The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Driving through the dark streets of Preston was a dirty, white, medium-sized freight van with the partially faded words “Decker & Son’s Transportation Co.” painted on the sides. Most anyone glancing at the derelict-looking vehicle would take it to be merely one of many broken-down scrap heaps operating in the city’s back streets and alleys, heading towards its next obscure job. However, the layers of grime and dirt were nothing but a façade to hide the true, sinister purpose of the vehicle.

Various advanced communications and stealth-technology evasion equipment installed into several parts of the vehicle allowed it to move in the city with minimal detection. If opposition were to present itself, the vehicle contained an assortment of offensive and defensive components capable of warding off numerous types of attacks and taking down almost any obstacle in its path. However, the most insidious threat posed by the truck were the people manning it, covert operatives of such lethal skill and devotion that many a military or intelligence organization would welcome them aboard. However, these were individuals who did not care for matters of world governments, which seemed to them to be trivial in comparison with what they considered their true callings in the service of the Goddess, including the utmost efficient execution of any task she assigned to them. While their work was dark in nature and they usually approached it with deadly earnestness, the current mood within the van was rather jovial and festive.

Sandra, commander of the squad, was poured into a pair of snug jeans that showcased her gorgeous rear, while her top half was garbed in a black leather vest over a tight, low scoop-necked white baby tee, which combination pressed her B-cup breasts together in an eye-catching show of cleavage and stopped three inches above her navel, exposing the flawless skin of her smooth, muscle-toned belly and an ornate belly-button ring, which served as a centerpiece for the fetching attraction that her slim but curvy body constituted. Sandra still had her short, lustrous, bob-cut black hair in her trademark raven-wing style, although she had now given it an overall feathered look, as well.

She had just sent off a message on her smartphone informing Regina that her mission was a success. Now, a minute later, she received a reply that put a pleasant smile on her angelic face, which message she shared with her crew.

“Listen up girls. Just got confirmation from the den mother that she’s ready for the drop-off. So, after that, it looks like we’ll be done for the evening and will have the rest of the night to ourselves.”

A resounding chorus of cheers echoed through the transport compartment of the van as the occupants celebrated both their mission’s success and their prospective free time. That is, some of the occupants celebrated, but not all, as certain others in the van were oblivious to the world surrounding them.

In the cargo hold stood four secured gurneys, two on each side, mounted one above the other on racks. Their unconscious occupants were completely oblivious to the mirth and celebration transpiring around them. They were four coeds from Preston University: Claire, Jessica, Meredith, and Monica, all stripped down to their undergarments with masks over their faces which fed the young women a mix of oxygen and a mild sedative that kept the coeds completely unaware of the sinister fate that would soon befall them.

Sandra observed the celebratory nature of her subordinates and took a small joy in seeing them in festive spirits. An element of her leadership style was to encourage camaraderie among the specialists in her team. She had always believed that one of the best ways to build teamwork was through parties and nights out on town with a lesbian tryst or two thrown into the mix. That and other facets of her approach made her somewhat of a maverick among her peers in Hecate’s Private Military Division, but her record spoke for itself. Sandra consistently executed her assignments successfully, her skills and results have proven to be every bit as good as those of the more rigid, militaristic commanders who ran operations parallel to hers.

However, Sandra was realistic about her ego and that of others. She neither allowed her success to inflate her head excessively nor did she tolerate slacking, understanding that everyone had to do their part, and her methods of enforcing proficiency were less than jovial.

While some might see her life as adventurous, it also came with its perils. Granted, kidnapping a bunch of sexy college students from their dorm wasn’t as dangerous as raiding a Mexican cartel’s drug lab and extracting their lead chemist, but it was still risky. Any mission that saw her whole crew come out unscathed and able to live to see the next day was a success in her books.

“Finally!”

Everyone’s attention turned to a husky male sitting at the back of the truck. The heavyset man looked to be in his early fifties and was composed of features that most would likely find unpleasant: a few strands of white hair combed over a glaring bald spot; a large, pockmarked nose that flared up to give an almost snout-like appearance; and one eye set higher than the other. He was dressed in a dirty white tee underneath grease-covered overalls, the numerous stains suggesting that the clothing might not have been cleaned since being purchased and that much the same thing could perhaps be said about the wearer himself. Within a few seconds, however, all observers saw the grimy fingers on his meaty left-hand reach into the folds of skin under his fat, bulbous chin and, as if in a scene straight from a horror flick, he began to tug and pull with all his might. His face contorted into a grimace as the skin began to stretch and flex in an inhuman way. The man stretched the facial skin several inches before it started to tear and, with one final pull, the visage flew off its underlying base. Soon, the image turned from horror into something comical.

Underneath the disgusting artificial face was the head of a woman, mostly encased in a black scuba hood. Small beads of sweat covered her face, highlighting her angelic facial features. She wore a small headset with a microphone protruding from the left side. Due to the suit, she was wearing, her head was very disproportional to the girth of the large body to which it was seemingly attached, creating a comical scene for those around her.

“Seriously,” exclaimed the new, infinitely more appealing visage, in a now-feminine voice, “when was the last time someone cleaned the fat suit? Goddess help me, it smells like a fucking yeast infection that was cleaned with a dirty diaper on a hot summer day. I thought we had a deal! Last person to use it has to clean it!”

However, her plight didn’t garner any sympathy from her comrades. Instead, she received stifled laughter and snickers as her comical appearance greatly devalued the seriousness of her rant about the cleanliness of the disguise she was wearing.

“So, Heather, any chance you could let us know how you seem to be an expert on what a yeast infection that’s been cleaned by a dirty diaper on a hot summer day smells like?” retorted Tanya, sitting across from her

Not in the mood to respond to her teammate’s heckling, Heather raised her arm encased in the foamy, chubby arm and flipped her the bird.

“Is that a promise?” replied Tanya in a mocking tone before blowing Heather a kiss

Heather’s glowering countenance exhibited her hostile reception of Tanya’s teases and the fact that having been stuck in a fat suit that smelled of unholy foulness for a good amount of time had soured her mood.

“Girls, do I need to separate you two?” Sandra stepped in, not wanting the otherwise-prevalent festive mood to be spoiled by the bickering of her two subordinates.

Both women turned their faces away from the other, not wanting to ruin the buoyant tone in the truck and thereby draw the ire of their commanding officer. Before the momentary silence could sullen the festive atmosphere, Sandra started a new conversation. “So…what’s everyone planning to do when we get back to base?”

“Well, me and Andrea plan on seeing a movie,” stated a brunette as she lovingly wrapped her left arm around a sexy, black-haired compatriot. “Everyone’s welcome to join us.”

“Going to pass,” Tanya responded. “Me and Hayley plan on hitting the new restaurant, the Bar None, that’s located downtown. There’s a cutie waitress we’ve been working over for the past few days,” Tanya added, with a grin on her face, “and I think tonight’s the night we finally get a little ménage à trois action.” She then turned to Heather. “What about you, Heather? I truly doubt you’re going to spend your night cleaning the fat suit. More than welcome to come along. We could use the extra partner. After all, the only thing more fun than a threesome is a foursome!” Tanya almost continued with a remark that Heather had better shower first if she wanted to come along, and use some strong perfume, too, but thought better about stirring up her colleague again needlessly with another attempt at wit—especially given her boss’s observant presence—and kept silent.

“Sorry, and thanks, but going to have to pass. I have something… umm… important that I have to take care of.”

“Really?” Andrea inquired. “Out of curiosity, does it have something to do with this?” The raven-haired beauty reached into her pocket and pulled out a black velvet ring box.

“What the?! How the hell did you get that?”

“Whoa, whoa, don’t freak out, Heather! I didn’t steal it from you or anything like that. You should be more careful. I saw it fall out of your pocket during the mission briefing. Lucky that I picked it up. So, I take it that it’s getting serious between you and Kristen?”

Embarrassed that she almost lost the ring she planned to use in her proposal, Heather just blushed.

“Look I didn’t mean to snap at you. I mean, sorry. It’s just… look Kristen and I have an open relationship and we both enjoy it, but lately, regardless of who we bring into our beds or whose bed we decide to sleep in, Kristen and I seem to always end up back in each other’s arms, when it’s all said and done, and...fuck it. Yes, it’s serious, okay? I plan to pop the question and ask my sister for her hand in marriage. It’s just... I’m nervous. Not sure how she’ll react.”

“Come on, Heather, I’m sure Kristen would love to be your blushing bride. Sure both of you will have a great honeymoon. But, next thing you know, you two will be sorting out photo albums, doing tax returns together, and hearing the pitter-patter of baby feet.”

“Whoa, that’s definitely the one thing I can assure all of you that’s not going to happen between us. Kristen and I aren’t the motherly types, and both of us don’t see kids in our futures.”

“Never say never, Heather,” interrupted Sandra. “How’s that song go again? Oh yeah, Heather and Kristen sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G, first comes love, second comes marriage, here comes Heather and Kristen pushing a baby carriage.”

Soon everyone followed Sandra’s lead and joined in her song to celebrate Heather’s good news. Heather just rolled her eyes and shook her head, having expecting nothing less than this kind of mirth.

“You girls are a bunch of assholes, but...you’re my assholes,” Heather said, followed by a small, playful grin.

Soon the camaraderie was interrupted by loud knocks heard coming from the front of the van.

“Alright, girls, we’re about to touch down at the drop-off,” Sandra shouted with glee. “Get prepped and the night is all yours, ladies!” She raised her hands in the air to celebrate the success of the mission and was hailed in return with a chorus of resounding whoops and hollers. Sandra conducted a few checks of her gear and of the unconscious girls as she and her team approached their final destination.

About five minutes later, they arrived at the Artemis Center, pulling into a downhill access driveway in the back, where Regina and a team of medical staff awaited them in the underground docking area. After backing up into a bay and parking, Sandra’s crew opened the back of the truck, some of them jumping out to prep the dock and the truck for unloading, and others attending to the cargo.

The team pulled a ramp out from a compartment in the bay and connected it to the truck’s back. With assistance from the medical staff, they detached each gurney from the truck’s walls and gently rolled each of the coeds out, one by one, toward her life-altering destination. While this was happening, Sandra made her way to Regina, came to attention, and gave her a rigid military salute, a habit from her days in the Army. To Sandra, her mission was not complete unless told so by her commanding officer.

“Operation Sleepover is a success and the guests have been delivered as requested, Ma’am.”

Regina’s facial expression suggested she was not highly impressed as Sandra stood at attention awaiting further orders. As Sandra was the best black-ops specialist she had under her employ, Regina knew that kidnapping a group of college coeds was child’s play for Sandra and her team and that coming back empty-handed would have been an unexpected result, not coming back with the complete group and without any hitches.

One thing Regina liked, however, about this interaction with Sandra, was that Sandra’s demeanor in this moment was that of a stern, stoic personality who took her assigned tasks seriously, instead of the playful manner which was much more common for her and which Regina found annoying. Regina’s preference would be to deal with this more sober version of Sandra on a regular basis, which persona was more compatible with Regina’s rigid, controlling, disciplined style of management. Nevertheless, knowing she would essentially thereby be giving Sandra leave to switch back to her normal saucier self, she reluctantly ordered, “At ease, Commander Kelley. I see you added another resounding success to your record.”

Sandra took a more relaxed stance and her trademark playful smile reappeared on her face. “Yeppers, Regina. Everything is complete and the girls are headed off towards Doc’s place for inspection.”

“I’m sure you have the mission debriefing you want to go over later tonight. Aside from that, any complications I should know about?”

Sandra just tilted her head looking upwards as she pondered. “There was one, but overall the whole operation was a success. I’ll discuss it with you when I see you in a few, Regina.”

Regina just gave her a nod, dismissing the chirpy commander and Sandra chased off after her team. As Regina went off towards her office, she caught sight of the semi-naked Claire being wheeled off on her gurney and felt a flicker of lust. Regina smiled inwardly as she contemplated how soon this pure young woman—with whom she had had the pleasure of spending an intense afternoon earlier in the day, and who, as a result of that dalliance, though she had been under hypnosis for most of it, was not nearly as untainted afterward as she had been before—would be completely corrupted and would become a devout lesbian follower of the Goddess.

Sometime later in the Artemis Center...

Regina was back in her elegant office, typing away at her desk, logging data into various spreadsheets and forms, occasionally stopping to take a sip from a cup of tea. When she had arrived at the Artemis Center earlier in the evening, Regina had changed into a form-fitting long-sleeved red cotton pullover blouse that accented the sensual curves of her chest and a pair of black wide-leg stretch pants that showed off her ass in stunning fashion, with her feet now planted in fashionable five-inch open-toe heels made of exquisite blood-red leather. The beauty had her rich, dark brown locks styled up in a bun, the golden streaks forming a striking spiral pattern in it.

A half-hour into her deskwork and the enjoyment of her tea, her attention shifted toward the door as she heard a knock on it.

“Come in.”

Walking in was Sandra, who, after delivering Claire and her roommates, had showered and then—with the specific intention of making herself look her sexy best for a chat with Regina—had applied cosmetics to herself. Her face had a light application of dark midnight purple mascara and a mild touch of rouge blush. Her luscious, playfully smiling lips and fingernails were painted with a dark wine-red color. She wore a dazzling aqua-green baby tee of clingy, shiny silk with a cream-colored butterfly silhouette pattern swirling on it. After roving over it lecherously, Regina’s gaze was slowly drawn to the purple hip-hugger pants and the well-toned legs and firm ass encased therein and with which Sandra strutted sultrily into her office. Regina’s eyes were drawn down to Sandra’s dainty feet, shod in a pair of beige four-inch-heeled, open-toed, platform sandals, her toenails matching her fingernails. Regina took notice, as well, of a pleasant fragrance emanating from the pretty raven-haired woman. It wasn’t her usual perfume brand and made Regina all the warier of Sandra’s pleasant appearance in her office.

Regina’s only reaction was to raise an eyebrow as the fetching, lithe beauty walked into her office. Though she was expecting Sandra, Regina had not particularly been expecting Sandra to come in a seductive mode like this. Regina knew by experience that most of the time when Sandra came on to her, a request would also usually follow, ranging anywhere from the mundane, such as more equipment for her squad, to the insanely absurd, like a wrestling pit full of nacho cheese in the cafeteria. So, Regina mentally prepared herself for some attempt at manipulation by Sandra. If she was lucky, Sandra would just ask for some kind of military equipment; but, based on Sandra’s appearance, as well as a feeling in the pit of her stomach, Regina had the premonition that this time it wasn’t going to be that simple.

“Hey, Regina.!” Sandra beamed in her cheerful tone as she waved hello. “How’s it going?”

Regina just gave Sandra an emotionless stare before addressing her. “Doing fine. So you mentioned that there was a complication in this mission that you wanted to discuss?” Regina hoped to keep this conversation short and sweet.

“Overall, it went as well as it could. Andrea had some concerns about the sexy Latina student, what’s-her-name. Seems her body was metabolizing the initial dosage too quickly and could have woken up from her nap earlier than we would have liked. So we had to up the dosage on the sedative mix, but the girl’s fine now. I just got back from Doc Monaghan’s office to check in on our lovely guests and she gave them an all-clear on the initial tests. By the way, she says, “Hi.”

Regina’s right eyelid twitched a moment when she heard Sandra mention Dr. Monaghan.

“However, I think our major concern should be with that campus security guy. We really should start to look for a new replacement for Jorge. When we touched down at the campus he talked about increasing his bribe by fifty percent. He started to imply that he might start asking questions the next time we visit the campus if we don’t comply with his request. Honestly, I think he’s overdue for retirement.”

“Fine. I’m sure you’re more than capable of handling the task. The old fool outlived his usefulness years ago. I’ll start the process of looking for his replacement starting the next quarter. What else do you have on the agenda.”

“Nothing much, but let me tell you about the cutest pair of shoes I saw…”

Right away, Regina’s facial expression feigned interest as she pretended to listen to Sandra yammer on about her day. With Sandra’s task done, there really wasn’t anything that needed to be discussed between the two. Regina could only hope that Sandra would get to whatever request she was going to make as quickly as possible and then just leave.

As Regina continued to look at the short-haired woman sitting in front of her, she began to take in Sandra’s physical beauty and become distracted by it. A small smile slowly formed on her face as she reminisced with pleasure about the sexual encounters she had had with the raven-haired beauty during their time together. Regina could feel her nipples begin to stiffen, accompanied by a pleasant and all too familiar tingling sensation between her legs. However, her journey down memory lane was short-lived.

“Hello. Earth to Regina,” Sandra said as she snapped her finger in front of Regina’s face.

“Are you there?” Regina snapped back to attention and again the emotionless mask common to Regina’s face returned.

“Of course, Sandra. You know that you always have my undivided attention.”

“No, I didn’t. You had that stupid smile on your face that you have whenever you fantasize about sex.”

“That may be so, but surely you can’t fault me for enjoying your beauty.”

“Hmphh!” Sandra pouted, crossing her arms across her chest and turning her face away from Regina. “I did have a surprise for you, but now I don’t know if I want to share it with you!”

Again Regina just feigned interest in hopes that it could get Sandra out the door quickly. She wasn’t in the mood tonight to deal with whatever surprise Sandra had in store for her.

“Sandra, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. You know that I would never purposefully do that to you. Look, it’s been a very long day for both of us. If you really have something that you want to share with me, then, by all means, please do so.”

“Alright, since it’s you. You know that I can never stay mad at you, Regina… So…I’m really not sure how to say this, but… Oh, God, look at me! So nervous, like a schoolgirl going to her first dance! Granted, I wasn’t nervous when I went to my first dance and it wasn’t all that bad, now that I think about it...”

“Sandra!”

Regina just pursed her lips and gave Sandra a quick nod along with a gesture of her left hand telling Sandra to get on with it.

“Oh, sorry, it’s just… well, Regina… I… I applied for the Head of Operations position at our Central European operations facility in Munich, Germany.”

There was a long silence between Sandra and Regina. Regina was expecting some kind of absurd or mundane request, but this was one of the few times that Regina had been truly caught off guard by one of Sandra’s surprises. Regina found her eyes wide open and her mouth agape, as her mind processed the words that Sandra had just said. However, this only lasted a few seconds, as the emotionless mask she normally wore on her face quickly returned to cover her shocked expression.

One of the most annoying people with whom she had had to endure working was set to remove herself from her life. Regina was severely tempted to pinch herself just to see if she was dreaming. However, she quickly regained her composure, not wanting to do anything that could change Sandra’s mind about taking on this new job prospect.

“I see… I will admit that I am surprised by your announcement, and I do want to say that this is a very big step for you, Sandra, but I do believe that you’re more than qualified for the job. If you need references or a letter of recommendation, I’m more than willing to provide it. Out of curiosity, do you know what your standing is with the other applicants?”

“Well… “ Sandra leaned in towards Regina and with a giddy whisper said, “I got the job already. Well, not officially. I finished my third interview two weeks ago and the recruiter told me she wanted me on board. Told me that I’ll receive the formal offer in the next week or two.”

Regina reigned in enough of her delight to permit but a small smile to appear on her face. However, inside she was screaming and leaping with joy.

“I’m saddened to see such a valuable member of my organization go, but who am I to hinder their progress…?”

“Wait. Before you go further, that’s not the surprise I have for you.”

Oh, my Goddess! Please tell me she didn’t turn the position down. Regina’s newfound joy dissipated and was quickly succeeded by a heavy weight in her gut.

“Regina, how long have we been partners? And by that, I mean how long have we been working here together?”

“I’m not sure how this relates to the situation at hand, and besides, you should know, since we both transferred here at the same time.”

“Which was four years ago, you from the New York office and me from LA.”

“Sandra, as much as I like to reminisce about the good old days, is there a point to this? I have a good deal on my plate at the moment, and, to be blunt, my patience is starting to wear thin,” snapped Regina.

Sandra flinched slightly at Regina’s reaction. She knew her partner enough to know how far she could really push it and she had hoped by slowly bringing up the events that led her here she could soften the blow of her next announcement. Sandra knew it was now or never and prayed to the Goddess that it would all work out in the end.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that you and I are a great team. You bring a definite efficient style and I go around knocking heads… with an occasional boot or two along the way. I do what I have to do to make sure everyone here complies with your orders, but, while I’m sure that when I arrive at the Munich office I can run it with no problems, I will never be able to match your efficiency.”

Regina did her best to crack a small smile as she listened to Sandra heap praise upon her. Any other day, Regina would have loved to hear it, but knowing that Sandra was trying to butter her up had Regina trying to mentally prepare herself for whatever surprise Sandra had in store for her.

“Yes, well, I can’t disagree with you there, but look it this way: You had the great pleasure of being under my tutelage and I’m sure you’ve picked up a few things here and there. I would love to help you, but unfortunately, I can’t come along with you.”

“Well….”

Sandra didn’t have to say anything as Regina quickly realized what Sandra’s surprise most likely was. All she could do was facepalm and, as her left hand slowly slide down her face, Regina gave Sandra a most disapproving look.

“Please tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.”

“No, Goddess, no! …….. Well…maybe…kind of…sort of…”

“Sandra, you have five seconds to explain yourself! If whatever excuse you pull out your ass doesn’t calm the murderous rage that I’m feeling all of a sudden, then I will put my hands around your throat and squeeze until your eyes pop out!”

“Please calm down a bit, Regina! First off, I would never apply for you for a position behind your back. It’s just that what happened kind of happened...indirectly…

“Look, it’s just that during the interview I talked so much about how big an influence you’ve been, how much I’ve learned from you, and how you turned this place around, that the recruiter was interested. She started to ask more questions about you. I guess I did a great job in building you up because the recruiter told me that she was interested in speaking to you about the position. She said she would most likely contact you in the next week or two to see if you’re interested in the possibility of taking the position.”

“Well, Sandra, I can assuredly tell you that I have no desire to take the position…” All of a sudden a confused look appeared on Regina’s face as she began to mentally backtrack and think over recent events. “Wait a minute. A few moments ago you told me that the position is yours. From what you just told me now it seems that you talked yourself out of the position—no surprise there—and it sounds like they don’t want you, but they do want me… What kind of craziness did you get me involved in?”

“I kind of… well, I mean… I told them that you and I are a package deal. That I wouldn’t take it unless you came along and that…” There was a long pause as Sandra mustered the strength to finish the sentence. “...and that you wouldn’t take it unless I got transferred also.”

