obsessive idea to escape. She pulled her face away from the Bot Dot, stood, and just starred across the room of smashed test tubes and empty cabinets. She let her mind process everything. "Hello, you didn't lick it yet, but you look like you did," said Madison waving her hands in front of Abigail's blank eyes. "Come on, we're out of time. Lick it." "Guards!" yelled Abigail. "What are you doing Abie? Shhhh!" "Guards! Guards!" A panel in a fake brick wall opened. Riot geared goons ran out. Vinnie strolled out. "What the fuck is this? Why did you stop?" Madison's eyes darted around the room. Her hands covered her face as her mouth entered motor mode. "We didn't do anything, so how could we stop this thing, since nothing was going on anyway and something wasn't when everything was and, I just don't know what we're all talking about..." Abigail smiled. "I know Madison's bimbo code." "What!" shrieked Madison. "What are you doing Abie?" "Madison's favorite TV show is Magnum P.I. It has a helicopter in it. And helicopters have numbers on the tail. That's the image and number. They're related." "Are you sure?" asked Vinnie. "Abie, no!" said Madison looking dazed as guards pushed her arms into a straightjacket and tightened the straps. She madly twisted her torso hopelessly trying to free herself. The guards held her around her bare midriff as her high-heeled feet wildly kicked around. Tears ran down her face. Abigail and Vinnie watched as guards dragged Madison away. The bimbo kept screaming "Abie!" as they pulled her down the hallway, her high heels scrapping the floor. A final scream of "No!" was cut-off with a slamming door. "Can you tighten my jacket?" asked Abigail to Vinnie. "Yeah sure," he answered, as he pulled down the computer tablet hidden against her chest, freeing it to hand to another guard. He began to tug harshly to snug up her arms. "You know I worried that all this fake dust and the smudged windows would give it all away, but she didn't seem to notice." The jacket cinched. She loved the jacket's feel and hated how she had to remind herself constantly that a kidnapped hacker would despise it and try to avoid it. Now she wouldn't need to remind herself to act like such a person. She could be her wonderful bimbo self again. "So I lived-up to my half. What about yours?" "Sure Abie, you'll get all the Jell-O you want, everyday from now on. Just like you negotiated." "Oh goodie, because I love, love, love, lu-uv, Jell-O. I like the slurp it, squish it with my tongue, swirl it -- so many things. Was I really truly totally convincing as a smart person? I had no idea what I was typing on that tablet. Thank god, they didn't know that though..." As Abigail rambled on, Vinnie escorted the Asylum bimbo to her padded cell.