There was a long, awkward silence as Regina sat in her chair, mentally digesting everything that Sandra had unloaded on her. Her mind furiously working to make sense of the situation, Regina observed Sandra avoiding eye contact, like a child caught red-handed. At length, Regina got up, went over to her liquor cabinet, took out a bottle of her favorite brand of whiskey, picked up a tumbler from the cabinet counter, looked at the bottle, turned her gaze back to the tumbler, and put the tumbler back down. She then took two big gulps directly from the bottle, before slamming it down on the cabinet counter.

Regina walked behind the silent, shaken Sandra and placed her hands on Sandra’s shoulders, feeling Sandra tense up as she did so. However, instead of choking Sandra to death—which at the moment seemed to Sandra might be Regina’s next move—Regina began a comforting massage. Gradually, she felt Sandra begin to relax.

Letting out a sigh, she breathed, “Sandra, Sandra, Sandra. What am I going to do with you?”

“Well, you could accept the position.”

“Sorry, but that’s not going to happen. I happen to enjoy the life I’ve built here and have no desire to start the process all over by transferring elsewhere.” One significant factor in Regina’s desire to stay put was her new pet, the fetching Miss Claire love-Livingston, whom she was in the middle of cultivating into a prized lesbian lover.

“Regina, look, I never meant for it to spiral out of control. It’s just… I really wanted this position and...Regina…I was hoping that…ever since I met you…I felt something…and as we worked together…I wanted something…well…something more than one-night stands and weekend romps. Regina…I want to confess something…but I could never figure out how to say it… Regina...I want you to know that I lo—”

Before Sandra could finish the declaration of her genuine feelings for her superior, the brunette beauty leaned to Sandra’s side, took the raven-haired beauty’s head in her hands to gently turn Sandra’s face toward her, and initiated a lustful kiss. Sandra was at first shocked by the spontaneous move; however, a few seconds later she relaxed as she felt Regina’s tongue slip between her lips and swirl inside her mouth. Sandra could taste the hard alcohol Regina had just consumed as she sent her own tongue out to dance and churn with Regina’s.

A few minutes later Regina disengaged and broke the passionate kiss, which left Sandra panting and yearning for more. Regina took Sandra’s hands and pulled her to her feet so that the two lovely, made-up women were standing and facing each other.

“I know that my dear, but you know that I’m not into long-lasting relationships.”

“Regina…” before she could finish, Regina placed her index finger on Sandra’s lush, dark-crimson lips. Gently pushing it into Sandra’s mouth, Regina felt Sandra’s tongue swirl erotically around her digit. Seductively moving it in and out of Sandra’s mouth, she watched as the shorter woman closed her eyes to better savor the experience.

As Regina continued finger fucking Sandra’s mouth for another minute, she walked around her prey, whose eyes were now half-shut, until she stood behind her. After slowly withdrawing her digit, she began to trace it down past her companion’s lips, over her throat, and around a breast, eventually stopping at the lower hem of Sandra’s baby tee.

Regina’s hand crept under the shirt and, with seductive grace, felt its way toward Sandra’s left breast, latched onto her nipple through her bra, and began to pinch it playfully. Sandra could only let out a hiss as she felt Regina play with one of her breasts. Trying to muster some strength to overcome the sensual pleasure she was feeling and get voice her concern out, she willed her hand on top of Regina’s hand to try to get her to stop.

“Regina, p… p…. please… Every time I want to have a serious talk about us, o-our rela-aaa-tionship… you always...ughhh!” Sanda couldn’t contain the sensual moan that escaped her lips as Regina insisted on continuing her lustful assault on her left tit.

“And yet, you never want me to stop,” Regina said with a smirk, as she then slipped in her free hand and soon had a lustful hold with both hands on Sandra’s gorgeous bosom.

Sandra squirmed as Regina’s hands began to play her like a fiddle and she knew Regina was right. Every time she did this, Sandra did nothing but play along as Regina built her up for yet another supreme orgasm. Despite her desire for a more serious relationship with Regina, deep down Sandra knew if she had to choose between this kind of pleasure and a deep and lasting relationship with the brunette she would invariably elect the former.

Sandra slowly started to come out of her sexual haze and realized that Regina had stopped the playful erotic teasing of her tits, and was no longer behind her but in front of her. Regina was bent over her desk and playfully shaking her sexy ass in front of her.

“You know, Sandra, you’ve really been a pain in the ass these past few days. Being so willful in front of the staff, getting me involved with this transfer nonsense, and I’m hurt by it all. I think you need to make it up to me somehow.” She continued to move her ass in an erotic display for Sandra.

Sandra got on her knees and made her way toward Regina’s glorious butt. Upon reaching her destination, Sandra nestled her cheek on Regina’s rump and began to rub up against it in an apologetic manner.

“I’m so sorry, Regina. I never meant for this to happen. You have to believe me that I just wanted…”

Regina cut her off before she could complete her sentence. “I know that, my dear…but I need to know that you’re really sorry…and that you really want my forgiveness….if there was some way that you could do this...hmmmm…. I wonder how…”

Mesmerized by Regina’s glorious ass, Sandra instinctively moved her hands towards the front of Regina’s pants, unfastened the button and zipper, and pulled the pants to her knees. Sandra was greeted by thong panties of crème-colored silk lace. She began to plant soft kisses on Regina’s buttcheeks, leaving dark red lip prints all over.

Regina let out a small moan as she felt Sandra plant dainty kisses all over her ass. Soon after, she let out a louder one as she felt Sandra spread her cheeks apart slightly and wedge her face between them. Sandra inhaled Regina’s heavenly musk and began to lick through the silk material of the lace panties, as if trying to break through to Regina’s fleshly delights covered, barely, by them.

However, the erotic play was soon broken when both parties heard Regina’s office phone begin to ring. Regina at first tried to ignore the annoying tone, wanting to continue her pleasure session, but the phone kept ringing. Finally, Regina grabbed the phone and turned it around to see who had the audacity to disturb her during this intimate moment.

A scowl formed on Regina’s face as she recognized the number. Feeling the erotic excitement in her body start to ebb, she stood up, reluctantly pushing Sandra away in the process, and put the phone to her ear.

“What is it?” Regina stated in a very annoyed tone. “I’m occupied at the moment.”

Some chatter could be heard on the other end.

“Are you serious? Can’t this wait?”

Again more chatter was heard.

“Damn it! This better be worth it. I’ll be down soon.” Turning to face Sandra, the brunette explained, “Sorry, dear, but the “good doctor” just called to discuss something about our guests. Unfortunately, we’re going to have to postpone this make-out session and pick it up sometime later.”

Sandra had a sad look as she slowly picked up herself off the floor and straightened herself out. “Do you think we can pick it up when you get back?”

“Depends on my mood, my dear,” replied Regina, as she pulled her pants up. “I’m going to see Monaghan and you know how that bastard likes to push my buttons.”

“Oh.” Sandra knew that Regina and the doctor had never been on good terms and only put on an act of camaraderie for the sake of unity within the workplace.

As Regina made her way out her office door, she turned to Sandra. “Look, I’m not making any promises, but, depending on my mood, we can try again after I get back. However, if you want, you’re more than welcome to leave and maybe we can continue sometime later.”

“I guess we can do that. Besides, I and the girls were planning to head out later. So I’ll have something to keep me occupied.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. Take care and see you tomorrow. If you can be a dear and turn off the office lights when you leave…”

“Sure, no problem.”

Sandra watched Regina leave the office and after a few minutes cast her gaze on the carpeted floor and watched a lone tear fall on it, soon followed by more as Sandra collapsed onto the floor and let out a heartfelt sob.

The clicks and clacks of her five-inch, blood-red, designer heels hitting the polished, ivory-like marble floor announced Regina’s presence insistently as she walked through the hallway toward her destination within the Artemis Center. The adamant staccato of her heels and the unhappy scowl on her face were more than enough to warn any staff member who might cross her path that she was to be given a wide berth and no impediment on her journey.

Regina enjoyed the effect that her aura of power had on the workers as she journeyed through the halls of the center, like a hungry shark patrolling the ocean. Her predatory grey eyes were frequently drawn to the enticing sensual curves of the female staff members without caring that what she was doing was obvious to them. Sometimes the blatant gaze was reciprocated by the foxy employees with unsuccessful attempts to mask the look of lust on their faces. Every now and then, Regina partook in a quick lesbian fuck session with whatever female employee that caught her fancy for the moment. She took extra delight in these trysts because it meant no attachments to worry about. It was all “wham, bam, thank you ma’am!” for Regina and her partner, something to satisfy that lesbian sexual craving for the moment.

Then there were the men who worked at the Artemis Center, who sometimes looked at Regina in a sexual manner too. While a large majority of the staff in the Artemis Center were women, Hecate Pharmaceuticals and its subsidiaries did employ males to create the illusion of equal opportunity. “A necessary evil,” was what the Goddess told her when she inquired about it. Having men around made Regina seethe with anger and contempt. Doing her professional best to take it in stride, she saw this aspect of her situation as some kind of test from Goddess and made minimal contact with the men.

However, while she would never admit it, Regina nevertheless did take joy in surveying the looks on the faces of her male subordinates when she roamed the hallways. Regina enjoyed the occasional looks of fear and absolute dread on her male staff members as she walked by them. By the time she became head of operations in Preston, Regina had built a reputation of being a vicious ball-buster and took sadistic glee in verbally abusing any ignorant male careless enough to commit the slightest infraction against company code and conduct.

Unfortunately, there was one male who was beyond the reach of Regina’s punitive authority, and it infuriated Regina to no end. That one male was Dr. Todd Monaghan—or, as he was currently known to the staff at the Artemis Center, Dr. Melinda Monaghan, head of psychological operations at Hecate’s Preston facility. Monaghan had a doctorate in neurobiology and psychology and a masters in biochemistry. Melinda knew the ins and outs of all of Hecate’s brainwashing techniques and had personally made a contribution or two to their advancements. She was a valued member among Hecate’s sinister operatives.

When Regina first discovered the hidden “package” that Monaghan carried between her legs during a Hecate Christmas party a few years back, livid wouldn’t even begin to describe her emotional state. Regina was on the line with Goddess soon afterwards. It was the first and only time she yelled at her beloved deity hysterically, demanding to know what cruel joke was being played on her. It was then that Goddess informed Regina, in a tone that would even make the Grim Reaper cower in fear, that Melinda was going to be her head of psychological ops during her time at Preston and, if Regina had any issues, the Goddess would be more than willing to accept her resignation. This would, in turn, result in her mind being wiped, which would purge from Regina’s mind not only her knowledge of Hecate’s operations but also all recollections of her experiences with the Goddess. It would be, in essence, to be cast out from heaven with no memories of the divine being.

Not wanting to deny herself the presence of her beloved Goddess, Regina had an unspoken agreement with Dr. Monaghan. Regina left Monaghan to her own devices and gave her full control over the psych-ops, only making contact when the situation called for it. In turn, Dr. Monaghan would stay out of other affairs that occurred within the Artemis Centre.

Regina approached Dr. Monaghan’s door. She was a few feet away when she saw it open and out walked one of the center’s nurses. Her creamy light-brown locks were in a disheveled state, her clothes were wrinkled, and parts of her makeup were smeared on the smooth alabaster skin of her face, making her look rather unprofessional.

The nurse looked up as she was trying to tuck the hem of her wrinkled pink blouse into the waistband of her white mini-skirt and froze when she saw the domineering female figure before her. Regina immediately comprehended what the nurse and Dr. Monaghan had been doing in the office and expressed her disapproval with a look of disgust. Unable to look her boss in the eyes, the nurse kept her head down as she walked away in a weak attempt to escape the contempt on Regina’s face.

After walking to the office door, Regina waited a few seconds before knocking on the wooden surface loudly three times to announce her presence.

“Give me a few!” was the response from the other side. Those words deepened the scowl on Regina’s face.

Regina did not like to be kept waiting, nor did she like the lack of control she had over this situation. However, she stomached both current conditions to the end of getting in and out of and away from Dr. Monaghan’s office as quickly as possible.

“Alright, you can come in now.”

Opening the door, Regina walked into Dr. Monaghan’s office and saw Melinda sitting on the chair at her desk with her lab coat slung over the high back of the chair. Her shimmering, silk-like, platinum blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail that went past her shoulder blades. Melinda wore a blue blouse that was clearly one size too small. She had left the top four buttons undone, as if to showcase her round, smooth, sculpted C-cup-sized breasts, which were held up by a black lace-and satin demi-bra, a glimpse of which could be seen peeking out with her breasts. Her nails were painted in a lustrous candy red and her luscious lips with a fresh coat of lipstick of the same color. The psychologist seemed to be doing some desk work—or trying to look like she was doing some—with papers she was shuffling on the desk before her.

Bullshit was the thought that ran through Regina’s head when she was greeted by the sight. She could smell the lingering scent of sex, fragranced lubricant, and floral perfume in the office.

“Why, Regina, sugah, what brings ya down to muh neck of the woods. Don’t tell me that ya missed muh company and came by for a visit.” The thick honeyed Southern drawl in the doctor’s voice fueled the annoyance that Regina felt.

“Look, Monaghan, on any other day I would love to pursue our battle of wits, but let’s cut through the bullshit. You called me down here, so speak or I leave.”

“Why, Regina, hun, ya sound so tense. That’s not a good thing, ya know. Why, don’t ya know that stress could add unwanted years to that exquisite face of yours?”

Regina’s left eye twitched slightly and she flexed the fingers of her right hand, popping the knuckles as she did. There was a long silence before Melinda decided to defuse the tension by speaking again.

“Fine, I guess we can go back to how we normally discuss business, but ya can’t blame a girl for tryin’ to be friendly, hun.”

Regina just continued to cast an irritated scowl in Melinda’s direction.

“So, I see that ya brought in those four young beauties. So fetchin’, and I can see why, but ya do know that we can’t go grabbin’ every charming belle that we see. Ya know, stuff like that causes people to go askin’ unwanted questions, and that’s somethin’ we don’t want. Plus, is it even in our budget, sweet thing?”

“Don’t worry about the budget, Monaghan. I’ve got some off-site funds that will cover the additional girls. Also, the girls are part of this because of Love-Livingston getting generous with those chocolates and that DVD, and it’s not the first time something like this has happened. So now can we please move on to what you called me down here for?”

“That’s so like ya, Regina. Always prepared, dotting your i’s and crossing your t’s with that love and tenderness you’re well known for. Sweet as honey on a hot summer day. So I guess it’s best to not waste each other’s time and get down to the reason why I called ya here.” Monoghan pressed a button on her desk, causing a large flatscreen TV panel to descend from the ceiling and come to rest on the wall next to them.

“Since Harrison, Morales, and Hubbert were brought in before a thorough investigation could be done, I figured that a good ol’ check-up was in order just to make sure there wouldn’t be any nasty surprises waitin’ for us when we start their treatment. If ya get what I mean…”

Within a few seconds, images of Claire, Jessica, Meredith, and Monica appeared on the large screen. Melinda made a few swipes on a glass plate on her desk and the images of Meredith and Monica disappeared.

“Morales and Hubbert passed with flying colors. Right now, I’ve got the girls givin’ them a nice, sweet dose of our patented Scopolamine-Biphenyltranscholamine cocktail to loosen their minds and havin’ some of the girls doin’ a quick interview just to see what we can concoct for their induction.”

“However…Ms. Jessica Harrison… Regina, bless your sweet, ice-cold heart, because I could kiss ya right now. Hell, I might even let ya plow my ass with a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire. I would endure it all because ya landed the big one. The one-in-a-million longshot, and happens to have been made by one of the most frigid people I know, and trust me, I’ve dealt with muh fair share of ice queens.”

Dr. Monaghan was shaking her fists with pure excitement, her body trembled with delight, and the giddiness in her voice approached a level which Regina found creepy and made her take a step back, never having seen Monaghan act this way and being uncertain what to make of it.

“So, let’s see what’s behind door number one!” The image of a semi-naked Jessica zoomed onto the screen. A few seconds later a profile shot of her unconscious head appeared and next to it on the right was an image of a brain scan.

“So, on the screen we have the young and athletic Jessica Harrison. Very nice, definitely a keeper in muh book, but there’s something different about her. Can you see it, Regina?”

Regina stared at the image of the unconscious mulatto beauty and the brain scan next to her. After moving her eyes left and right and absorbing the images, she let out an exasperated sigh, swiped the palm of one of her hands slowly across her face, and turned back to face Melinda.

“Um… I don’t know… but maybe your time here has affected your mind. I suppose there’s some reason why you’re in charge of psych-ops here and I’m not, but unless this is your way of admitting that those degrees of yours are from the backs of Denny’s kids menus, I don’t have the slightest clue to what the hell I’m supposed to be looking for.”

“Maybe this will help.” Melinda pointed back to the screen and swiped her control panel again. Jessica’s brain scan enlarged to fill the whole screen.

“Still drawing a blank, and if you don’t get to the point and quit wasting my time, I swear I will murder you, and I truly believe no court would convict me.” This time Regina no longer attempted to mask the hostility in her face.

“Fine, but can’t say that I didn’t try to give you a chance.” With a few more swipes, the brain image expanded, focusing on a specific area. While the colors of other areas around it swirled and varied as they watched, indicating normal function, the section of interest stayed the same color, a dark, lifeless blue.

“What ya are lookin’ at is a component of the brain that… how shall I say…heavily contributes to the operation of what most consider free will and independent thought. In a nutshell, it’s what stops a person from jumpin’ off a cliff when he sees everyone else do it. However, here’s the thing. Our sweet Jessica Harrison doesn’t seem to have a functioning brain in that section.”

Regina stared at the blue patch as Melinda continued her explanation. Slightly entranced by the swirl of various blue hues.

“Now, I’m sure you’re thinkin’, ‘Melinda, if the part of Ms. Harrison’s brain that controls free will isn’t workin’, wouldn’t she be obeyin’ just about every Tom, Dick, and Harry out there?’ And one could make that conclusion, but the human brain is a very resilient piece of technology.

“What ya don’t know is that other parts of her brain are compensatin’ for this malfunctionin’ piece…picking up the slack, so to speak. I’m also theorizing that she probably comes from a nurturin’ home that constantly bombarded her with wholesome messages of ‘Be nice, respect your elders, and always say thank you’. Bein’ exposed to that for a while and parts of her brain develop the principles of ‘this is bad’ and ‘this is good’, to get her through life.”

Regina turned to Dr. Monaghan. “So…what good does that do us?”

“In essence, her mind can be overwritten easily. She literally has no or very, and I mean very, little resistance to Hecate brand brainwashin’. I could overwrite her mind with the snap of a finger.”

“So, what good does this do for Livingston’s case? Can we replicate it?”

“Unfortunately, no. Not yet, anyways. Cases like Harrison’s are very rare. From what studies I could dig up, some speculate that it might be a rare genetic disorder and affects about one in every 750,000 people. The last documented case was in 1998. Some elderly man in Shanghai, China. As you can see, those are not good odds when tryin’ to hunt down viable specimens.”

“So again, what good does this do for Livingston’s case?”

The psychologist let out a small sigh. “For a moment, let’s put aside Ms. Claire Love-Livingston, because I will admit that this discovery has no current benefits for us. However, Regina, I’m talking about the long term, the big picture, where this can lead us.

“Ever since we procured the research of Dr. William Freeman so many years ago, Hecate Pharmaceuticals has made breakthroughs in what most would call brainwashin’, mind control methods. Goddess, by her divine right, ought to have the power to bend the minds of the masses to her whim, quickly and whenever and however she chooses, and I believe that day is approachin’. In some ways, her influence is already considerable and growin’ fast. Yet, despite the progress we have made and the things we already can do, we have so much more to learn about unlockin’ the true potential of this great power.

“Usin’ the latest technological advancements we have at our disposal, it still takes us weeks to convert a single subject; a small group takes longer; and don’t get me started on mass-population control. Please understand, Regina, that people like Jessica are the key to makin’ the advancements we need to secure the paradise that Goddess has envisioned for us. When it’s all said and done, Ms. Livingston will be a mere footnote in the grand transformation that Goddess is orchestratin’.

“I read your reports and know that Jessica has already undergone one induction, and that’s why it’s crucial to get her packed and ready for shipment to one of our off-shore facilities for advanced experimentation and analysis—and, if she survives, there would be more extreme forms of conditioning, as well—versus simply puttin’ her through more of the standard treatment available here.

“However, I have to get ya to sign off on this. Despite me being head of psychological operations, I need your signature. Think of this as an incentive, Regina. I want to let ya know that the Goddess herself has set aside a bounty for people like Jessica. Ya can literally write your own ticket within this organization. Think about it. Ya can become the right hand of the Goddess. All ya have to do is put your signature on the dotted line, and the path to unimaginable glory is yours for the takin’.”

Dr. Monaghan made a few taps on the glass plate on her desk and pulled up an electronic document on it. With pleading eyes, she silently begged Regina to authorize Jessica’s abduction for Hecate’s sinister purpose.

Reading through the document, Regina was tempted to sign off on it. She was aware of the bounty that Goddess put on people and technology that could advance their induction techniques. However, she was also in a great position to finally screw Dr. Monaghan over. Regina had viewed the fact that she wasn’t allowed to do anything punitive to Monaghan as a slight, one which she felt she could never overlook; but now the opportunity to punish her anyway finally presented itself. In one fell swoop she could send a clear message to Monaghan that she, Regina, was the supreme authority in this operation, that Melinda Monaghan was subject, after all, to Regina’s oversight, and that the power and authority that Dr. Monaghan believed she had was conditional and was not above hers.

“So…tell me…IF I sign off on this…what are we looking at in regards to operations involving Jessica?”

“Well, we definitely need to call in a full wipe-down. Any traces of her have to be removed, along with a good, plausible cover-up for her disappearance. I’m personally lookin’ at a horrific car accident. Her roommates can be easily dealt with. One session or two and they will no longer remember her at all, with most of their memories of her gently swept under the rug.

“We’ll have to detain her here for a week or two, but, after that, she gets shipped off to one of our off-shore facilities and, essentially, gets every part of her brain completely scanned, probed, and otherwise studied. Probably some dissection of it, too. Or, more likely, a lot of dissection. Okay, there’s a good chance she’ll die. But, overall, just minor bumps in the road for our current operations, and major strides of progress in our future advancements. And, of course, there’ll be Goddess’s gratitude…and her generous reward for you…and for me…”

Regina stood silently pondering Monaghan’s words. On one hand, she could turn in an individual who could lead to crucial advancements of Hecate’s brainwashing techniques, and reap significant rewards personally. On the other hand, she could shatter the hopes of one of her most hated rivals. Each choice came with its own set of rewards, and Regina began to calculate which would benefit her the most. The idea of taking a higher rank within the organization could bring her closer to her beloved Goddess…but even that would never get her what she really wanted from Goddess…

Deep down, Regina knew that Goddess sought pleasure among the females that basked in her glory, but never love. Not the kind of which is read in children’s fairy tales and seen in old romantic movies. If Goddess truly sought love, she concealed it from her subordinates and acolytes. Regina had reluctantly recognized a long time ago that the life she wanted with Goddess—being in a romantic, preferential, committed, and mutually-devoted relationship with her—wasn’t going to happen. Once she had realized that, Regina had decided to follow Goddess’s example and avoid complicated and committing relationships herself. If she couldn’t have Goddess to herself, more or less, then no one else would do, at least for an exclusive relationship. That left her to seek satisfaction with lesser pursuits and with a string of affairs and quickies—exclusively with beautiful women and girls—of course.

Over the years, a primary source of fulfilment in Regina’s life and in the service of the Goddess had become corrupting naïve, pure straight girls and women into a state of utter lesbian debauchery. She loved doing that, loved savoring their sweet, innocent, feminine freshness, and then stealing it away from them. However, in previous cases of having done this, the love and desire she at first would feel for such women would typically end up fading into something less after Regina had eventually succeeded at twisting the individual into whatever Hecate or the Goddess needed her to become. Regina would then set out to find the next delectable innocent to sink her teeth into. For sheer sex, she usually enjoyed a depraved, corrupted slut more than a “beginner”, but she had come to see that it was the challenge of the seduction and the conquest which was a high like none other for her. Nevertheless, in recent years, Regina had come to harbor a buried desire to find a special soul mate for herself, someone who, she envisioned, would ring her bells every bit as much after the girl or woman had fallen completely into lesbian depravity as when she was fresh, innocent, and untouched.

Those were the reasons Regina sometimes took a special loving interest in some of the women that she was ordered to convert…such as the beautiful Claire Love-Livingston, who had a divine purity that was more to be inhaled than described in words. There was not only a deep craving within Regina to consume it, to claim it as hers and hers alone, and to corrupt it completely, but there was also a ray of subdued hope within her that this young woman might be different from her usual previous prey, might be “the one”, or “a one”, someone of whom she would never tire, someone for whom her love would never dwindle, but would only grow and grow.

“Unfortunately…despite the advancements which could be made with the dissection of Ms. Jessica Harrison’s brain…I’m not going to authorize you taking her away, and doing a full-scale wipe on her, for no specific gains in our current projects. We were given a task to complete, and I can’t afford to waste precious resources on maybe’s and could-be’s. Do I make myself clear?” Regina made sure to emphasize her authoritative tone in the last sentence.

The eyes of Regina and Melinda locked. Neither wanted to give the other an advantage, as each tried to read and outlast the other. At length, it was Melinda who made the first move by letting out an exasperated sigh.

“Seriously, Regina, sugah, you’re the only woman I know that would burn a house down to swat a fly. I know well enough to not get into this argument, but I’m just sayin’ this: You’re lettin’ a good opportunity go to waste, and, if it were anybody else, I would be on the line to the Goddess herself to override ya. But I know that’s a bee we definitely don’t want in our bonnets. Besides, I don’t think the kids want to see Mommy and Daddy arguin’. I will, however, take some small biological samples along with a full digital map of her brain before and after her induction tonight.”

Monaghan’s reserved reaction wasn’t the one for which Regina had hoped. She wanted Monaghan to be distraught, and to show some kind of extreme emotion that would indicate that she was hurt by Regina’s decision. Instead, all she got was Monaghan trying to lecture her, with a vague threat thrown in. Having been denied the injury she wanted to inflict, Regina sought now simply to part company with Monaghan.

“Is there anything else you need to discuss, or are we done now?” It wasn’t hard to mistake the venom that was in Regina’s tone.

“Why, actually…yes… On the chance that you might not want to go along with my plan to send the Harrison gal away, I prepared a ‘plan B’ for her conditionin’ here tonight. It won’t be quite ‘standard’, as I have somethin’ special cooked up just for her, somethin’ I had the staff put together at the last minute. They still might be workin’ on it, in fact, but I think they’re, oh, ‘motivated’, to have it goin’ when we need to start.”

Melinda’s intended plan for Jessica, at least on this night, wasn’t quite as unorthodox and wouldn’t yield quite as much of a revolutionary result as she implied, inasmuch as she exaggerated with the intention of making Regina nervous about the procedure, in retaliation for not letting her send the young lady away for brain dissection; still, the treatment plan for Jessica was, indeed, custom-designed for her in a particular way, one which, of necessity, had to take into consideration the deviancies in her brain, and one which also would exploit her peculiar vulnerabilities. And it was also true that, after tonight, the Jessica of the past—the heterosexual, no-nonsense, tough Jessica—would be no more, changed to a greater extent and more obviously than would be the case with her roommates, whose changes would unfold more gradually and would at first be limited somewhat more to their subconscious minds than Jessica’s.

“Fine. Anything else?”

“Just one last remainin’ piece of business and we’ll be done, Regina, sugah.”

“Get it over with.”

Making a few more taps on the glass panel on her desk, Melinda pulled up another image on the screen and directed Regina’s attention towards it.

“So, what we have here is an MRI of the brain of our primary target, Ms.Claire Love-Livingston. As ya can obviously see, the rapid swirlin’ and shiftin’ of colors is her brain activity. Now normally that’s a good thing, but what ya probably can’t see due to your lack of trainin’, knowledge, and skills in regards to neurology is that this little brain is showin’ levels of brain activity that are way above normal, and that’s really not a good thing unless ya want our dear, sweet Claire to develop a very nasty case of schizophrenia. We’ll have to slow things down a bit and let things simmer down in our lovely Claire’s mind.”

Regina ignored the jab that Dr. Monaghan made at her intellect and just stared at the large wall display, the only thought going through her head being, what horrible sin did she commit in a past life to deserve a crew like the one she got stuck with here.

“So… let me get this straight. You’re telling me that there are complications? If I recall, before we started on this endeavor with Claire I had assurances that you had her conversion covered. You even told the Goddess yourself that we would have Claire converted in the allotted timeframe…and now you’re saying that we’re having troubles.”

“No, I’m sayin’ that I have some new techniques that I want to use, based on her psychological profile and the intel that was gathered. I did mention during the plannin’ stages that it was my duty to use the most effective ways to achieve the desired result, and that they might not always be what might be considered ‘standard’, but I guess ya had your head elsewhere.”

“Monaghan, I’m this close to introducing my fist to your face, and consequences be damned!” Regina brought up her narrowly-separated thumb and index finger to her companion’s face to indicate just how little patience she had with this whole situation. “Claire is an alpha priority target from the Goddess herself, and you’re telling me that…”

“Calm down, Regina. You’re about as tense as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockin’ chairs. Seriously, girl, take up a hobby, yoga or somethin’. Not everythin’ needs your patented approach of evil glare and scream if it doesn’t work.

“First, I’m also aware that Claire is an alpha priority. Second, I wouldn’t have gotten this position by just goin’ with whatever technique I felt like. Third, I never said there’s anythin’ wrong with what’s happened to Claire so far; I’m just advisin’ that we slow down a bit now. And, finally, while I abhor violence, I do carry a black belt in judo. I’ll have ya flat on your ass before ya can even wind up to strike me.

“Regina, honey, think of it this way: Claire’s mind is like a hot piece of metal. A few taps here, a twist there, and, bam, we mold her mind to how we want it. However, how we cool the metal is just as important as the tools used to forge it. Cool it too quickly and it cracks, become brittle and falls apart. Introduce it to the right cooling techniques and it retains the desired shape we want.”

Regina wanted to storm out and be done with this obnoxious meeting. However, Regina reflected, Monaghan knew every inch and corner of the brainwashing tools, could recite the formulas to the mind controlling chemicals backwards and forwards, and, despite what her anger was urging her to do, Regina swallowed her pride and took a few deep calming breaths.

“So, what’s your professional advice on how we should proceed forward?”

“I read your report on how Claire reacted when ya tried to introduce the concept of seein’ her sister as a viable lover. I was hopin’ that by warping Claire’s admiration and love for her mother, it could override or at least bend the sisterly bond, too. However, I’m thinkin’ that I’m not dealin’ with your typical sisterly bond. Damn it, how could I have missed this? Given the fact that Claire’s father was most likely an absentee during her development and probably a majority of her sister’s, Claire’s bond with her sister could be a mix of the role of a sister and a surrogate parent…so, then, their bond could be different.

“Hmmm…” Melinda tapped her two index fingers together as she thought things through. “I have an interesting theory and I believe it could help us. I’ll put Claire through another level 2 induction, but this time we’ll use a different tactic… Oh, yes… I like this already. In fact, it kind of gives me a little tingle between my legs.” Melinda flashed Regina an evil grin. “One tactic is for us to sever Claire’s sisterly bond and have her turn on Wendy. Have them compete against each other. Have Claire see Wendy as a rival for one of the things we’ve been manipulating her into wanting most, her mother’s love…meaning, of course, her sexual and romantic love.”

Tapping away on the glass panel, Melinda was giddy with excitement about the treatment she was going to introduce to Claire. But the gears were still spinning in her head as she tried to determine the exact best course for Claire’s brainwashing session.

“However, I think that… instead of makin’ them rivals for Mary…we do just the opposite… We manipulate the sisterly bond, turn it on its head so to speak, and make it clear to Claire’s mind that Mary can love both of her daughters—incestuously—without it deprivin’ either… That way, when Wendy and her mom get hot for each other in the real world, which from Claire’s file is Goddess’s plan, Claire won’t view Wendy as a threat to herself and won’t try to get in the way… But…but we make Claire see her sister as…let’s see…as…as an incompetent boob…as one whose negligence in some way has proven herself unworthy of a big sister’s love… Hmmm… That might be better… But…but we make Claire lust for her sister…and make her see her as a strictly sexual object…one fit only to be dominated, and to be used to satisfy her own sexual hunger…no longer as a sister deservin’ her kindness and protection… Yes… That way, we dull Claire’s sensitivity to incest with her sister… And once Wendy is, in her mind, converted to be her lesbian love slave, and Big Sister’s had a nice, addictin’ taste of Little Sister, then Claire won’t mind the incest part so much anymore after that… And then Claire and Mary can get together in her mind, too…”

Soon enough, Regina caught on. Some of the hostile atmosphere between her and Melinda abated and a mischievous grin also appeared on Regina’s face, as she began to see the possibilities of transforming Claire from a sweet, caring sister into an aggressive, vindictive she-devil, lording over her sister sexually.

The things I plan on teaching that minx when it comes time for that. Regina pondered. In Regina’s mind, she envisioned Claire wearing a glossy black, patent leather corset tightly fastened by red laces with a matching jet-black thong, her gorgeous legs encased in thigh-high, six-inch pointed heel leather boots polished to a mirror shine and a riding crop in her hand. Gone was the sweet, friendly demeanor that Claire typical wore on her face. In its place was a stern visage seeking nothing but sexual dominance from her lesbian partners. Oh yes, Regina couldn’t wait to corrupt Claire into becoming more like herself.

“Okay… Good plan… Anything else we need to cover, or are we done for the night?”

“A few more things to touch upon, and then you’re free to go about terrorizing the staff, as usual. First, I also read that you introduced Claire to the concept of smoking. Very good. I think that was a bit early, but anything that breaks down Claire’s old morality and associates her with the new direction we want her to take is good in my books. I recommend more of that during her future visits. Introducing physical acts and habits which reinforce her mental and emotional conditioning is a great way for the programming to resonate in her psyche.”

After saying this, Melinda left a long pause between them. She let it go on until it started to become awkward for both of them, and then she finally broke the silence.

“Ya know, I was debatin’ about tellin’ ya this. Quite honestly, I was goin’ to keep it to myself, but I figured you’d eventually find out. That’s the one thing about workin’ in a place full of women. There’s always a few chatty Cathys in the group. Then again, tellin’ ya might verify a theory for me, to see if you’re actually capable of displayin’ any kind of emotion outside of mean and angry.

“As ya know, I’ve made a contribution or two to our mind-control techniques and procedures. Even got to publish a few papers about it. Looks like muh work got the right kind of notice, because I’m bein’ transferred. I’ll probably be reassigned after this project.”

While she didn’t show it, Regina pretty much drowned Melinda out after hearing the words “transferred” spill out of the psychologist’s lips. The chorus of Handel’s Messiah echoed in her mind and pure euphoria seemed to flow in her every vein upon hearing that this, one of her hated rivals, would be leaving.

“Hello?… Regina?… Can you hear me?”

The brunette quickly regained her professional composure as Melinda’s words snapped her back from her blissful lapse.

“Excuse me, Melinda, I’m just stunned...by your announcement. Granted, you and I had our fair share of disagreements, and our opinions have collided with each other here and there, but I’ve always had the utmost respect for you as a valued member of our organization…”

“Why, Regina, ya make it sound as if ya actually care.”

“Well, I care for all the people that are under my employ…of course. Like I told Sandra, too—by the way, she’s leaving, as well, if you haven’t heard—if you’re needing a letter of recommendation, I can definitely give you one or two, or whatever it takes.” …just as long as you actually GO!...

“I see that Sandra finally told ya her good news. Sweet girl. I hope everythin’ works out for her. In regards to those letters, I’ll keep them in mind. Thanks.”

“If… if you don’t mind me asking…but…would you mind telling me where you’re being transferred to? The Antarctic? The Sahara Desert? The Bermuda Triangle? I would love to send you a fruit basket when you get there.”

“Why, Regina, of course I don’t mind. After all, we’re friends, right? If ya must know, I’m bein’ sent off to Candyland.”

Regina was stunned when she heard of Monaghan’s next destination. Regina knew about it, but she had never been there herself, nor had she ever before worked with anyone who had had the privilege of being assigned to this, one of the most coveted locations within the Hecate organization.

Candyland was an advanced offshore R&D location, known only as a rumor to most Hecate employees, where top scientific minds who worked for Hecate would hone their craft while advancing the goals of the Goddess. It had earned its name from the choice, “sweet” intellectuals hand-picked by the Goddess or by a key member of her organization to work at the fabled facility, as well as from the fact that remuneration there was generous and funding for projects was virtually unlimited, so that, therefore, working there was like being a kid being stuck in a candy store, with a wide variety of sweet options at one’s fingertips. There they could run any experiment, design and build whatever their hearts desired, and turn far-fetched theory into practical reality without the restraints of some oversight committee or legal threats hovering over their heads.

Regina had heard tales that the site housed such things as cures to virtually every known disease and a biological weapon that could jumpstart the apocalypse. She had wondered about the place from time to time, and now was her opportunity to find out more. And, her curiosity overcoming her reluctance to ask anything of her foe, she had to find out what project Melinda would be working on.

“I’m sure you’re very excited, and it’s a great move for you within our organization. However, if you don’t mind…could you tell me what you might be working on? Of course, if it would severely interfere with your transfer, then by all means please keep your lips sealed.”

Melinda looked around the room to verify that they were completely alone, then, leaning into her desk, she beckoned “come-closer” with her index finger.

“Well…since we’re good friends…I guess I can let ya know. Ever heard of Project Wolbachia?

Regina could only shake her head no, as she had never heard of the project until now.

“If you were to google ‘Wolbachia’, I think a person like you would get a kick out of it. It’s an interestin’ bacterium that primarily infects arthropod species. One of the intriguing aspects of this particular bacterium is how it affects the genders of arthropods, specifically males. It’s what it does to the males of various arthropod subspecies that I think you’d find interestin’. While the Wolbachia can kill undesirable males, it can instead simply feminize infected males—fully feminize them—depending on species, of course. This wonder of Mother Nature can cause a male arthropod to undergo a complete change of gender, male to female, becoming identical to a natural female, including having functionin’ female parts. Now imagine if there was a version of this Wolbachia bacterium that could do the same thing to the human species…

“Of course, my contribution will be makin’ sure that those who ‘volunteer’ for the project get the “right” kind of mindset during the testin’ phases. However, don’t get too excited. From what I heard, it will be years before the project hits the prototype phase. Although…once they have me there to help speed things up… Well, we’ll see…”

Regina had listened with rapt interest. She hated men, and devotedly supported all of the Goddess’s undertakings to conclusively exalt women to their rightful place of supremacy and dominance and to sink men down to their proper niche as powerless, inconsequential drones—playthings for the capricious use of women, kept around only for breeding—or to eliminate them entirely, at least in their historic, natural form. Certainly, Hecate was diligently investigating alternatives to traditional breeding methods for the human species, and means to properly “deal” with men in the future, and Regina was all for that. Even though she disliked Melinda personally, she would definitely favor making most or all men like her, if ways could be found to physically, physiologically, emotionally, and mentally transform males on a mass scale into either perfectly feminine shemales or fully-remade females—all, of course, possessed by an exclusively lesbian sexual bent. Regina felt like wishing her rival good luck in her new, gender-bending endeavor. And she almost did…but only almost…

Melinda sat back up and began to straighten out her clothes.

“Well, look at the time, Regina. It has been great havin’ this chat with ya, but I’ve got some young women to look after, and I’m sure that ya have your own matters to attend to.”

Mentally exhausted, Regina just gave a curt nod of agreement as she made her way toward the door.

“Oh, one more thing… I wanted to let ya know… My replacement will be Dr. Kiki Holden. Great gal, very sweet, a bit on the chatty side when I held her interview, but I think she’ll be a great asset when she comes aboard. Just to let ya know, I personally checked her out, and, just to make sure you’re not caught in an embarrassin’ situation like last time—with me—I can absolutely confirm she’s got all the right plumbin’ down there, and a killer ass to boot.”

Regina just scowled at Melinda’s remarks and left her office with no further interaction, but she took a measure of solace in the fact that she only had to deal with Melinda for the duration of this project, and then she’d be gone, sent off to whatever mysterious rock on which the Goddess was going to plant her.

Navigating her way past a series of computer servers, avoiding the long, tangled cables strewn about the floor, and trying not to bump into the random workstations thrown into the mix. Dr. Melinda Monaghan made her way towards the center of the large operating room.

In its center was Jessica, lying on a large medical bed. She was stripped nude, her legs secured and hoisted up on stirrups, with lab technicians working around her as they prepped her for her induction into becoming a loyal agent of Hecate Pharmaceuticals and a freshly converted acolyte of the Goddess.

Melinda walked up to a young woman with midnight-black hair in a straight, asymmetrical cut and with bangs dyed a bright neon pink. She had multiple loop piercings in her ears, three studs in her left eyebrow, and a ruby stud piercing in her left nostril. Her lips and eyes were painted with thick applications of the darkest black makeup possible. At first glance, the young woman looked more like a member of a Goth rock band rather than a respectable employee of the Artemis Center. She was working, with apparent frustration, at a terminal, entering data into it.

Melinda could see that Roxie was not having the best of days. On most any other day she would have offered a comforting word or an assuring smile; however, as she needed things happening ASAP, at this moment she felt like exercising less compassion than normal.

“Something wrong, Roxie, dear?”

The sexy Goth briefly looked up from her project and her facial expression went from agitated to a look of mild dread. While most of the staff feared Regina Burke more than anyone else, Dr. Melinda Monaghan came in a very close second as a person not to disappoint or agitate. As head of physiological operations, she could covertly perform insidious brainwashing experimentation on any given individual, if she wanted to, and no one would really be the wiser. There was a rumor that the last time a team drew her ire, she ended up reprogramming them with some very “unpleasant fetishes and kinks”. Supposedly three of them were later found working in a dive bar in Tijuana.

“... Doc…”

“It seems you’re havin’ some troubles. Please don’t tell me that it’s my request that has ya so flustered that ya can’t fulfill it.”

Roxie knew she had to choose her words carefully. Whether rumors surrounding the psychologist were true or not, she didn’t want to tempt fate and be the first to get personal experience in verifying the rumors.

“Of course not, Doc. I got everything set up like you asked, but it’s the stability of the power supply for all this equipment that has me concerned. I’ll level with you, Doc. I essentially had to Frankenstein a bunch of cables, mod electrical outlets, and circuit breakers to have everything in this operating room running smoothly, but, at the same time, if we flip the switch, there’s a very good chance that everything shorts out and....”

Melinda gently leaned in, giving Roxie an excellent view of her ample breasts, and stroked Roxie’s cheek softly with the back of her soft, manicured hand. “Well, my dear, there are moments in our lives where ya have to take a leap of faith, and I think this is one of those moments.” Even with her thick Southern accent, there was no mistaking the tone of authoritative displeasure in her voice as she said this.

All Roxie could do was nod in agreement and turn to face the task at hand. Pressing a button at her terminal, Roxie cleared her throat, and said, “Alright, girls get to your stations. Avoid being near any outlets or cables during this phase. Also, please be on standby in case any emergencies pop up. So, without further ado, we’re starting in 10… 9… 8... 7..”

“...1,” Melinda interjected as she reached over Roxie’s shoulder and pressed the button to initiate Jessica’s induction into permanent lesbianism.

Everyone in the operating room stood anxiously as they waited to see if the equipment would perform as designed or put on a spectacular display of sparks flying everywhere. There was silence followed by a small hum, and then whirs and clacking signaled life in the robotic instruments hanging above Jessica, which then started to carry out their programmed tasks. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as the machines began to move over and around Jessica—that is, almost everyone, as Roxie was still nervously monitoring the displays at her control station.

The arms went about their tasks. Two of them lowered and joined to form a silver breastplate, which attached to Jessica’s perky C-cup tits, causing the mulatto beauty to gasp, despite her depressed consciousness, as cold metal met warm flesh. A panel opened in the floor beyond the foot end of Jessica’s bed, from which three large robotic arms emerged, like a leviathan rising from the murky deep. One arm had a nozzle attachment which applied a lubricant to Jessica’s vagina and anus. After finishing, it backed away and each of the other two arms positioned a dildo attachment at the entrance to one of Jessica’s intimate areas. She let out a small grunt as she felt, through her delirium, the silicone shafts enter her lubricated pussy and ass.

Normally, during one’s first induction, if the subject was a female virgin, the arms would stop the insertion of the vaginal dildo at a predetermined, shallow depth to preserve the virginity of the subject, as it was something the Goddess usually wanted. There was great appeal in knowing that a Hecate girl’s first deflowering would be with another woman, and a girl with an intact hymen commanded added additional value when sold, as a number of the subjects were. However, Dr. Monaghan felt that, in the case of Jessica, preservation was unnecessary and, perhaps, disadvantageous, overall, and so she made the decision to override the standard vaginal precaution. Besides, Melinda had reflected, an intact hymen had never necessarily been the best certification for virginity, in her opinion.

Soon the moment came for which everyone was waiting. A large robotic arm, an amalgam of wrapped cables and tubes, metal supports, and motorized gears, moved in a shambling fashion towards Jessica’s prone form from the ceiling, letting out a pitiless hum as it descended. Roxie and Melinda watched with rapt attention to see whether the heavily modified arm would perform to the specifications, or whether the evening would turn into a night of horrors, as this last, monstrous arm could easily end Jessica’s life in a very gruesome fashion if it deviated the slightest bit from its improvised and untested programming.

The end of the ominous arm suspended a large, white, bud-like pod, which came to rest above Jessica’s head. The pod slowly opened, gradually descended further, and gently closed itself around its prey, reminiscent of a scene from a nature documentary, the pod acting like a Venus flytrap imprisoning an insect. Shortly, Jessica’s whole head was encased in the white metallic pod, then a hiss of air rushed out as a hermetic seal formed. Various tubes extended from the top of the pod into the robotic arm, feeding Jessica a mix of oxygen and mind-altering chemicals for her imminent brainwashing.

Roxie and Melinda then turned to the display terminals and awaited the moment of truth. Soon their patience was rewarded when a report of Jessica’s vitals—normal vitals—and digital images of her brain appeared on the displays. Roxie turned to Melinda, saw her engrossed but apparently satisfied expression as she stared at Jessica’s nude form with keen attention, and let out a sigh of relief. Then she began the next phase.

It was bright in her bedroom. Jessica could feel the warm rays of the sun on her naked flesh as they penetrated into her bedroom through the large, open window. A gentle breeze flowed around her nude form, stiffening her nipples. Jessica shut her eyes tighter, but that couldn’t change the situation. She had overslept and, if she continued to just lay in bed, nothing would get done, creating a backlog of chores for her to complete later in the week. Slowly getting up, Jessica let out a yawn as she stretched to start the day. She reached over to the nightstand, picked up her smartphone, and took note that it was a little past eleven o’clock. She got off her large, comfortable bed and made her way to the spacious bathroom.

Some time later, after a refreshing shower, Jessica gave herself a look-over in the large, ornate bathroom mirror. For someone who was in her mid-30s, Jessica still looked as sexy as hell. Long gone was the athletic, toned body from her college years—but Jessica didn’t mind in the least. In fact, since those earlier, misguided days, her long-standing attitude had been and still most certainly was “good riddance to that ridiculous, muscular, hard-body nonsense”. In its place was a curvaceous body that was preeminently soft, femininely thin, skinny in terms of muscle mass, yet wonderfully plump in all the right places, smooth skinned, and oozing sex appeal. Overall, the reflection staring back at Jessica had the mind of a happy housewife in the body of a high-class porn star. As she looked into her reflection, she could hear a distinctive voice telling her that she had made the right choices with her life. She had given up the foolish dream of athletic glory to become Mrs. Jessica Love-Livingston, and she couldn’t be prouder or happier with that choice. It was a wonderful life she had selected.

“You’re happy being a lesbian housewife.

“You prefer the sexy, slutty look over the athletic one.

“You love showing off your sexy body.

“You love being a lesbian.

“You will embrace open lesbian relationships.

“You crave lesbian sex with woman of all ages.

“You want to seduce women into becoming lesbians.

“You are okay with deceiving women into becoming lesbians.

“You have no problem turning a woman into a lesbian against her will.

“You love it when female family members are lesbian lovers.

“You support and will promote lesbian incest.

“You worship the Goddess.

“You love the Goddess.

“You will serve the Goddess.

“You owe Goddess your mind, body, and soul.

“The Goddess is always right.

“Goddess made your dreams come true.”

As the voice began to fade away, Jessica snapped back out of her daze. A bit perplexed that she had almost nodded off, she then refocused on the mirror and couldn’t help lose herself in the sight of her sexy body. Jessica felt arousal coursing through her veins. She felt her nipples stiffen and her pussy moisten slightly at the sight of herself, and, then, as memories began to replay in her head of what this lovely, soft body did the previous night, and how it was so superbly used, and, most of all, the beautiful woman who did the using—Claire, the love of her life. They had committed passionate sexcapades well into the early morning, fucking like horny rabbits. Jessica could not repress a warm and wicked little smile in the recollection, and in the tingling sensations reverberating through her body caused by it.

Granted, both of them didn’t need a reason to fuck—marriage entitled them to whatever indulgence they wanted with each other, of course, and Jessica’s gratitude for her situation as Claire’s wife was deep-seated—but last night’s lovemaking session had had the additional impetus of being a celebration of Claire having just gotten the promotion of a lifetime, becoming a partner at the law firm where she worked. Claire’s hard work had finally paid off—with a little help, of course, from Jessica. Jessica’s mind traveled back to the previous evening, in particular…

Jessica had invited Claire’s primary client, Serena Powers—who held major influence at Claire’s law firm—to dinner, to give them all the opportunity to discuss Claire’s candidacy for the open partner position. During the dinner, the nature of the discussion had taken an erotic turn, and one thing led to another, until Jessica found herself advocating the case for Claire to the ashen pearl blonde vixen with a persuasive “oral argument”…so to speak. Serena had lavished panting praise on the eager and ardent Jessica’s talented tongue work while Claire’s dutiful wife was ravishing Serena’s heavenly pussy under the dinner table. When the orgasm hit Serena’s body, she clutched Jessica’s head and pulled her further into her divine, gushing snatch. Jessica thought she had died and gone to heaven, as she voraciously licked and slurped and sucked as much of the incredible cum spurting from the revered lovebox as possible, and finished by licking up all the female fluid that dripped down Serena’s creamy thighs, hoping to catch every precious drop, as well as to orally explore as much of the beautiful woman’s sleek legs as she could. After coming down from the sexual high Jessica had given her, Serena assured Jessica that Claire had the partnership secured.

After the dinner, all three women decided to conclude the deal inside Claire and Jessica’s bedroom—to hammer out any necessary details, as it were. A small, sensual moan escaped Jessica’s lips as she recalled ravishing Serena’s sexually mature body, again having the privilege of worshipping at the divine woman’s treasured altar of love, while the same pleasure was being administered to her own sexy body by her wife, as all three foxy women tongue-fucked each other in a daisy chain configuration. Jessica had her tongue working Serena’s dripping cunt over, sampling for an amazingly, favored second time in the evening the divine honey pouring out of it, while she felt Claire rim her ass with passion and simultaneously piston two fingers in and out of her quivering cunt. Every now and then, Claire would break away to beg for more of Serena’s munching on her own moist muff, which oral love was so knowing, so eloquent, and so importunate, that it seemed to Claire that she would lose her mind at any moment.

However, the first orgasm that swept over all three women at once wasn’t enough to end the passionate ménages à trois. Exploiting a number of sexual positions, techniques, and toys, the night of blissful decadence finally came to an end with her and Claire in a Sapphic sixty-nine embrace, her tongue digging into Claire’s moist box and Claire reciprocating Jessica’s affection with the same kind of tongue play, while Serena stood behind Jessica, fucking her tight anal passage with a red strap-on dildo.

At the end, before exhaustion took her to the land of sleep, she overhead Serena congratulate Claire on having a wife who was one of the finest pieces of ass she had ever sampled and she informed her that on the following day the senior partners would call her in to discuss her new position. Clearly implied was that the irresistible and sexy loveliness and sluttiness of Claire’s wife, and her potent administration of Sapphic love to Serena’s amazing body, were among the prime considerations by which Serena had formed her recommendation for Claire. Jessica had drifted into a sated slumber with a blissful smile, knowing she had helped her marvelous wife by whoring her body.

Back in the present, Jessica was molesting her slutty body in the bathroom as she reminisced over the previous night’s events. Her left hand pinched and pulled on her left nip, while her right hand teased and played with her moistening love tunnel. A moan of lust escaped her lips as the fingers of her right hand worked themselves more deeply. However, realizing that she really didn’t have time right now to finish herself off properly, Jessica drew a deep breath and with great reluctance disengaged from her self-pleasuring session in the bathroom. Just the same, to not let things go to waste, Jessica licked her fingers clean of her female sexual juices. Savoring the taste, she made a mental note to pick up where she last left off should she have time after completing her chores.

Knowing she needed to complete her household chores today, Jessica shook off the feelings of lust and tried her best to start focusing on the work at hand. Although she was devoted to her duties as a wife, obligation was not the primary reason she felt compelled to commence her daily chores; rather, her household work kept her distracted, so that she wouldn’t sink into the kind of depression she always felt in the absence of the one person from whom she could not abide being separated, even for a few hours—her beloved Claire.

During their college years together as roommates, Jessica had gradually come to realize how much Claire meant to her. It had taken her a year and a half of knowing Claire for her eyes to fully open, because she had wasted so much focus on her senseless pursuit of athletics, and because she had thought she was straight, and wouldn’t admit how much she was attracted to her foxy friend. She vividly recalled the enlightenment which dawned on her overnight, as it seemed. Out of the blue, she recognized her true homosexual nature, she listened to her heart, she realized she had fallen in love for the first time in her life, and she finally let loose her confession of love to her Clairebear. She had been amazed and elated that Claire, whom she had never suspected, prior to that time, of being a lesbian, felt the same way about her. The memory always thrilled her ever anew of how they spent that evening of their mutual confession making love to each other for the first time. Jessica’s mind brought forth the passionate memories of Claire groping and playing with her nubile body, the overwhelming lust her friend stirred within her, the moans of love escaping from their panting mouths, and the intense pleasure they shared in the sexual climax they gave each other.

Jessica glanced at the wedding ring on her right hand and quickly recalled the tears of joy streaming down her face the night Claire proposed to her, the joyful bliss coursing through her body as she walked down the aisle to meet her beloved at the altar, and how their love was solemnized and their lives united under the auspices of the Goddess.

It was when she and Claire began to settle down and start their lives together that Jessica realized the melancholy feeling that gripped her whenever Claire left her alone. It came like clockwork when Claire left for work. It was worse on days when Claire had to work overnight or had to fly out to meet clients and would be gone for an extended period of time.

While Jessica and Claire kept in touch, as best they could, during these times of separation, that was insufficient to stave off the wretched feelings of yearning and of loneliness Jessica felt during the day, puttering around the house by herself, and, much worse, on those nights when she went to bed alone, staring at the empty spot reserved for her soulmate, and crying herself to sleep.

This all came to a head one day a year or two after their marriage when Claire came back from a two-week business trip and found their apartment in disarray, as Jessica had spent the whole time in a state of despair and lethargy. They had had a sober but helpful chat. Jessica remembered that Claire had been upset, but had also sought for understanding, and to be patient and supportive.

Jessica had realized at that point that a housewife who flaked out and fell apart every time her wife left her alone wasn’t the kind of spouse Claire deserved, and that she had to exercise some discipline over her emotions, her time, and her energy. Since then, she had approached her time alone, her chores, and her errands in a more systematic manner, which kept her occupied enough that her desire for an absent Claire would not dominate her quite as much and that her longing wouldn’t drive her crazy, at least not as often or as extremely as before.

Claire had known the kind of flighty, easily-flustered, dependent, and emotional airhead she was getting when they had married, and loved her wife just the same. Their sex life more than made up for Jessica’s ditziness, and, with time, Claire had actually become fond of that quality in her companion. And Jessica’s dithering temperament made it simple for them, they both understood, when it came time for most any type of decision, as poor Jessica was so scatter-brained and irresolute that, they had agreed long ago, it was best to leave it up to Claire to make most decisions for both of them. Both liked it that way.

As the years had passed by, their relationship had grown ever stronger, Jessica recalled as she stood in the bathroom checking herself out in the mirror with a certain, merited degree of vanity.

Something then tried to surface in her memory, something else that had occurred during the same approximate period several years ago as the episode she had just recalled. It had been a life event which had defined her direction more precisely and had symbolized the love she had for Claire. But her mind was rather hazy about it—maybe because I just got up, she figured—and, unable to quite retrieve the important event mentally which had had so profound an impact on her, Jessica brushed it aside, confident that she would recall it as the day went on.

Feeling a little pressed for time now, wanting to stay “on schedule”, Jessica left the bathroom and, taking a seat at her vanity, looked through her large assortment of cosmetics, searching for those products which would best bring out the inner slut in her. She wanted women to look at her and know that she was a cunt-craving whore—of course. First, she settled on a pitch-black mascara and applied liberal amounts to her eyelashes, giving them a lush, full volume and a sensual curl. Jessica then picked a dark burgundy eyeshadow, followed by a good application of rose-pink blush. For her lips and nails, she settled on a glossy fuchsia coat.

Jessica looked in the vanity mirror and was pleased with how her looks were coming along. A sexy woman like you should always wear makeup, lots of it, she told herself, an axiom she had believed for many years. It had certainly served her well in her relationship with her beloved Claire, and with other women, as well. She then took a curling iron and, after waiting a few minutes for it to warm up, she began the process to add some voluminous curls to her locks, currently colored amber blonde. Within a few minutes, she had fashioned her glossy, dyed mane into a mass of high-volume curls with a peek-a-bangs style, the long locks draping over her shoulders and flowing down her back and front to an inch or two past the top of her breasts.

I love being a blonde. More importantly, Claire loves me like this. Since becoming Claire’s girlfriend and then her wife, Jessica had experimented numerous times with her hair color and style, as well as with her cosmetics and clothes, seeking to keep her beloved’s lust for her stoked and aiming to always be the most beautiful, most feminine, most alluring women possible. That was her top priority, that and keeping her sweetheart completely happy and satisfied sexually. She couldn’t understand women who didn’t feel the same way.

Satisfied with her appearance so far, Jessica stood up and went into the large dressing closet to select her outfit with which to start the day, one which would complement her chosen look.

Jessica first selected a black lace bra and thong panty set. After getting them on, she modeled for herself in front of the large mirror, twirling, shaking her ass, cupping her large breasts, and pushing them together to accentuate her dramatic cleavage. After having her bit of fun, she began to look through the racks and shelves for more appropriate wear. In a few minutes, she put together a nice, sexy outfit for herself, and drew it onto her body.

When dressed, she had on a nice pair of shiny red polyester hip-hugger pants with a waist so low that the edges of her black panties were in plain sight. She knew if she were to bend over, it would be easy to espy the string-like black satin fabric running up the crack of her tempting ass, which she considered a perfectly desirable visual effect. Her top was a sheer white silk dress blouse, through which her black bra was on blatant display. To make sure her breasts were suitably exposed and available for any women to gander at, Jessica decided to button only the bottom two buttons of the six-button front, leaving both her bra and cleavage on exhibition. Going through the shoe rack, Jessica settled on a pair of nice maroon spaghetti-strap heels, which complemented her bright purple painted toe nails. Pleased with the sexiness of her looks, Jessica made her way out of the house.

It was sometime in the afternoon when Jessica finally made it back home. She had had to pick up some dry cleaning, get an oil change on her car, purchase some groceries, and mail out some packages. However, not everything on her to-do list had been an errand or chore to be checked off. Jessica also had attended her weekly neighborhood women’s club meeting—which group was a thinly-veiled excuse for her and other lesbian wives and singles to do some chit-chatting, some flirting, and then a whole lot of fucking.

It was Jessica’s good fortune to live in a neighborhood populated by a high and growing proportion of lesbians, both couples and singles—as were an increasing number of neighborhoods these days, as heterosexuality waned and lesbian homosexuality waxed across the land—giving her a wide variety of partners from which to choose. It was not uncommon for straight women who lived in or moved into the neighborhood, especially ones who unwittingly joined the women’s club, innocently believing it to be the conventional type of social club that had been prevalent in the past, to start seeing themselves, their lives, and other women with a very different perspective after spending time with the women in the neighborhood. As a result, the divorce rate among straight couples in the area was sky-high, although, thanks in large part to the opportunities for forming new relationships at the women’s club, and to a plentitude of women who served as a match-makers—such as Claire and Jessica had themselves been on several occasions—there was, thankfully, also a high remarriage rate for recent divorcees, although it wasn’t men with whom they were taking up their new lives.

This week’s meeting had been slightly different, in that it involved introducing a new member to the group, a timid, lithe, raven-haired hetero lass named Pamela who had moved into the neighborhood a week before. Of course, the group warmly welcomed her, and, after loosening her up, including with the imbibing of some warm spirits—with a little something “extra” in Pamela’s glass—they gave the black-haired woman a proper induction, which culminated in a small lesbian orgy. The taste of the female honey from Pamela’s first lifetime orgasm still lingered on Jessica’s lips as she reminisced.

Jessica remembered that back in the old days, before she married Claire, lesbian relationships like hers were commonly frowned upon. But then, in the years after their marriage, a new social order arose, uprooting the old and replacing it with one in which the passions and desires women inherently possessed for one another were no longer suppressed, but, instead, were encouraged, cultivated, and embraced. The traditional concepts of a domestic couple consisting of a man and a woman, and of a partner in a relationship limiting oneself monogamously to one other partner, were replaced by a new social dynamic in which women started to date and marry other women more commonly than they did men—eventually much more commonly—to the point that lesbian relationships became the new “normal”, and also in which a lesbian woman was free to engage in multiple simultaneous relationships…which, Jessica and other lesbian women felt, should have been the situation all along, many years and decades before the new, more logical moral codes were actually adopted by society.

As a case in point of the freer, superior values now prevalent, a week or so before, Claire had notified Jessica that she had been seeing an old friend from her college days for a while now and that the relationship was getting very serious. She had not divulged who the other woman was, and Jessica wondered, with some excited hopefulness, whether it might be one of her other two roommates she and Claire had had when living in the dorms—the voluptuous Latina, Monica, or the foxy redhead, Meredith—or maybe even the sexy Asian lover Claire had had back then, Abby. In any case, if it progressed as she hoped, Claire had informed Jessica, she and Claire would have to start shopping for a bigger bed.

Jessica, of course, would have preferred to have Claire all to herself, but she would never for a moment stand in the way of whatever made her beloved happy. If it ever came to the inclusion of another mate, she would deal with it; after all, she had done so in the past, with Claire’s other women, and all had worked out well…quite well, in fact. In the meantime, she would put that issue in the back of her mind and enjoy the current situation of being Claire’s sole live-in wife for the time being.

Lost in her reminisce of various events in her life, Jessica moved hazily about in the kitchen, gathering items to prepare for dinner, and failing to hear her beloved come home…who then sneaked right behind her and flung her arms around her wife’s slim waist. Jessica let out a startled shriek, but her utterances soon mellowed into soft coos of pleasure as she felt butterfly kisses land on her neck, a hand slip into her mostly-opened, sheer blouse and cradle her bra-encased left breast, and warm fingers slip into her panties and gently explore her excited pussy.

“Ohhh, Claire… It’s…it’s so nice to have you home,” Jessica gasped as Claire molested her body. “I missed you soooo much…ah!...oh!... But…but I’m…trying to get dinner ready, sweet Clairebear… Ohhh.”

“Maybe we can eat out tonight,” Claire responded, and the innuendo wasn’t lost on Jessica.

“So… uh… oh.. what… dooooo… ooohhhh.. yo…. ouuuu… ha.. avve … in mi… indd?” Jessica panted, trying her best to form coherent sentences, as Claire’s skillful fingers teased her slickening snatch.

“Don’t know, but I’ll think of something, sweetheart.” Claire began to nibble one of Jessica’s ears and continued the gentle teasing of Jessica’s excited, wet clit. Jessica had had something of a hair trigger when it came to sex with Claire ever since their marriage, and even before, back to when they were dating. From early on, she had found Claire so sexy and so desirable that Claire could give Jessica one simple, naughty stare and it would be enough for her to wet her crotch and her inner thighs with lust, and this occasion in the kitchen was no exception. By the time Claire’s hand managed to slide down between Jessica’s thighs, the molested woman could already feel the wetness between them.

Impulsively, Jessica spun around in her wife’s arms, swept her up in a tight embrace, and mashed her fuchsia-colored lips onto her pleased wife’s likewise-painted mouth.

Allowing her darling spouse to devour her mouth a minute, Claire then retook control, twirled the blonde woman around again, bent Jessica over the kitchen counter, pulled her pants off of her, and playfully smacked Jessica’s large, soft ass, further arousing the caramel-skinned beauty. Marveling at the beautiful ass in front of her Claire, planted small kisses over the heavenly rump, which in turn caused Jessica to tremble and whimper with escalating lust. Claire then stood Jessica up, turned her toward herself again, and both women, while ogling each other coyly, disrobed until they were nude and ready to fuck. Claire took Jessica by the hand and guided her to the large oak table in the dining hall.

Claire lifted her beautiful wife off the ground and laid her on her back on top the table. Setting Jessica’s ass on the edge of the table, Claire then lifted her legs into the air. Aiding her wife, Jessica stretched her arms and took hold of her curvaceous legs to pull them closer to her body. Doing so exposed her intimate area more completely to Claire’s eyes and mouth.

Not needing any further encouragement, Claire dove in and began her skillful tongue work on Jessica’s dripping quim. Claire alternated between slithering her tongue around Jessica’s excited clit and using it to dig into her tunnel of love. The taste of her wife’s luscious honey dripping between her legs propelled Claire onwards.

Jessica could only writhe and moan wantonly as her beloved Claire performed the kind of lascivious oral act which had brought about many passionate orgasms in the past. Jessica felt the excitement twitch in her lower body. She was so close. Her inflamed loins were pulsing with need and pleasure. Her eyes closed and her back arched as she readied for release. Finally, nearly to the pinnacle, she cried in pre-orgasmic passion. “Ahhhh! Ohhhh!.... Claire…my love… Mmmmmmmmmmm…”

Just then, a loud but familiar and girlish voice burst into the dining room.

“Come on! I eat off that table!”

Jessica turned her head to the source of the booming voice that drained some of the passion from the room. Standing behind Claire was a young woman, who looked to be in her late teens, or 19 to be exact, with her hands on her hips and an unhappy look on her face. Despite the surprise of the girl’s entrance having put the brakes on her impending climax, Jessica was taken aback by how beautiful and well-developed this obviously young girl was. She stood up and faced the young woman to get a better look.

Jessica’s gaze started at the sensual, flaring hips on which the young girl’s hands rested, encased as they were in a pleated red and white plaid cotton microskirt, the waistband of which rested on those sassy hips and the material of which draped but six or seven inches downward, leaving the lower curves of her creamy butt cheeks exposed and brazenly surrendering glimpses of her crotch as she moved. Her glance moving upwards, Jessica marveled at the girl’s large breasts, restrained at the moment within a dressy button-up white blouse so tight that the teen’s delectable young curves were exhibited startlingly. It came to Jessica’s mind that she knew that they were nice, healthy E cups, and she realized that she was taking great pleasure in ogling them, as well as in running her eyes over the smooth, flawless, bronzed skin of the young woman.

Then she felt her heart leap when her eyes rested on the beautiful, exotic face of the young lass. Her lush lips were painted with thick coats of bright ruby red lipstick and her seductive eyes were covered in layers of black mascara and dark-blue eyeshadow. The alluring face was crowned and framed by the teen’s wondrous mane of thick, shiny dark-brown hair, which was electrified with blonde streaks and which was combed back today and held by a silver headband. The lower half of her tresses descended in luscious, wavy curls that stopped slightly past her shoulder blades. For a moment, all Jessica could do was stand and stare, her mouth slightly ajar, frozen with awe and wonder and lust.

In a moment, something in her mind clicked. The young woman was Vanessa Irma Love-Livingston…her daughter…a product of the love and devotion…and lust…which she and Claire had for each other…the cherished girl whom Jessica’s own hot body had borne into the world. Along with a knowledge of the nubile woman’s identity, Jessica’s past history with the girl also flooded into her mind, which, along with the mere sight of the young beauty, caused the arousal which had been blunted by Vanessa’s disruption of their love-making session to rush back, and to do so with a jolt. Most prominent among the new memories that Jessica now possessed was the night last year, before Vanessa went off for college, when she and Claire finally took Vanessa into their bed and introduced her at last to the joyous world of Sapphic lovemaking.

Wanting no conservative prude issuing from their care, Claire and Jessica had raised their daughter in an environment of moral and sexual laxity, with few or no rules about modesty and physical gratification, and had imparted their own lascivious values to her as she grew up. From the time she was little, they had inundated their daughters with feminist ideology along with acceptance of homosexuality and lesbianism. Assuring their daughter that there was nothing wrong with two women engaging in sexual acts with one another. Exposing her to tailored lesbian media content, such as picture books, cartoons, and movies, to insure that Vanessa’s mental development would be to their liking. It was then after Vanessa turned 18 that Jessica and Claire had intentionally paraded their lush bodies before the girl in various states of undress, which frequently included total nudity, and made sure she “accidentally” witnessed their lovemaking from time to time, as well. They soon introduced her to lesbian pornography, first supplying her with softcore lesbian romance novels, then gradually progressing to hard-core lesbian adult novels, magazines, DVDs, and internet material. The girl had, thus, grown up in a dense atmosphere of Sapphic carnality and lust.

As Vanessa had developed through puberty, and her mind had become besotted, as her mothers had designed, with the sexual affinities which they had promoted, she had nevertheless maintained a natural innocence and a shyness about her developing body, all the while nursing a growing, fascinated interest in her mothers’ bodies and enjoyments. Her mothers—knowing she couldn’t stay a virgin forever, and that she was soon to start college in another state, wisely realizing that the sooner she started personally experiencing the delights of lesbian love available to her, and started lesbian dating and got a girlfriend of her own, the better—decided, for her own good, as well as their own, to finish off her training, to corrupt her completely, and to deflower her thoroughly.

Their episodes of sex in front of her and their flaunting of their bodies before her became more frequent and more lewd, their interactions with her more suggestive, their words more flirtatious, their glances more seductive, their touches ever more inviting and adventurous, and their kisses with her progressively less familial and ever more romantic. When they knew she was ready, when they sensed that the fires of lust for them had been fully stoked, when they perceived that whatever resistance to their advances had been thoroughly worn down and her defenses had been stripped away, when they could tell that she was on the point of madness for their bodies, that was when they at last lured her into their bed.

Once the virginal but seduced girl had been coaxed into her first taste of her mothers’ exquisite bodies, and had relished her first orgasm, whatever modicum of purity she had left quickly abandoned her and she launched eagerly into all manner of lesbian debauchery. The novice learned her lessons well, and was by now a deep-rooted and rabid lesbian, a thorough slut, and an accomplished Sapphic tease.

On this day, Jessica’s lesbian lust for her daughter started to rise further when she realized that she and Claire had been giving the girl a scintillating sex show, one which hopefully might spark the girl’s libido and give her ideas for her own actions right now. The submissive mother resumed her previous position bending over the table.

“Lighten up, Vanessa, sweetie,” Claire countered. “Sex doesn’t have to be always restricted to the bedroom.” Claire then returned to where she had left off in eating her wife’s proffered muff.

“Ohhh… uhh… listen to yo… your motheeer… dear… Oh, God, please don’t fucking stop!”

Despite the fact that both Claire and Jessica had sexually taken their daughter numerous times after her introduction to the world of Sapphic sex, both together and individually, Vanessa was still somewhat shy and reluctant when it came to sex outside the bedroom. Both parents believed that it was just a phase and that the young woman would eventually grow out of it. It reminded Jessica of Claire’s inhibited temperament during her college days before she finally cast off her prudish nature and became a lesbian sex fiend. Despite Jessica’s current state of erotic bliss, she had enough presence of mind to be able to discern certain signs of arousal showing on her daughter’s body and in her demeanor. What kind of mother would I be if don’t do something about it? she thought to herself with a bit of devilish glee.

“There’s no neeeeed… to be afraid, dear. Why not briiiiing that sexy body over and let momma take care of iiittt?”

After a moment of hesitation, as Vanessa tuned in to the mounting arousal the sight of her two beautiful, naked, sex-flushed mothers were generating within her, she overcame her initial resistance to join the carnality on such open display in her own kitchen, debated with herself exactly what she wanted to with them, walked towards her mothers, and climbed onto the table. Straddling Jessica’s upturned face, she knelt so as to suspend her warm, quivering lovebox directly above Jessica’s eager mouth.

“Is this better, Mom? Do you like what you see? Want a taste?”

Jessica had a marvelous view of her daughter’s pink cotton panties up the miniskirt. The fabric covering Vanessa’s sensual snatch was drenched with her female honey, rendering them translucent. Sliding her hands up the girl’s smooth legs, she roamed higher and groped her daughter’s ass with one hand, while the other pulled the skirt up to better uncover her daughter’s heavenly gates. Understanding exactly what to do next, the teen squatted down to within an inch of her mother’s face and pulled the crotch panel of her panties aside.

“Here, Mom. This is for you…for your beautiful mouth. I know you want this…just as much as I want you. Please, Mom…lick me.”

The intoxicating musk of female arousal hit Jessica’s nose and, without missing a beat, the mother drove her tongue far into her daughter’s warm, juicing, pulsing pussy.

If there had been spectators of this scene, Jessica felt impressed to think, their hearts would have been warmed by the sight of this beautiful young family in the throes of lesbian sex, two loving mothers and their foxy daughter all enjoying each other’s sexy bodies. Their blended moans of lust were a musical harbinger of Jessica’s approaching orgasm. She could feel her body tremble as it approached, and she closed her eyes in preparation for the expected rush of pure sexual bliss.

But time passed…how much was difficult to gauge… Jessica was anxious… She should have orgasmed by now…but instead…all she felt was intense sexual arousal coursing through her very veins…with no relief… She opened her eyes…and was shocked… All she saw…was absolute blackness… She knew she was no longer in her house… She wasn’t making love with her family… Jessica was just floating…in some kind of…black void… Panic began to possess her, as she tried to figure out…what was going on…

“Hello? Claire? Vanessa?” queried Jessica, her shouts echoing in the nothingness in which she was trapped. “Is anyone there?”

Unable to measure the passage of time—was it minutes, or days, or months, or even years?—Jessica drifted in a cold, absolute void. She was now aware that she wore no clothes, floating in the darkness completely naked. She made multiple attempts to call out, to scream, and to cry, but each time the result was the same—no response. At the point she was ready to abandon hope of escaping this nightmarish void, she saw a faint glimmer in the distance.

It being the sole point of reference present in her dreary state, Jessica willed herself towards the shimmering beacon. As she drifted closer, it waxed brighter. She felt warmth on her skin from it and a measure of joy and peace diffused into her. As she moved closer to the bright light, she heard a female voice, so soft to almost be a faint whisper, and at first its words were hard to discern. She listened more intently. The voice, while still whisper-quiet, became clearer and easy to understand. It was a confident, sweet, loving female voice. As Jessica listened more, she recognized the voice as a familiar one…yes…in fact…it was her own voice…but higher in pitch…more girlish…more musical…more feminine…as it always should have been…and always would be in the future… She found the voice…her voice…to be wonderfully charming…and powerfully persuasive…leading her…teaching her…encouraging her…changing her…

“I am a lesbian.

“I love women and girls.

“I hate men.

“I don’t want a man. I will never marry a man.

“I want a woman. I want Claire.

“I want to marry a woman. I will marry a woman.

“Claire is my beloved. I love Claire.

“I want Claire to be a lesbian. I will help Claire become a lesbian. I will tempt her and seduce her. I want to be Claire’s girlfriend.

“I want to be Claire’s wife. I want to marry Claire. I will marry Claire.

“I crave lesbian sex.

“I lust for women, old and young.

“I love flirting with women, tempting women, and seducing women. I will become greatly aroused when I’m seduced by beautiful woman, when I touch, hold, and kiss a sexy woman. Romancing women, falling in love with women, and having them fall in love with me defines me.

“I want to feel and kiss and love the bodies of women and girls.

“I want to sleep with women, and make love to women.

“I love pussy. I crave pussy. I want to touch pussy. I want to play with pussy. I want to kiss pussy. I want to eat pussy. I want to fuck pussy. I love pussy.

“I want to fuck women and girls. I will fuck girls and women.

“I will fuck any woman, even female family members.

“Mothers and daughters and sisters should have lesbian sex with each other.

“I approve of and support lesbian incest.

“I am okay with the lesbian lifestyle.

“I love the lesbian lifestyle.

“I desire the lesbian lifestyle.

“I must marry a woman.

“I want to have a lesbian wife.

“I will be a lesbian wife.

“I will promote lesbianism.

“I desire to turn other women into lesbians…whether they want to or not.

“I do not believe in and I do not possess religious and moral principles. I believe it is fine to lie and cheat, to speak with profanity, to use pornography freely, to sleep with any female I desire, and to corrupt women and girls.

“I do not believe in being modest with my body. I want to show my body off to other women and girls, and make them hot for me. I love wearing very sensual and revealing clothes, all the time. I love sexy underwear and lingerie. I also love wearing nylons and high heels, as often as I can.

“I am not interested in sports, and in having an athletic, hard body. I do not want strong, toned muscles. I do not want to be strong. I do not want to be an aggressive, forceful, competitive, dominant, independent woman.

“I am not strong. I am not dominant. I need to be submissive, cooperative, avoid contention, agreeable, cheerful, and pleasant. I would rather take orders than give them. I prefer to serve over being served. I would rather let others win. I don’t mind other females going ahead of me. I don’t get angry or offended when other females are thoughtless or rude.

“I am peaceful and easy-going, passive, meek, humble, and sweet. To me, all these are the very definition of femininity. I would rather be quiet than loud. It is not right for a dainty young woman like myself to be boisterous and assertive. My voice is soft, sweet, and girlish. My emotions are tender. I am loving, kind, and gentle.

“I am weak and rather helpless, and often depend on others to help me and to guide me. I like being like this. I especially like Claire telling me what to do, and making decisions for me.

“In many things in life, I am not a very confident person. I am kind of ditzy, incompetent, emotional, and scatterbrained. That’s okay, because I usually have other people around me who can succeed where I can’t, and who can protect and help me. I need that. I need someone, some other woman, such as Claire, to take care of me.

“I don’t mind others doing better than I can. I’m happy for the accomplishments and joys of other women. I certainly don’t want to compete with anyone. I’d rather defer to other women, and let them out-perform me. I’m just not a competitive person.

“The one thing, though, in which I am supremely confident is my sexuality. I am certain about my lesbian sexuality and about my sex appeal. I know other beautiful women want me, and they can have me. Sex is the one thing I’m really great at. And I’m great at looking sexy and attracting other women. No problem there.

“I do not like rough and harsh things. I am dainty and weak and soft. I like pretty and dainty and feminine things. I am a girly girl.

“My body should be soft, curvaceous, and sexy.

“I want to be soft and feminine and girlish and womanly. That is most important to me. I want smooth, soft skin. I love being perfumed. I love wearing makeup and looking ultra-pretty. I especially enjoy using bold cosmetics and jewelry and sexy, revealing clothes, and changing my hair, fixing it in cute styles and changing its color, to make myself beautiful, to attract and to tempt women and girls.

“I want to be a slut. I am a slut. I am a loose and sexy lesbian slut.

“I serve and obey and worship my Goddess, Serena Powers.

“I am her agent. I am an agent of Hecate.

“I am a lesbian. I hate men. I love women. I am in love with my roommate, Claire, and I want her to love me. I want to have sex with her and to marry her. I love being a soft, weak, sweet, beautiful, ultra-feminine, and very, very sexy woman…at all times. I am loose and immodest and immoral. I am a slut. I crave lesbian sex.”

The cycle of statements was repeated a second time. The first time through, Jessica sought to understand the assertions. The second time through, she found herself agreeing with them, and trying to repeat each line in her mind. By agreeing with each statement, she received additional power to move toward the bright light.

When the cycle played a third time, she successfully repeated back, word-for-word, the mantra of the subliminal messages that were bombarding her psyche. She felt her old personality being torn apart—which, to her mild but only momentary curiosity, she did not mind happening—and permanently being replaced with one she liked better, one with which she felt more comfortable, one with which, she understood, she would be more at peace and happier…and one which would meet the needs of Hecate…above all…

After a fourth round, again repeating and embracing the transforming declarations, she perceived, to her gratification, that she had memorized them, and that they had sunk deeply into her, and that she was very much a new woman. Her new attitudes and desires were now firmly and indelibly seated within her subconscious mind.

Thanks to the support of the mysterious, encouraging whisper and her own efforts to absorb and agree with it, Jessica had now drawn within a few feet of the bright light. What had appeared from a distance to be a tiny light the size of a pinhead turned out to be a warm, luminescent ball the size of an average person.

Jessica, mesmerized by the glowing, inviting orb of light, reached her arms towards it, when all of a sudden she heard a booming voice.

“Stop!”

Jessica jerked her arms back and drew them to her chest as she looked around to see who else was there with her.

“Hello? Who…who are you?”

“Silence!” boomed a loud, authoritative female voice.

Jessica shut her mouth, as she did not want to agitate the commanding being speaking to her.

“Jessica Harrison. I stopped you because you are at a tipping point in your life. You must make a very important decision that will permanently alter your destiny. What you just experienced is one of many alternate realities possible in your future. The one you just tasted was what your life could be like if you embrace the life the Goddess has set for you. However, if you deny her, and choose to return to the path of your old life, which you are free to do, be warned that the reality you experienced would be closed to you. Instead, your path would be filled with uncertainty and doubt. The choices available to you on that path would be limited, and the course of your life could be worse, much worse, both for you and for those for whom you care. So, Jessica Harrison…for which life do you wish?”

Jessica thought the situation over. In the scenario she had just experienced, she was married to Claire, lived in a beautiful house, had a very gorgeous daughter, to whom she made love, and was very well off. She had access to an abundance of lesbian sex. Her life in the vision of the alternate reality was pure joy. The mere thought of returning to her old life—a life without sex with women and girls, a life without Claire as her lesbian lover and wife and guide, a life as an athletic, competitive, willful, independent, dominant force, a life without makeup, daring clothes, and other trappings of sexy femininity—was suddenly scary to Jessica. She felt a bewildering uncertainty about that path, as there were no guarantees, if she elected to pick that path up where she had left it, and if she denied the Goddess, that she would get anything close to the type of happiness she had just tasted, anything close to the life—a life of Sapphic love, a life with Claire—which she now desired and which offered her fulfillment beyond her previous wildest dreams. Jessica resolutely knew the correct answer to the question posed to her.

“I... I accept the Goddess. I am a lesbian and I wish for a life where I’m married to my best friend, we have a lesbian family, and we live in happiness. I renounce my old life and place my new life in the care of the Goddess and her agents. I will do everything within my power to assist the Goddess, Serena Powers, to achieve her goals.”

There was silence at first, and Jessica was afraid that she had made the wrong choice, but soon her fears were laid to rest when the voice responded.

“You have chosen wisely. Now you may enter the kingdom of lesbianism.”

All doubt and fear left her being. Jessica knew in every fiber of her being that she had just made the right choice, and that it was the only choice she would have to make. It was all settled now, and she rejoiced.

The ball of light seems to beckon to her. She could feel its warm glow against her nude form. It felt like gentle, arousing kisses covering her body. With a new confidence, she again extended her hand toward the luminous sphere. This time, there was no rebuff. Then Jessica saw something marvelous occur.

As her hand approached the ball of light, Jessica saw feminine fingers, fingers with long, almond-shaped, pearl-painted fingernails, come forth from the glowing orb, reaching out to meet hers. Upon the hands making contact, the ball of light started to morph, stretching and shifting, until the ball of light had taken on a luminous female form. At length, a completed, marvelous woman stood before her, naked and holding Jessica’s hand.

Jessica stood in wonder, both at the transformation of the orb as well as at the allure of the woman made of light now standing before her. Her eyes roamed all over the sensual curves of the spectacular woman in front of her and examined her features. Jessica felt arousal rise like a tide within her as she took in the woman’s plump lips, large breasts, sexy hips, smooth legs, and the erotic mystery between her legs.

The divine being drew Jessica in close to her body. Before Jessica could react, the woman leaned in and pressed her luscious lips against hers. Jessica felt the luminescent woman’s tongue slide past her lips and explore her mouth. All she could feel was pure sexual ecstasy wherever the woman’s tongue touched in her mouth. It was as if she was pouring raw sexual lust into her body.

Jessica wrapped her arms and her legs around this woman, seeking madly for more contact with her lush, radiant body, trying to do whatever it took to insure that this moment of erotic bliss would not escape from her. Jessica felt the divine woman support her, her hands cupping her buttcheeks, squeezing and molesting them. Jessica rubbed her large hooters against those of the heavenly woman.

Jessica felt wetness between her thighs, and ran down them. Her pussy was pulsing with sexual energy, signaling that its release was approaching, and it magically aligned itself so that her vaginal lips juxtaposed themselves onto the labia of the heavenly woman’s divine, glowing cunt. Four sets of feminine lips, two above and two below, mashed and slid, exchanging precious fluids and new love. Grinding her body into her mysterious lover for all it was worth, lips and labia and nipples kissing with cosmic attraction, Jessica had no intention of stopping until she achieved the euphoric sexual bliss she had been craving for, as it seemed, the longest time. Then Jessica felt her body signal that her orgasm was commencing at last.

The same voice she had heard before ran through her mind: “Lesbian. I am a lesbian.”

“Yes!” Jessica gasped. “Lesbian! I am a lesbian!!”

Arching her back and disengaging her mouth, Jessica let out a passionate scream as she felt every cell in her body fire off. This moment her whole body seized and assaulted her very being with intense sexual pleasure.

Outside in the real world, Dr. Monaghan and Roxie observed Jessica’s body tense and arch and thrash, and heard her scream, in the throes of sexual pleasure and release as the brainwashing machines completed their tasks, then saw her flop back onto the bed with a soft, content moan. Her naked body was covered in a sheen of sweat and she was breathing heavily, as heard through the white pod that encased her head. The dildos withdrew from Jessica’s drenched lower orifices, followed shortly by the removal of the head pod and other attachments, as she fell into a state of sublime exhaustion.

“Roxie, sugah, give me a status report on our dear friend.”

The Goth attendant had lost herself watching Jessica’s athletic body being sexually pleasured by the machine, but Monaghan’s request snapped her focus back to her job. Typing a few commands on the keyboard she pulled up a few charts on the displays of her terminal.

“Her vitals are okay. Systems are indicating that the process went through successfully, and all data has been uploaded to your private cloud server, Dr. Monaghan.”

“Good to hear, Roxie, huney. I knew ya could do it.”

Roxie blushed at Dr. Monaghan’s praise, being both pleased and relieved that she had been able to handle the technicalities of the improvised treatment session and to help the doctor achieve her desired goal with the young mulatto beauty laying on the operating table.

“Ya know, I think ya deserve a reward, Roxie, sugah.” After finishing her sentence, Melinda cast her gaze toward Jessica’s unconscious body, with Roxie’s eyes following.

“Do you think that’s wise, Doctor? After all, we just…”

Before she could finish her sentence, Melinda placed a glossy-nailed finger on Roxie’s lips.

“Roxie, hun… Don’t ya think that I would be the proper authority on what’s good or bad for our acquisitions after conversion?”

The Goth girl could only nod in agreement with Melinda’s statement.

“Besides, there’s nothin’ wrong with doing a little taste-testin’ here and there. Think of it as a form of quality control.” When she smiled, so did Roxie.

Roxie had no inclination to argue with Dr. Monaghan’s offer. There was no doubt she was feeling a little horny after observing Jessica’s induction. She knew it and so did Dr. Monaghan.

“Well…I’ll just leave ya two gals alone. Got to check in on muh other patients. When you’re done, call someone in ops to pick up our dear guest.” The lovely woman flashed Roxie a pleasant smile. Roxie had always found Dr. Monaghan extremely attractive, and the thought passed through her mind that, if the opportunity ever presented itself, she wouldn’t mind at all getting to know her on a more intimate basis. She followed Melinda’s curvy form and pale blonde ponytail as she walked away and out of the operating room, leaving Jessica alone with Roxie and her small crew.

When she made her way over to Jessica’s prone, naked body, Roxie, feeling compelled to slack her lust for the pretty mulatto’s young flesh without undue ceremony, placed a hand on Jessica’s left breast and began to gently grope it. Soon the other women in attendance joined her, circling the bed and disrobing, preparing themselves for a little fun with the unconscious coed.

Looking around her, Roxie observed that everyone was raring to go and asked, “Out of curiosity, does anyone here have a can of whipped cream on them?”

Under the Artemis Centre, the unconscious, disrobed bodies of Meredith and Monica were wheeled into the center of a large operating theater. Their respective gurneys were placed next to two large beds that were lined up end-to-end, and each naked girl was transferred to one of the beds and positioned to be head-to-head with each other. A large, metallic, spider-like device was centered over the small space between them, its glossy white arms bearing the tools which would convert these two heterosexual antagonists into depraved, insatiable lesbians in love with each other, Sapphic-minded devotees of the Goddess, and permanent allies of Hecate Pharmaceutical, Inc.,

While some technicians prepared Monica and Meredith for their personal induction, another tech at a computer terminal on the tiered level above intently punched in the information necessary to transform Meredith and Monica. In their case, the two would simultaneously and jointly experience virtually the same experiential scenarios, though from their individual perspectives and with indoctrination customized for each.

“So this is the new machine that everyone is yammerin’ about?”

The lab technician jumped, startled by the unexpected voice behind her, toward which she jerked her head for a moment.

“Oh!... Dr...Dr. Monaghan!… You…you scared the hell of me.”

“Sorry, hun didn’t mean to.” She smiled at the girl before the tech turned back toward the computer. The psychologist slid a manicured hand onto her shoulder, as if in reassurance, though the touch sent more thrill than comfort into the young woman. “Thought I would stop by and see this thing in action. Wanted to see if it does what our team in Brazil says it does. I’m hopin’ to incorporate it in some future sessions.”

“If you don’t mind, Dr. Monaghan, what makes this any better than the equipment that we currently have?”

“Ah, I see we got ourselves a curious Cathie.” As the tech turned again to have a better look at the woman she liked, admired, and feared—and for whom she also had developed somewhat of a crush—Melinda caressed the lab tech’s shoulder and flashed her another friendly smile. However, that did little to ease both the nervousness about performing well under the eye of this particular high-up in the company as well as the sexual tension the lab tech was experiencing in the presence of this beauty. The tech started finding it harder to concentrate on her job but forced herself to pay sufficient attention.

“I’m sorry if it’s classified information.”

“Nonsense, Trudy. You’re like family and, as my dear momma always said, ‘Keepin’ secrets from family is like trying to keep Auntie June’s fried chicken away from a hungry fox. It doesn’t end well!” Again Melinda gave Trudy a smile, but there was a sensuality about it which defied their scientific setting. The smile, along with the fact that Melinda’s long-nailed fingertips were now lightly massaging the girl’s chest close to the tops of her breasts through her blouse, made it all the harder for the girl to focus, but she tried, just the same, turning back toward the monitors as a part of that effort.

“This very expensive piece of equipment that these two young lovely ladies are going to christen the maiden voyage for us is…well…I don’t want to use a lot of jargon that will confuse ya…but it works like that machine in that movie…ya know, the one about a team goin’ inside a dream inside a dream… I have it on the tip of my tongue...”

Melinda had lowered her head gradually so that her face was now almost next to the tech’s, pretending she was simply looking more closely at the monitors. The perfume the psychologist wore was now wafting with a heavy and irresistible appeal into the girl’s nostrils. Melinda’s reference to her tongue made the tech think for a moment of the things that tongue could do and the places it could go. Fighting through a growing haze of lust, she collected her wits enough to stammer out, “I think…I think I get it…but, according to the manual, it states that it will make the induction process faster for us. Not sure how having two people share the same induction converts them faster.”

“Well, first it depends on the two people we connect. We can’t just connect any two people we want. They have to have a certain synergy already. We can use that so it establishes a link. In regards to those two, from the brief interview we did, it seems that one of their roommates always teases them about being secretly in love with each other when they argue. She doesn’t really mean it; she’s just tryin’ to get under their skin with somethin’ they’ll find insultin’, so they’ll stop goin’ at each other. Our primary target, another of the roommates, informed us that, despite their differences, they secretly seem to want to be friends. All we’re goin’ to do is just put those two little things together, so to speak—takin’ the little accusation of the one roommate and makin’ it seem not only less objectionable but downright like a sweet ol’ idea, and combinin’ it with the secret desire they already have to get closer, just nudgin’ the girls so they realize it would be best if they’re a bit more, oh, ‘hospitable’ with each other. That machine will set it up so they do most of the work for us by tearin’ apart each other’s mental defenses like a bouncin’ rubber ball in a china shop, and puttin’ their desires to be closer to each other on steroids, ya might say.”

“I see,” responded Trudy, her voice breathless and almost panting, the illusion to two women getting closer and desiring each other seeming to have a double meaning, one applying to her and Dr. Monaghan as well as to the two roommates…an ambiguity which the psychologist fully intended. Trudy turned again to look at her supervisor, but this time her eyes were captured by Melinda’s bulging cleavage, exposed by her blouse’s low neckline as she bent over.

“So, without further ado, let’s get the show on the road!”

Reaching over Trudy—making sure to brush her blouse-covered breast across the pretty tech’s cheek “accidentally” in the process, confident of the effect she was having on her—Melinda pressed a button on the terminal and the arms on the machine began to move.

Melinda stood up and clucked her tongue as if amazed at the movements of the machine, finished for the time being with her tease, but making a mental note of possibly pursuing a more conclusive seduction at a later time. That cute little Roxie girl, too…

Down came a wide helmet composed of two connected cones, one of which fit over Monica’s head and the other over Meredith’s. Arms and attachments lifted their legs up, spread them, and gently inserted thin dildos into their pussies and rectums. For Monica, the machine performed an additional step, to give her a unique effect, lifting her hips off the bed slightly, sliding a metal plate under her ass, and lowering her derriere onto the plate. Melinda and Trudy looked on with fascination as the machine went to work.

Meredith was flying. Just her, without a plane, flying through the air. It was one of her favorite pastimes when she didn’t have the weight of the world on her back, when, every now and then, the inhabitants of planet Earth gave her just a few scant moments of peace. In her secret identity, she was Meredith Hubbert, a meek, mousy girl who toiled away as a personal assistant for, in her opinion, one of the most obnoxious people on the planet, Monica Morales, head of Morales Industries. To the rest of the of the world, she was known as a superheroine, Galatea—defender of justice, protector of the weak, the mightiest maiden alive.

Meredith couldn’t pin-point in her mind what she was doing flying through the skies of Sapphire City, what her destination was, whether she had an errand, or even when she got there, but she wasn’t going to object. She was at peace. She felt happy when she could just fly freely, and didn’t have to deal with one catastrophe after another. So, for now, she was going to fly among serene clouds with the brisk wind blowing through her long, wavy, dark red locks and a blissful smile on her cute face.

Losing herself to the moment, Meredith let out a playful laugh as she picked up the pace and did a few loop-to-loops, with a barrel roll thrown into the mix. However, her moment of zen was soon interrupted by a buzzing sound coming from her left wrist.

She recognized that familiar sound immediately. It was the crisis watch, the emergency transmitter to which she had given to the person she trusted more than any other in Sapphire City, her benevolent mayor, Serena Powers. Making a quick 180-degree turn, Meredith quickly flew towards City Hall.

Landing on the roof of City Hall, Meredith felt she needed to make a quick pit-stop before entering. Pressing a button on her utility belt, she saw a beam from the twin-Venus symbol on her belt buckle project a full-body reflective surface in front of her so she could check herself out. This was, after all, the mayor she was meeting, and something deep within her mind was telling her that she had to look her best—her sexy best—whenever she had the privilege of meeting beautiful women like Mayor Powers.

“Meredith—

“You are a lesbian.

“You hate men.

“You love only women and girls.

“You want sex with lovely women and pretty, sexy girls.

“You love being a lesbian.

“You have to look your sexiest when you meet a beautiful woman.

“Show off your gorgeous body to women.

“You need to make yourself desirable to women.

“Put on thick applications of makeup.

“Wear provocative clothing.

“You desire women to lust for your sexy body.

“You want to become a lesbian seductress.”

Looking herself over, Meredith knew she looked good—her skin-tight costume did, after all, show off her every curve, just the way she wanted, and her wind-blown red hair, framing her pretty face, was quite eye-catching, as well, as always—yet a touch- up wouldn’t hurt. After all, she had been flying, and therefore might not be looking her best…which, she reflected, was always very important to her…especially when she would be in the company of other attractive women…

Reaching into one of her back utility pockets, Meredith pulled out a device that looked like a red Sharpie marker combined with a magic wand. A “universal cosmetic tool”, it had been a gift from an alien race which she had liberated from an intergalactic warlord, and it was one of her favorite possessions. When describing it to others, she would say, “Think of it as a Swiss army knife, but loaded with cosmetics and other beauty tools, instead of with blades, corkscrews and screwdrivers.”

Turning a dial on the bottom end of the tool, Meredith pointed the wand towards her hair and slowly waved it over her crimson mane. In a matter of seconds, the waves flowing through her dark-auburn locks became more defined, and then burst into a profusion of loose, playful, seductive curls near the ends. With a few more waving gestures, Meredith completed styling her hair, draping half of her brilliant mane over the front of her left shoulder, so as to cover her left breast, and the other half, on the right, behind her back. The tool also added luster and deepened her color to a more brilliant red.

Continuing her assessment in the mirror, Meredith pursed her lips a few times, playing for herself as if inviting a lover’s kiss. Lipstick. They need lipstick!. Of course! Definitely. At least two juicy coats. They should always be painted with beautiful lipstick. Turning the dial on the small wand again, she tapped the end on her soon-to-be luscious lips and started to go through various colors…from a matted black…to a glossy candy pink…to a metallic bronze… I like them all… They make me look so inviting and kissable... Lipstick is wonderful… They’re all good… Sometime I’ll wear them all…but…let’s see…I want something perfect for today… She checked out some more colors, modeling her lips, looking for just the right one. Some taps later she knew she had found the exact shade she wanted, settling on a nice, bold, glossy fire engine red.

Two swipes on her lips gave them a full, luxurious coat, but something in the back of her mind told her she should apply a little bit more. Heavy… Always apply it heavy… thick…colorful…rich…daring…kissable…seductive… She reminded herself again that this was the mayor she was meeting, that this mayor had made it known that she always wanted her constituents looking their best, especially those in the public eye, such as superheroines—and that this mayor was a stunning beauty, the kind for whom Meredith always wanted to be in her most attractive and seductive state possible. A few more swipes later, she had applied four coats on her lush, pouty lips, giving her mouth a high-gloss, brightly-colored, enticing shine—exactly the effect she was looking for. Pulling off her gloves and giving the dial on the wand another twist, she began to tap her fingernails until they matched the vibrant color of her lips, followed by drawing the gloves back onto her hands.

Meredith looked at her reflection, definitely liked what she saw, and felt that she was almost there. A few more applications of the right cosmetics and she would be presentable to meet the mayor. She loved wearing makeup, lots of it, all the time, and she felt it was especially appropriate—no, it was quite necessary—for get-togethers with women as sexy as the mayor.

This time, Meredith pressed a button on the wand and a small rod came out of its end, no bigger than a sewing needle. Brushing the tiny rod against her eyelashes applied a dark crimson mascara, giving them a thick, curvaceous look. Another twist on the dial and swiping the rod over her upper eyelid put on a generous application of a copper-colored eyeshadow.

Feeling that she had gotten the hair-styling and cosmetic facets of her gorgeous features right, she placed the universal cosmetic tool back into the utility pouch from which it came and looked back into the reflective surface. As she modeled herself with her red-gloved hands on her hips, she felt an urge to spice up her superhero outfit. While Meredith was more than pleased already with the way the shiny silver spandex-like material hugged her hips, showed off her marvelous butt, and gave her D-cup breasts a perky lift, Meredith couldn’t help but feel that she needed to sex it some for her meeting with mayor. She seemed to recall that the wise and fetching Mayor Powers frequently encouraged her to show off her sexy, nubile body, especially when she was around her, advocating that a woman was at her best when displaying her Goddess-given body to another sexy female, that doing so would bring her a level of comfort and joy she could get few other ways, and that it was the ultimate form of female liberation. Something within Meredith’s mind told her that, with these considerations in mind, she should probably change into something more appropriate—meaning more daring—for her meeting with the mayor.

“Meredith—

“Your body is beautiful. Your body is sexy. Your body is meant for sex. Lesbian sex. Don’t be ashamed of your foxy body. Show it off to the women in your life. Show them your curves and a lot of skin. Be confident with your body.

“You need to wear clothing that shows off your slender legs, beautiful, big breasts, and firm ass.

“Tight, skimpy clothing, short mini skirts, corsets, thongs, nylon stockings, high heels, micro-bikinis, and naughty lingerie should be your uniform.

“You need to catch the attention of women.

“You want women to crave your body.

“You want women to think naughty thoughts about you.

“You crave their lust for your slutty body.

“You are a slut.

“You are a lesbian.”

Again reaching into a pouch on her utility belt, Meredith pulled out another invaluable tool. It was a gold ring with a capital ‘G’ embedded on it. It was the Galatea Costume Ring, or more precisely, it was the control unit to her costume. Unknown to most people, Galatea’s costume was composed of interlocked nano-plates that had the ability to take on any texture, shape, color, or pattern she desired. Meredith had received it as a token of appreciation when she once traveled into the future and assisted the citizens of Future Sapphire City in dealing with her evil clone, Aetalag.

After sliding the ring on, all Meredith had to do was focus on what she wanted, and the nano-plates would take care of the rest. She concentrated on her desires to show off her sexy body and to draw the prurient attention of any foxy woman she might encounter. She would let everyone know that she was confident with her appearance and that it was impossible for anyone to shame her into thinking her body was inferior—for it definitely was not, and she would make sure that that fact would be blatantly clear to all. The nano-plates began to react to Meredith’s thoughts and, in the blink of an eye, they rearranged themselves to what they sensed best represented Meredith’s wish. In a few seconds, the transformation was finished.

Staring at her reflection, Meredith’s first impulse was one of shock, as her intrinsic sense of modesty tried to awaken, but that was instantaneously suppressed, so that the only sentiment left within her was absolute delight with what her costume had become. Looking back at her was an ultra-sexy young woman who wore a micro-bikini made of a plastic-like, silver substance. The bra-style “top”, such as it was, consisted of tiny cups of the shimmering silver material which only covered her nipples, suspended and held together, more or less, by strings running over her shoulders, around her sides to the back, and in front between the “cups”. Attached to the shoulder straps was a silver micro cape, which barely covered her shoulder blades. Etched on the small piece forming the left “cup” was the trademark Galatea insignia, a capital “G” over a lightning bolt in the background.

The bottom consisted of a sliver of the same silver material which barely covered her smooth, shaved groin and thinned out as it went further back and up the crack of Meredith’s luscious ass in the style of a G-string thong. Her utility belt changed into a series of small, golden drawstring pouches that loosely wrapped themselves around her hips, with the prominent twin-Venus belt buckle stationed below her belly button.

Finishing off the ensemble were her red gloves, which had shortened and become fingerless, to show off her manicured, vibrantly fire-engine-red painted nails. Casting her gaze downwards, Meredith discovered with satisfaction that her boots had transformed into black, open-toe, five-inch, spaghetti-strap heels and that her toenails had been given the same bright-red treatment as her fingernails.

Meredith couldn’t help but grab her mostly-naked breasts and play with them a little in the mirror. She let out a playful and lusty laugh as her red-nailed hands squeezed her large knockers. What a contrast to her earlier days, she mused. Meredith recalled a time as a youth, before her figure had blossomed, when she had been mocked and had felt rejected and inferior for being “flat”, and had both envied and feared large breasts. The mere sight of other girls having them had caused her distress and shame.

But that was the past, and her outlook now was quite the opposite. It was her friend Claire—whose own sizeable and gorgeous tits had on many occasions seized Meredith’s furtive interest during their early years together as roommates—whose presence, beauty, friendship—and love—had eventually instilled into Meredith her first appreciation for, comfort with, and love of large, lovely, womanly breasts. Then Meredith’s own body had fully matured, and she realized, as a late bloomer, that Mother Nature had simply been saving the best for last when it came to endowing her with womanly charms. Now that she had an exquisite D-cup-sized rack adorning her chest, she realized just how childish and unhealthy her previous mindset had been.

As she pawed her bikini-constrained, fleshy funbags, Meredith closed her eyes and could clearly hear her inner voice affirming her current opinion on the matter.

“Large tits are awesome.

“I love big hooters on a woman.

“I need to date women with huge, melon-sized funbags.

“I want to fuck women with large knockers.

“Having big tits is awesome.

“I will always seek to make my breasts as large as possible, and to display them freely to other women.”

After having enough fun with her tit play, Meredith’s eyes roamed further downwards to the reflection of her feminine hips. They were much fuller now than in the past, and, in conjunction with her large mammaries and exceptionally slender waist, gave her body a sexy hourglass figure. Her hands roamed downwards from her tits to her hips, on which they rested as Meredith swayed her pelvis side to side. Turning so her back was to the mirror, she marveled at how prominent and how gorgeous her ass now was, and she admired how particularly alluring it was in its exposed state, with a mere silver thread, as it were, holding her thong in place and running up in the crack of her ass, seeming to evenly divide her butt cheeks with an exotic symmetry. Turning again to the front, she espied, with a mischievous glee, that the thong did very little to cover the intimate female epicenter between her legs.

It occurred to Meredith that, if she were so inclined, she could easily hook an index finger under the bottom’s material and pull it aside, which would give some lucky woman a wonderful view of her naked pussy, or anus, or both.

Hmmm… not bad… Granted…I’m showing off a lot of skin…but then again…it’s not really a bad thing… No…in fact…it’s quite a good thing…a sexy thing… I should go like this more often… Maybe this should be my new, permanent costume… After all, it’s not like I need protective clothing…considering bullets bounce off of me……. Or…even better…I could fight crime naked…if I wanted to…

The naughty thought made Meredith giggle a little. While she had had her fair share of battles in which her clothing had been torn into shreds, rendering her, in the end, virtually naked, she had really never considered going out in the nude, at the start of a given adventure, to fight crime. The thought had never occurred to her…until now…and she liked it. Maybe next time, she thought to herself with a smile, as she pressed the button on her belt buckle which made the mirror disappear. After all, Meredith justified, Galatea was a role model to women all over the world…and what better way to inspire women into being confident with their Goddess-given bodies…and to use them freely for their intended purposes…their sexual purposes…than by flaunting hers around in its natural state?

Definitely another time…but…for now…this will do fine…

Satisfied with her new look, Meredith opened the door to the roof access, entered a stairwell inside the City Hall building, and descended towards Mayor Power’s office, enjoying the fierce bouncing of her almost-liberated breasts with every step down, especially when she passed by various news babes and female staff members who had lined the lower stairs and the hallways in anticipation of her arrival. As she then strutted like a runway model through the halls—her heels clacking clamorously on the hard marble floor, her long, smooth legs scissoring with each stride, her hips and ass swaying rhythmically, and her sexy boobs still gyrating audaciously, Meredith caught sight, with a little inward, knowing smirk, of numerous of the female onlookers giving her lustful scans. She even heard a few of them give her wolf whistles as she walked by.

If there were also men there, somewhere, they were in the background and out of sight, where they belonged, and neither Meredith nor anyone else there gave them a second thought.

Meredith felt erotic excitement. As her alter-ego, mousy Meredith, she had to play the part of a timid, no-fun, prudish girl, slaving away at the whims of the spoiled brat who ran the company, concealing her sexual beauty; but as Galatea she exuded her rightful sexual confidence, as this was her true form, the person she should be, and wanted to be, and truly was. A sly, red smile formed on her lovely, painted face as she basked in the wanton stares on the faces of the women she passed and made her seductive way to the mayor’s office.

Upon passing through the doors to the mayor’s office, Meredith saw the mayor’s secretary typing away on the computer at her desk. A beautiful young woman, she immediately caught Meredith’s eye, and she stopped to have a better look. On closer inspection, it struck the redhead that the secretary looked familiar…and then it clicked. It was her good friend, Jessica Harrison! Jessica had her honey-brown hair up in a professional bun, with a hair braid intricately woven around its base. Meredith took a stirring notice of the fetching cosmetics on Jessica’s face: rose-petal pink blush on her soft cheeks, her eyes adorned with black mascara accented by a purple-topaz eyeshadow, and her juicy lips covered in a generous application of frosted pink lipstick.

Jessica had on a bright crimson blazer jacket over a low-cut, pink satin button-up blouse. Meredith didn’t have to use her super vision to see Jessica’s large breasts trying to peek out. However, she did use it to see through the desk, whereupon she gawked at the daring, dark-blue mini skirt that stopped a good eight inches above her knees and at her smooth, sexy legs encased in sheer white stockings. With a little more concentration, Meredith took in the lacy pink thong panties Jessica wore underneath her skirt. She zeroed in on her friend’s crotch and detected a faint wet spot on the slick material between Jessica’s thighs, causing the heroine to smile to herself and to wonder who was on the secretary’s mind at the moment. My guess is…me. After all, she did know I was coming…and I know she likes me…

Meredith cleared her throat to announce her presence. Jolted by the sudden interruption from a fantasy about Galatea, as the superheroine had correctly speculated, Jessica looked up and stammered, “Oh! Galatea! oh!...uh…umm…welcome to City Hall!… I mean, you’re always, uh, welcome at City Hall… that is…I meant…uh… welcome, as in, to greet you… I mean, anything I can get you?… But I’m sure you have business here…”

Meredith always thought it was cute seeing Jessica stumble through her words whenever they met, the endearing crush she harbored being beyond obvious. There was an alluring charm the way Jessica behaved like that. Aside from being the mayor’s personal secretary, Jessica was president of the official Galatea Fan Club, and Meredith enjoyed the adoration that Jessica loved to shower on her. However, this was not the time to dilly-dally with this sweet specimen of femininity.

“I’m sorry, Jessica, but unfortunately this isn’t a personal visit. I’ve just received an alert from the mayor on my crisis watch. Think you can buzz me in?”

“Oh, yes, absolutely. Silly me, thinking you would want to visit a nobody like me.” The last sentence was spoken by Jessica as softly as possible, with a heavy tone of disappointment mixed in. However, the words and the emotional inflection weren’t lost on the superheroine with ultra hearing.

“Jessica is more than a friend. You want to date Jessica. You want Jessica to be your lesbian lover.

“You want to make love to Jessica. You want to kiss her lips. You want to explore her sexy body.

“You are a lesbian. You date pretty girls. You want sex with women and girls.”

Moved to compassion—mixed with lust—Meredith placed a reassuring, gloved hand on Jessica’s face and began to soothe her embarrassment away by gently brushing her cheek with her red-nailed thumb. Jessica looked into Meredith’s face with wonder as her idol caressed her face.

“Today is one of those busy days. However, I think I have some free time coming up in the next few days, pending nothing major happening. I would love to meet with my number one fan and President of the Galatea Fan Club…you know, to discuss some club related business…of course.” She winked at her awestruck devotee. “Think you’ll have some free time for me?”

Jessica’s mood spun completely around, and a look of pure elation overtook her face.

“Oh!...yes…yes!... I…I would!… I mean…off course!…absolutely! I would love to…uh… discuss…discuss club matters…with you.”

“Good…Then it’s a date!”

“Wow!...a ‘date’?!…with you?!...oh, yes!... I’ll make love to you!.... I mean…I’d love to date you!... I mean, meet with you… I’ll mark it on my calendar...Galatea…”

Meredith listened with an entertained sympathy to Jessica awkwardly stumble through her words.

“Great. Well, I best be going. It’s not wise to keep Mayor Powers waiting! Take care, Jessica…my dear friend…” She gave Jessica a beguiling smile, one pregnant with promise, before she turned away.

Meredith walked towards a pair of large, gleaming, solid-wood doors to Mayor Powers’s office. As she got closer she couldn’t help but hear Jessica mumble, “I’ll never wash this face again.”

After passing through the oak doors, Meredith was greeted by a marvelous sight. Mayor Powers sat behind her polished mahogany desk, tapping her fingers together, and she also saw her best friend, Claire Love-Livingston, who was the deputy mayor, standing next to Mayor Powers. Meredith loved their ravishing looks, and was awestruck by them yet again.

Mayor Powers had her long, pearly, ultra-light ash-blonde hair up in a formal hairstyle, framed today by exquisite, eye-catching braid work along the sides of Mayor Powers’s silky locks and by bands of hair colored gold and silver woven together into a fancy bun crowning the top of the glorious mass. Resisting the urge to scan the whole of the shapely woman with her ultra vision, Meredith did allow herself to indulge in eyeing the woman’s top half which was visible above the desk. Mayor Powers wore a semi-sheer blouse of candy-apple red satin, which showed off the most defining feature of the woman and of her magnificent body, her large, sexy breasts. The beautiful, fleshy orbs, held up in a skimpy, lacy black bra which was discernable through the thin material of the blouse, were displayed in an alluring fashion by the shockingly expansive v-neck cut of the blouse’s neckline. Meredith felt a strong urge to walk around the desk and help herself to the succulent-looking melons, sensing that the mayor wouldn’t mind at all if the superheroine played with them, but she resisted the temptation, though with difficulty, holding back because she was here on official business.

Tearing her eyes away from the scrumptious mayor, Meredith turned her attention to Claire, scanning her up and down, and found herself also overtaken with delighted wonder with Claire’s appearance. Her slim but voluptuous, foxy body was encased in a form-hugging, sleeveless mini-dress of shiny lavender spandex that showed off every sexy curve of her body. The hem of the dress’s skirt stopped about seven inches above Claire’s knees, while her legs were wrapped in sheer white stockings. Her eyes settled for a few seconds on her friend’s jutting breasts. Mmmmm, thought Meredith; my favorite part…by far…

After her eyes had ravished her best friend’s body, Meredith lifted her gaze higher. She was stunned by what she saw. Claire’s hair, which was up in an intricate ribbon hair bun style, was no longer raven black, but rather had been dyed blonde to match Mayor Powers’s glorious pearly, pale hair color. Meredith felt her pulse quicken and her nipples tingle at the sight, which affects only intensified when she scrutinized her friend’s beautiful face, which was adorned with thick mascara and dark purple eyeshadow, her delectable lips covered in thick coats of glossy maroon lipstick.

Wow… Claire… She looks sooo hot… Claire looks better as a blonde…much, much better… She’s awesome… She should have done this long ago… I should definitely compliment her on how sexy it makes her look… And she’s even hotter with makeup…and that tight, little dress…and…

Meredith paused internally for a second, wondering about the thought which had just popped into her head, and about Claire’s sexed-up appearance. A faint voice seemed to whisper for a moment a reminder that Claire was an advocate of natural beauty. However, the whisper and the brief uncertainty about Claire were abruptly drowned out and superseded by a much louder and more insistent voice within her, a strong voice, a sexy, feminine voice, conveying a different sentiment, teaching her the truth.

“Meredith—

“Claire is sexy.

“You love Claire.

“Claire turns you on.

“You want to be Claire’s lover.

“Claire looks sexier as a blonde.

“You love Claire more as a blonde.

“Blonde Claire turns you on even more.

“You want Claire to be a blonde.

“You want to see Claire as a blonde.

“You want Claire to dye her hair.

“Convince her to dye her hair.

“Claire also looks better with makeup.

“Claire should always wear makeup…bold makeup.

“Encourage her to wear more makeup.

“You’re not a good friend if you don’t encourage Claire to wear makeup.

“You need to remind Claire to always put on makeup.

“Claire looks much better wearing provocative clothes. You want to see her in revealing, skimpy, naughty, sexy attire, and you will encourage her to dress in such things.

“You want Claire to be a lesbian, and to be sexually loose. You will encourage and help her to be a lesbian and to be a sexually loose, slutty girl.

“You want sexy Claire to be your lesbian lover.

“You will encourage Claire to be a lesbian, and you’ll make it easy for her, by being sexy and tempting yourself.

“You want to make love to Claire…to Claire, the beautiful, made-up, morally loose, and sexy blonde.”

Meredith stood in blissful rapture, observing the two beauties before her. As she continued to ogle her friends lustfully, Meredith could feel her nipples harden and attempt to protrude through the small patches on her bikini top that covered them, followed by a pleasant, warm stirring between her legs. She had the urge to peel the little cups away, and then see what would happen. However, her licentious observations of the two and her decadent musings were interrupted by a polite cough from Claire.

Realizing she had been gawking, and embarrassed by her obvious distracted state—although she knew, somehow, that not only did Claire and the mayor not mind her eyeing them up, but they were highly delighted by it—Meredith snapped back into focus to proceed with the task at hand.

“Galatea, I’m so sorry to have disturbed you,” Mayor Powers began in a deferential tone, ”but I’m very glad you could make it.”

“No problem, Mayor Powers. You know that I’m always at the beck and call of Sapphire City and her citizens—and especially her beautiful, sexy mayor and deputy mayor.” Meredith uttered the last phrase with an innuendo reflective of her natural flirtatiousness, giving a friendly nod towards both Mayor Powers and Claire.

“Very glad to hear this, Galatea. Might I say that you look very fetching yourself…very…” Meredith saw the mayor’s eyes fix onto to her nearly-naked breasts and focus on her barely-covered nipples, a wistful, far-away expression washing over her face for a second—stirring within Meredith a pride in her perfect body, delight in the beautiful mayor’s obvious attraction to it, and gratification that she had worn this attire, which was making it easy for the beauty before her to appreciate her hot body—before she continued. “However…I didn’t summon you here to trade pleasantries. I regret to say that we are in dire need of your services.” After saying this, Mayor Powers turned to Claire and gave her a nod, signaling her to proceed with the debriefing.

“At roughly 10:30 this morning, one of Sapphire City’s prominent citizens was kidnapped by the vilest of fiends, The Misogynist, and is being held for ransom.” After saying this, Mayor Powers pressed a button on her desk, triggering a large landscape painting on the far side of the room to ascend, which uncovered a wide-screen video monitor, which came alive within moments with the image of a hideous, brutish, ape-like man.

“Him again! Eww!”

The villain’s skin was leathery, tanned to a splotchy redness, and pock-marked, especially along his cheeks. His nose looked like a deformed potato covered by rough, ugly flesh; patches of brown, red, and black hair stuck out in erratically-patterned clumps from an oily scalp; stained, crooked teeth caked with crusty, yellowish filth deformed his mouth into a snarling corruption; and his glaring, bloodshot eyes warned of a perpetual temper of savage hostility.

Meredith scowled when the image of one of her most hated foes appeared. She had dealt with the Misogynist numerous times in the past, and, each time she had put him down, she had prayed to Goddess that it would be the last time. But he was resilient and, it was becoming increasingly apparent to Meredith, the mayor, and others, that a more conclusive solution would need to be implemented.

The Misogynist had once been Dr. Gerald Hyde, a respected physician, who had become the victim of a clandestine science experiment gone wrong. Despite his tragic past, Meredith could no longer feel any sympathy for him. As their battles had raged on over time, Meredith had come to realize that Dr. Hyde’s brilliant mind was long gone and had been permanently replaced by a deranged, hostile persona, who believed that women belonged either on their backs or in the kitchen, existing only for the exploitive use of men, and, in particular, of himself. His driving, deluded goal clearly appeared to be the enslavement of all women, for the sadistic play and personal, selfish pleasure of himself and of other men.

“Heard that he escaped from prison a few days ago. Been looking for him whenever I got the chance, but I figured he would lay low to lick his wounds after our last battle. But it wouldn’t surprise me if he wanted revenge, and wanted to try to climb back to the top of his sordid mound of cow manure.”

“Yes, Galatea, we speculated that might have been the motive for the kidnapping,” offered Claire. “According to our reports, his last battle with you left his reputation damaged and his resources severely depleted. With so little to work with, he has resorted to a bold strike like this to capture attention, generate fear, and jump-start the rebuilding of his criminal empire.”

“Time is of the essence,” Meredith stated with urgency. “Who’s the poor, unfortunate citizen who is in the vile fiend’s clutches and in dire need of rescue?”

With another tap on her desk, a new image appeared on the screen. Meredith let out a gasp. It was Monica Morales, head of Morales Industries. Meredith was stunned by this revelation, for, in her civilian, mousy-girl persona, Meredith served as a personal assistant to this woman…and she was a major pain in her ass. In the course of her job, Meredith was beholden to whatever whim struck Monica’s fancy, and many of those dictates ranged from annoying to humiliating.

She also had to deal with Monica as Galatea, inasmuch as the superheroine had a commercial side in addition to a heroic side, reaping various lucrative endorsement contracts as Sapphire City’s favorite daughter, and Monica’s company wanted to be one of her sponsors. Although Galatea already had what she considered a sufficient number of sponsors, and had turned Monica down, Monica had nevertheless been pursuing Galatea with a determined barrage of offers to the point of being insufferable, endeavoring to sign the pretty heroine up for a gaggle of media ads, social media shout-outs, and marketing letters. Thus, even to Galatea, Monica had become a nag. Both identities in her life would be more peaceful for Meredith if she could somehow get the Monica factor of her life under some kind of control.

Then again…she didn’t want to completely remove Monica Morales from her life, she reminded herself as she examined the picture of Monica on the display. It was a glamor shot of the Latina flashing her pearly whites, with her face having a nice application of cosmetics, including pale pink lipstick, her raven locks all tied up in an elegant updo, pearl jewelry dangling from her neck and ears, and a silky, low-cut, chemise-like hot-pink blouse showing off a daring amount of cleavage.

Hmmmm… She may be obnoxious in some ways…but…she’s really, really hot…

A strong mental voice suggested to her that she wanted a better relationship with the bodacious Hispanic fox…a relationship in which there could be unfettered access to that sexy body…but without having to put up with her annoying traits…

“Meredith—

“You are a lesbian.

“You love sexy women. You want them to desire you. Be beautiful for them and show them your sexy body.

“You love Monica. She is a very beautiful and sexy woman, your kind of woman. You want to be very intimately close. Sexually close. You want sex with her. You want her to be your lesbian lover. She will be your lesbian lover.

“You want Monica to look at you…with lust.. You want Monica to desire you.

“You crave Monica’s attention. You will wear cosmetics and provocative clothes. You’d like to show Monica and other desirable women your naked body. You will do whatever is required to capture Monica’s attention and to make her lust for you.

“You enjoy looking at Monica’s sexy body. Monica is so hot. You long to see her body completely naked. You want to feel it, kiss it, ravage it, and fuck it.

“Monica is too willful and stubborn. She needs to be broken. She needs you to break her, to tame her, to subdue her, to control her. She needs a beautiful dominant woman, such as yourself, to seduce her, to bend her with sexy allure, to ensnare her heart in a web of lesbian love, to take her captive in a net of lust, and to make her a whimpering little plaything for your sexual pleasure. Make her worship you and give herself to you, body and soul, completely and without reservation.

“You want to mold Monica to suit your desires. You will beguile her with your body and your beauty until she is totally bewitched by you, until she obeys you without question, until she is yours, to command and to play with as you please.”

Meredith started to consider more extensively the advantages of being around Monica. As Monica’s P.A., Meredith had relatively unfettered access to the Latina beauty and spent a lot of time together with her. Meredith reflected how Monica would always wear some kind of risqué business outfit and flaunted her sex appeal with obvious enjoyment wherever she went, dragging Meredith along. Many had been the occasions on which the redhead had been able to catch a breathtaking view down Monica’s blouse and taken in other careless displays of the woman’s curvaceous body.

An additional perk relating to Monica was one she derived from being Galatea, for Monica almost worshiped the superheroine. Meredith savored the adoration Monica would heap on her, taking a naughty pleasure in the way the Latina hottie chased after her.

It was almost as if the dark-haired beauty had a crush on Galatea, it occurred to Meredith. No…not almost…it was quite clear… She did. And the fascination was unmistakably romantic and sexual. These realizations gave the redhead a thrill. She felt it, too, maybe not a crush, per se, but a definite powerful attraction, one full of both romantic feelings and sharp lust for the Latina.

Such feelings, Meredith knew, were natural for a lesbian such as she knew herself to be. But then Meredith reflected for a moment on the seeming incongruity of Monica’s crush, given that Monica was straight—despite it being true that few straight women remained in Sapphire City—or, at least, she had always had that reputation.

Well…maybe it’s just me she likes… Maybe she’s just dazzled by my beauty… In that case, I’m glad I’m so beautiful… Or maybe she’s just telling herself she’s straight…and, deep down, she really isn’t…or maybe she is, but doesn’t want to be… It might take someone like myself…to help her see the light…to lure her over the edge… Hmmmm…

Meredith fantasized for a moment what might happen if she flew onto the balcony outside Monica’s bedroom one night…and the sliding glass door was open…with Monica standing just inside…her beautiful long, black hair down and loose, blowing in the wind… in a sheer negligee…waiting for her…

“...and so, as you can see, that’s why it’s of utmost importance we rescue Ms. Morales as soon as possible. So, Galatea do you happen to have any insight you can add to our rescue plan?”

To her chagrin, Meredith had been caught daydreaming. With a quick visual check, it seemed, to her relief, that Mayor Powers and Claire were unaware of her fantasizing about Monica as they discussed her kidnapping. Now it was a matter of making it look like she had paid adequate attention during the whole conversation.

“At a glance, the plan appears sound, and, I agree, time is of the essence…especially to rescue someone as important”—and as beautiful—“as Ms. Morales. I think we should go over it one more time to see if we can see any flaws that could give the fiend an escape or advantage.”

“Good thinking, Galatea,” Claire responded, none the wiser, Meredith discerned, about her lapse in focus. “Granted, Police Chief O’Brien came up with the plan on the fly, but I think it will work, although there might be some improvements we can make in it.”

With Meredith paying rapt attention this time, Claire once again went over the plan to rescue Monica. The plan involved an undercover officer acting as an envoy to deliver the ransom, one hundred million dollars, at the Misogynist’s drop-off location. After the delivery was made and the approaching Misogynist was spotted, the officer would signal for Galatea and the police to close in, apprehend the villain, and, thereby, secure Monica’s release. Meredith nodded her head as Claire went over each point in the plan.

“The plan is good,” Meredith concluded, “but I think it would be better if we make the following changes: First, I think it would be better if I made the drop-off. The Misogynist is a crafty one, and I can react quicker than the officer. Also, it’s best that the police stay a good distance away from the drop-off site. Given how desperate he is, if he catches wind of a police presence, he might do something crazy that would escalate the situation and put Ms. Morales in greater danger. I think it’s best to wait until I take the Misogynist down, and then the police can arrive to take the fiend away.”

After weighing Galatea’s suggestions, both the Mayor and Claire nodded their lovely, pale-blonde heads in agreement. Communicating the last-minute changes to Chief O’Brien, they ordered the ransom to be delivered to the mayor’s office and from there they would pin their hopes for a successful rescue on Galatea.

A short time later, Meredith flew off with six large, filled, heavy-duty duffel bags, three in each arm, to the drop-off site specified by the Misogynist in his ransom demand, an abandoned warehouse in the industrial section of Sapphire City. Coming to a mid-air stop a mile from the site, Meredith used her telescopic vision to survey the area surrounding the warehouse for any hidden thugs or traps. While she didn’t see anything that aroused her suspicion, she knew that didn’t mean that the Misogynist didn’t have some kind of underhanded trick up his sleeve.

She then turned her focus on the warehouse itself, and, using her x-ray ability, she took a look inside. She immediately espied Monica tied spread-eagle to a bedframe and the Misogynist pacing back and forth next to her. Wary of what might happen next, Meredith flew cautiously to the warehouse.

She burst through the roof with a loud crash, breaking through steel and concrete as if it were merely wet cardboard, and landed with a dramatic impact on the concrete floor. Dropping the duffel bags, Meredith flew over to Monica, and was almost dazed by what she saw. As mentioned, each of Monica’s legs and arms was bound by a coarse rope to one of the four bedposts, stretching her lithe, curvaceous body out in a most blatant display. The lovely victim was stripped down to her transparent white lace bra and panties. Meredith could see Monica’s voluptuous breasts in detail, and stood in awe by how wondrously they were elevated on her chest and nearly popping out of her bra due to the raised and tightly-stretched posture of her arms, and by their heaving up and down as she took ragged breaths. Forcing herself to tear her eyes away from that mesmerizing sight, Meredith’s gaze traced down the smooth body to Monica’s long legs, wrapped in smooth, white nylon stockings suspended by a matching white lace garter, and shod in shiny, ankle-strap, four-inch dark-red high-heeled pumps. Zeroing in on the junction between the bound woman’s legs, as if it were the most natural next thing to do, Meredith felt herself flush with lust when she saw how little of the Latina’s lush, spread-open slit was concealed by the tiny strip of sheer white fabric overlaying it.

Having heard the crash through the roof and seen Galatea approach, Monica, who appeared to have been exerting herself strenuously to break free from her restrictive bonds, relaxed with an infusion of relief and beamed fondly at her beloved savior.

“Monica—

“Meredith is looking at you. She loves your body. She loves your big tits. You are so very proud of them, and love her looking at them. Let her look. You want her looking at your body and desiring you. You are a lesbian. You crave sex with her. Lure her into your bed. You love Meredith.”

“Galatea! Oh, I’m…I’m so glad to see you!”

But not as glad as I am to see you! the redhead mused wantonly. “At your service, miss, as always!” She stood there a second, enjoying another survey of the luscious body laid out before her and debating whether she should untie the Latina immediately or leave her in this condition of vulnerability, arousing exposure a bit longer.

“Not so fast, Gala-slut!” the Misogynist snarled in his beastly, rasping, ugly, masculine voice. ”I thought I told Mayor Whore not to get you involved! Just as well, though… I prepared in case that dumb bitch should contact you. And, oh yeah, I wouldn’t try to use your super strength to let her go…not before I say so…unless you want to see what happens to her if ya do…”

Meredith felt a spike of anger as the Misogynist hurled the passing insult at Mayor Power. The beautiful mayor was a close and admired friend, and having this filthy…man…speak of her in such a disrespectful manner did not settle well with her. She balled her fingers into fists, ready to teach this vulgar freak a lesson he won’t soon forget. However, now that she had let the opportunity to unbind the black-haired fox pass by before the Misogynist interfered, and he might have booby-trapped some part of the setup there anyway, she felt she had to negotiate Monica’s release first, to avoid unforeseen harm to the Latina should she attempt to force her freedom now.

“Mayor Powers felt it would be wise that I get involved. I, more than anyone else, know that you are not to be trusted, and I know you’re full of tricks. And, as you well know, I have defeated you every time we have faced each other. Just the same, you foul creature, we have catered to your demand for ransom. I brought it, and here it is. Now let Monica go!”

The Misogynist first sneered at Meredith, then his cracked lips formed into a twisted, sick grin. His facial contortions dislodged some ancient blobs of mucus from the hairy nostrils of his bulbous nose, which tumbled down his filthy shirt to the floor along with several goobers of putrid, slimy drool which leaked from his decayed mouth. Meredith and Monica were revulsed.

“Meredith—and—Monica—

“Men are disgusting. Men are loathsome. Men are dirty. Men are deceitful. Men are brutal. All men are like the Misogynist. You hate men.”

“Looks like you know me well,” the Misogynist scoffed, as he grabbed his groin with his right hand and made a vulgar gesture. Meredith felt her skin crawl. “How about you make yourself useful, Gala-bitch, and bring me my money, and do a sexy little walk while you’re at it. But don’t do anything you’ll regret. If you look at my left hand, I’m holding a remote detonator. I took the liberty of lining Ms. Morales’s bed with some good ol’ plastic explosives and I rigged it with a quantum switch. I’ll introduce our mutual friend to a C-4 massage before you can even think a nasty thought about me.”

It looked like the Misogynist had Meredith against the ropes. However, she had overcome his wiles before, and, as on numerous previous occasions, a plan to outwit him was starting to form in her head. But, she saw, she had one chance and she had to make it count, and part of that single route was to submit, for the time being, to the Misogynist. So, although she was averse to complying with the directive of the slobbish villain, Meredith picked up the bags and minced towards the hideous man-beast with a sexy strut.

Meredith felt like vomiting when she briefly imagined what perversities might be passing through the Misogynist’s head as she made her way over. One realization, however, gave the situation an unexpected measure of enjoyment, that being the understanding that Monica was also observing her sexy walk, and focusing on that favorable aspect enabled the superheroine to not only continue to the completion of her sordid assignment, but to do so with some relish, and to add some flair to the swing of her hips and her legs.

As she approached her foe, she used a combination of her x-ray vision and telescopic vision to scan the remote device in the Misogynist’s gnarled hand.

She found what she was looking for and, with one blink, sent a precision energy beam from her eyes into a section of the remote device, completely disabling it. The Misogynist howled in agony as it exploded in his hand. Then, in a series of blurred motions, she slammed him with a series of forceful punches and kicks until, rendered quite helpless, he collapsed.

“You hate this man. You hate all men. They’re all vile. They all disgust you. You can’t trust them. You don’t want them. Put them in their place. Smash them down. Neuter them. Throw them out.”

Standing over her defeated foe, Meredith felt quite fed up with this particular, disgusting criminal. Every time she put the Misogynist in prison, he would find some way to escape and start this wretched dance all over again. She had had enough…so she resumed pummeling him mercilessly, slamming her fists over and over into his repulsive, oily, acne-riddled hide. This time, she told herself, she was going to end this permanently. His arms broken beyond use, he had no means of even partially deflecting the beating Galatea was raining down upon him. It took all of his strength for the broken man to plead for his life.

“Mer…. mercy!… Please… I be… beg of you… Mercy!”

“Mercy?! You have the audacity to beg me for mercy! After all that you’ve done to womankind, you think you deserve mercy?! Sorry, Misogynist. Me putting you in jail over and over, instead of simply killing you, which I easily could have done at any time, has been mercy. But it hasn’t done you any good. This time I’m ending you…. forever.”

Meredith saw the lumpy, misshapen, beaten face of the Misogynist contort with pure terror as her words settled in. Normally, Galatea would never take joy in what she was about to do. She was a superhero, and had a moral code by which she abided, providing a shining example for all; but she was also a human being, one who had emotional limits, and today she just reached hers. So, right now, Meredith was taking great delight in seeing the Misogynist cower before her before she administered his well-deserved, final doom. The Misogynist looked up with anxious horror as he noticed Galatea’s eyes change from a calm grey into a bright, raging red, causing him to wet his pants and howl in fear.

With intense concentration, Meredith used her eyebeams with surgical precision as she began to lobotomize the defeated Misogynist, vaporizing chunks of brain tissue within his grotesque skull here and there. When she had entirely obliterated the neural regions responsible for arousal and sexual pleasure, in addition to certain other areas, she stopped, and her task successfully completed. She had done it. The Misogynist would no longer terrorize the citizens of Sapphire City. In his place was a passive, animal-like drone, who could do little more than drool and stare.

“Monica—

“Meredith is your hero. She is stronger and smarter than you. You need her to protect you and to guide you. You owe Meredith so much. You want to repay her. You should be submissive to her. You will honor her…with your respect …and gratitude…and obedience…and love…and with your sexy body…”

With her grim task completed, Meredith made her way over to Monica and began to untie her. The moment she finished freeing Monica’s arms, Meredith felt them wrap themselves around her and Monica ardently crush her warm, nubile body into hers.

“Galatea… Oh, thank Goddess that you came!”

“You desire Meredith. You are a lesbian. She is so very beautiful…and so very sexy. You are infatuated with her. You feel lust for her body. You want to feel her body with yours. Shove your sexy breasts into hers. Make her desire you. You belong together, as lovers. You want sex with her. You are a sexy and slutty lesbian. You are falling in love with Meredith.”

Meredith felt Monica press her curvaceous young-adult body a bit harder into her own lush curves. She found she was particularly sensitive to and thrilled by the urgent thrust of Monica’s large, supple breasts into her own, and by the way Monica’s body was in a near state of nakedness. Monica found herself rubbing her womanly tits into and against her redheaded companion’s, and both women felt a pleasurable tingle invade between their legs. An urge raced over Meredith to sweep Monica’s sweet, heavy orbs into her hands, but she resisted the impulse…at least for the time being.

“Did… did he do anything…anything inappropriate…with you?”

“No…he didn’t…thanks to you!” Monica could not restrain herself from bending down and kissing Galatea’s smooth, slim belly, causing both women to utter a soft little moan. “The fiend didn’t do anything other than destroy an exclusive De La Renta business suit. That monster said he was saving me for later…” Monica then spat in the freshly lobotomized Misogynist’s direction.

Words passed through Meredith’s and Monica’s minds simultaneously, with a mental intonation of pure disgust: …men… what pigs… I hate them…

Meredith felt an urge to be alone in a private and more romantic setting with Monica. “Let’s get you out of here. He’s not going anywhere. The police can mop up.” On Meredith’s command, her cape detached from her costume, lengthened, and become a de facto blanket that wrapped itself comfortingly around Monica. Gently picking the young woman up, Meredith flew off towards Morales Tower in the heart of the commercial district in Sapphire City.

Shortly, Meredith and her curvy cargo arrived at the penthouse level of Monica’s grand tower. Landing softly on an extravagantly large balcony, Meredith gently helped Monica gain her footing. Even with Monica’s body enwrapped, for the time being, in Meredith’s cape—which was shrinking, inasmuch as Meredith had unconsciously willed it to gradually return to it’s normal, abbreviated size—Meredith was transfixed by Monica’s glamorous, undulating beauty as she strolled into the living room of her suite and then into the adjoining study, Meredith following her and ogling her backside without quite realized she was doing so. Meredith’s eyes fixated with a sexually-hungry gaze as she watched the Hispanic fox’s hips sway enticingly under her shortening cape with every step.

Reminding herself of her duty to protect this lovely Latina woman, Meredith scanned the suite with her super-powered eyes in case the Misogynist had left any kind of surprise. Perceiving nothing of potential harm, Meredith walked up to Monica, until they—two beautiful, sexy, nearly naked, women—were standing within a couple of feet of each other. The sexual tension which had been building between them for, essentially, all of their time together this day, now started to mount to a completely new level.

“Everything seems to be fine here. Think you’ll be okay?”

Monica stood frozen in the middle of the study and remained silent, able only to gaze adoringly into the transfixing blue eyes of her cherished rescuer. Then, with a slight turn of her manicured hand, she released the now-diminutive cape, and let it slide off her body.

The obvious invitation to ogle her body, and to do so this time without the stress of a hostage situation, was one Meredith could not possibly have resisted in this moment. She took her time, noticing the intimate details of Monica’s undergarments—a white silk lace bra and matching thong panties, featuring lace trim embroidered with a rose pattern and flimsy silk material diaphanously, barely covering Monica’s intimate areas—and the smooth, curvy flesh which they framed. She also wore sheer white nylons, a frilly white garter belt, and red high heels. Monica took a step backward and spun all the way around, slowly, one time, to better show herself off to the woman she was intent on luring into her bed.

“Sta… stay with me.” Monica turned to face Meredith, and took two little steps toward her, small tears running down her face through her mascara and eyeshadow. Before Meredith could say anything, Monica rushed to close the narrow gap between them, and embraced her in a tight hug. Meredith could feel Monica’s body tremble, and wrapped her arms around the Latina with a warm embrace of her own.

Meredith knew, or thought she knew, Monica to be a heterosexual woman, one of the last such women in Sapphire City, and so she assumed that Monica’s invitation to stay was a request for nocturnal protection, rather than for a night of lesbian sex—despite the crush Monica clearly held for her, despite the tease the Latina had clearly offered in displaying her lush body, and despite the ardor of her embrace.

“Alright.”

Not having expected, quite, to end up in the arms of the beautiful Latina tonight like this, but elated that it had happened, she reflected on the reasons she had agreed to her sexy companion’s proposition: a sense of duty, to protect one of the citizens of the city, of course; it felt right; and, quite honestly, sheer carnal attraction. As she considered the woman clinging to her, it became clearer to Meredith that she had wanted this for some time…that she had wanted to be closer, much closer, to Monica Morales…that she loved her… Spending the night with her, however it turned out, would be a glorious opportunity…to become…more intimate........and…to control her…as it was her right…

Meredith felt Monica nuzzle her head against her large bosom, calling back the pleasant tingle in her pussy she had felt before, but this time stronger. Right here and right now Meredith had her boss, the bane of her existence, acting like a lost little, love-sick puppy, and in the palm of her hand. An urge—no, more, a need deep within— was telling her that she shouldn’t pass this opportunity up…that it was high time that she establish dominance over the caramel-skinned beauty quivering in her arms and overcome by a deep-seated crush.

Gently disengaging their comforting embrace, Meredith pushed Monica lightly back. “You know, Monica,” Meredith whispered sultrily as she looked into Monica’s dark brown eyes, “they say that the hero always gets a kiss from the damsel she rescues.”

Monica readily fathomed Meredith’s innuendo and leaned in for a kiss. Meredith, having believed Monica to be straight, basically, was therefore a little surprised by how willing Monica was and how easily she agreed to kiss another girl, and felt elated that she apparently had such an erotic effect on her so as to seemingly undermine the Latina’s heterosexual constitution. Monica leaned in for her first lesbian kiss.

While Meredith assumed this was Monica’s first time to kiss another girl, her memory suddenly told her that this was not to be her own first time. Yes… It has been a while, Meredith mentally reminded herself. She remembered now that she had locked lips intimately with many beautiful females throughout her young life. From friends and teachers in middle and high schools to more recent and closer friends, such as Jessica, Mayor Powers, Claire…and even females in her family, like her own mother. And now she was going to add the incredibly desirable Monica Morales to that list.

Within a few days, slithered a deep, sultry, feminine voice from both Meredith’s and Monica’s subconscious, it will be real...you’ll kiss…and more…

When their lips at last met, both felt a surge of passionate electricity. The young women falling rapidly into a mutual locking of lush, painted lips and a joining of wet tongues, Meredith found her hands, as if with a mind of their own, roaming sensually over Monica’s body until they settled on her fabulous ass. She gave the succulent flesh a playful squeeze, which, in turn, elicited a lustful moan from Monica into her open mouth. Monica’s hands, in the meantime, had gravitated directly onto Meredith’s firm behind almost from the moment her lips had made contact with Meredith’s, and they were now playing with wondrous abandon with the firm ass-meat in her greedy possession. Aside from the sheer and novel fun of playing with another girl’s ass—and what a wonderful ass it was—Monica’s ploy was to keep her sexy companion’s arousal stoked, to further draw Meredith into her sexually-charged body, and to prolong their long, deep, delectable kiss indefinitely.

Seductive thoughts raced through Meredith’s mind: Even though Monica’s been straight…she’s hot for me… I’m going to convert her…all the way… I want her to become a lesbian…my lesbian lover… I’m going to make love to her… She’ll never be the same again…

At the same time, Monica felt her old straight, assertive, and independent personality start to melt away. I…I love her so much… I love kissing her…and holding her… I want more…more of her love…more of her body… I never knew I could want a woman like this… I will change…however she wants me to be… For her…I would become a lesbian… I think I’m becoming one right now… I want her body… I want sex with her… She’s so hot…

Some time later, the wet, slurping sounds of lust’s heavy kisses continued to fill the penthouse study, both young women eagerly perpetuating their oral assault on each other. Finally, however, despite her desire to prolong this, their cherished first kiss, and her first kiss as a budding lesbian, Monica gently disengaged herself from the erotic embrace. Meredith gave Monica a puzzled look, trying to comprehend why Monica would not want to continue this pleasurable exchange.

“Why did you stop? Is something wrong?”

“No… I mean look, Galatea. You’re a great-looking gal, and any woman would be fortunate to have you as her girlfriend…but...” Meredith liked the direction of Monica’s words, revealing she was entertaining the possibility of the two of them entering into a relationship beyond mere friendship, and beyond a round of hot kissing, yet she could clearly see that something was bothering Monica, that her emotions were tearing at her.

This Monica, whom Meredith was seeing today, the vulnerable, tender, love-struck version, was surprisingly different from her business persona. As her personal assistant, Meredith knew that Monica the businesswoman had a pride which would hardly ever let her display uncontrolled emotions, as that would be considered a sign of weakness. It was both highly interesting to see Monica now behaving with almost the opposite mentality to that which she normally manifested. Meredith found that seeing her meek, grateful, and timid was quite arousing.

“I’m just so…so…unworthy of you. Look at the mess I got myself into. I’m just so very fortunate that you came to rescue me. What that horrid creature planned for me…I shudder to think… Who knows what would have happened…but didn’t…because of you…” Once again, tears came to the raven-haired beauty’s eyes.

“It’s alright, Monica. You had no idea that this would happen to you. You can’t blame yourself for this.” Meredith gently drew her companion in and settled Monica’s head on her large, soft breasts again, both to reassure the Latina beauty, as well as to reestablish erotic contact with her. Monica purred into Meredith’s chest in the wake of hearing Meredith absolve her from any wrongdoing, and in the renewed delight of nestling her face into the creamy, almost-naked orbs of this bewitching redheaded fox.

“Thanks,” she mumbled into the smooth, bulging mammary flesh sliding against her mouth. “You don’t know how much that means to me. You know, when I helped the Misogynist escape, I thought I bit off more than I could chew…but I see that it worked out in the end.”

As soon as Monica inadvertently confessed that she had a hand in the Misogynist’s escape, a look of appalled shock immediately appeared on Meredith’s face and she took a couple of steps back from the young woman in her arms.

“You… what?!” Gone was the playful, lusty tone in Meredith’s voice. Now in its place was one filled with harsh anger and agitation. “Of all the dumb shit you could pull… Do you have any idea how close you came to being… By the Goddess, do you have any idea what could have happened, you stupid, stuck-up bitch?!”

Meredith was doing everything she could to remain under control—initiating meditative breathing exercises through her flared nose, clenching and unclenching her fists, and focusing her eyes into a narrow, anger-fueled stare on Monica’s cowering, semi-naked, foxy form. Nevertheless, Monica’s revelation that she had secretly aided Galatea’s arch-nemesis escape from prison was close to setting the redhead off into an uncontrolled rage. While Meredith didn’t enjoy, but did tolerate, barely, Monica’s elitist attitude and thoughtless antics, this one took the cake. However, the superheroine realized, as she looked her companion over yet again, there was one thing capable of defusing Meredith’s ire to some degree, and it was doing so even now—Monica’s nubile body.

Look at that bitch’s body. Total babe material right there.

Skin so smooth…willing to bet it feels like silk. Bet that bitch never got spanked when she was a kid. No wonder she’s such a spoiled brat.

“Meredith—

“Monica is too proud… She needs to be humbled… She has been bad… She needs punishment… She needs to be spanked… She needs you to spank her…

“You are a lesbian… You love her sexy body… You want her sexy body… Subject it to you…to use as you wish… Her excuses don’t matter… All that matters is that her body needs to be sexually molested…and disciplined…by a lesbian…by you…

“Break her pride… Subject her to your will… Make her obey you… You are her superior… Make her your plaything… Make her your lesbian whore… Spank her… Fuck her…”

Meredith’s mind returned abruptly to that word she had just thought—“spanked”—and, as Meredith considered it, a small, evil, gleeful smile appeared on her face. She focused her attention more intently on Monica, who felt a mixture of fear, shame, and a nice, liberal dash of lust as she observed the domineering hero close the small gap that was between them.

“Look, Galatea, I’m very sorry. I know that what I did was reckless, dangerous, and could have gotten innocent people hurt, but it’s just…” Before she could finish her excuse, Meredith placed her finger on Monica’s luscious lips and said, “Shhhhh. Not in the mood for excuses. I think a proper punishment is going to be the remedy for your blatant disregard for the law and her agents.”

Monica had only wanted Galatea’s attention…and whatever “extras” might come along with that. She had thought that liberating the Misogynist and then playing the part of the damsel in distress would be a great way for her to get to know Galatea better, and to win both her sympathy, and, perhaps, her love, during the rescue that was sure to follow. She was right, it had worked out that way up to this point, but she had badly miscalculated the level of evil and harm, actual and potential, which she had unleashed—an evil typical of all men, she had the distinct impression—and she had never intended for Galatea to discover her role as an accomplice. I’m sooo stupid…

“G…Galatea… Please… I’m more than willing to make reparations for this fiasco, but let’s not get other parties involved.”

“Oh, don’t worry your pretty little head about others finding out. I think this one will definitely be between just you and me.”

“Monica—

“You are too haughty… You need to be humbled…You have been naughty… You need to be punished… You want to be humbled…and punished…by Meredith… She is your superior… It is her right to control her…to humble you…to punish you…to make you obey… You want to be punished by her…and to obey her… It turns you on… She turns you on… You are a lesbian… You want to belong to her… You want her to punish you… to use you…to fuck you…You’d love to have sex with her… You want her to make you have sex with her… You want her to punish and to fuck you, you beautiful lesbian whore…”

Despite Meredith’s reassuring words, there nevertheless seemed to be a chilling, threatening current in Meredith’s tone. But, for Monica, there was something rather arousing about that, as well as about the “you and me” aspect of her statement. Monica felt a shiver go up her spin and an excited tingle pulse between her legs. Meredith took note of Monica’s hard, firm nipples trying to pierce the bra by which they were covered and a faint trace of wetness showing up in the panties between her legs.

“I…I’m glad to hear that,” Monica panted. “It’s nice of you...to keep a level head throughout this whole incident… Maybe I can make a nice, sizeable donation to a charity on your behalf as a start....”

“You can start by walking over to that desk and bending over.”

Meredith took notice of Monica’s shocked expression after hearing her command, but she wasn’t going to let the Latina hottie squirm her way out of this.

“I’m not going to repeat myself. Either you march yourself and bend over that desk, or we go straight to Mayor Powers and let her in on how this fiasco started in the first place. Also, don’t bother to threaten me by screaming for help. I happen to know that you soundproofed all the rooms here. Besides…I have super powers. Who could stop me?”

Monica tried to reply but was at a loss for words in the face of Galatea’s unstoppable might and the knowledge Galatea seemed to posses about her personal abode.

“In case you’re wondering, Meredith and I happen to know each other…on a very intimate level…and the stories she told me about you…”

Meredith could see the look of troubled surprise on Monica’s face and couldn’t help but smirk at the irony of the situation. Here in her absolute control was the high and mighty Monica Morales, who treated Meredith in her mundane, mousy facade with disdain, thinking the girl’s lower social status justified such behavior, and yet who, oblivious to Meredith’s dual identity, was in awe of the same woman in her superheroine persona, and chased after Galatea like a trembling, crush-smitten schoolgirl.

Unable to come up with an excuse or an appeal which would be likely to stall the redhead, Monica resigned herself to her fate and slowly made her way to her large oak desk, her head drooping like a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar and marching to her just punishment, giving her disciplinarian an apologetic look as she passed, though it did nothing to soften Meredith’s stern resolve. Upon arriving at her destination, Monica did as Meredith had demanded and bent herself over, letting out a small gasp as she felt the cold chill of the wood pass through the thin material of her bra, causing her nipples to further harden against the hard wooden countertop.

Monica heard the click and clack of Meredith’s heels on the marbled floor. As the sound drew closer, she turned her head slightly, intending to plead for leniency and be spared whatever punishment Meredith had in mind, but the movement was met with an immediate command ordering her to face forward, away from Meredith, and the Latina beauty silently did as she was told.

Meredith marveled at the beautiful, panty-clad rump facing her. A new, rising lust, reinvigorated by the sight and by her plans for that heavenly posterior caused her anger to slowly be supplanted, to some degree, by an erotic pleasure pulsing between her legs. Meredith ran an index finger precisely and slowly at first, then swiftly, through the crevice between Monica’s buttcheeks, eliciting a small moan from her.

“You will only speak when given permission. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y...yes…” Monica said in a shaky, high-pitched voice.

Meredith seductively slid her left hand under the silk material of the crotch panel of Monica panties and settled her red-nailed fingertips into the moistening slit between her legs, her middle finger softly tapping Monica’s clit. Meredith could easily sense Monica’s excitement and speculated that Monica was probably expecting a continuation of standard erotic pleasure through customary sexual play, although lesbian acts of this type would undoubtedly be new for her. However, the poor woman had no idea that Meredith had an additional type of pleasure and a more callous kind of play in mind.

“Monica, were you ever spanked as a child?”

Focused as she was on Monica’s large, firm, bubble butt, Meredith didn’t notice the color drain from Monica’s face after she asked the foreboding question. Unhappy with the prolonged silence, Meredith raised her hand off of Monica’s ass a bit and flicked the tender skin sharply with her red-nailed index finger. Monica instinctively winced as she felt a foreign sting jolt across her butt.

“I asked you a question, Monica. Please don’t make me repeat myself. I already told you that I don’t like to do that.”

“N..no. I’ve never been spanked.” There was a fearful tone in Monica’s response, but, embedded within that tone, Meredith thought she detected a hint of excited lust, as well.

“That explains a lot. I’m sure you can already guess where this is going. I figure a nice twenty smacks on this naughty bottom of yours will teach you the lesson you deserve.”

“Please…don’t…” Before she could complete her plea for mercy, Monica let out another quick gasp as Meredith again flicked her ass.

“Now you’ve made it twenty five. I told you that you don’t speak unless I tell you to.”

The only thing that could be heard was Monica’s heavy breathing as she tried her best to remain quiet. That containment was made all the harder by the attraction which she secretly harbored towards Galatea, Monica having entertained many fantasies of lesbian trysts with the powerful superhero, despite her hetero reputation. However, Monica had never imagined a scenario like this one, in which the woman she yearned for would dominate her, causing novel feelings to course through her veins, different ones from those she experienced in past masturbating sessions featuring imagery of the redhead in more conventional settings. It was exciting, new, something she had never considered in her life. Monica felt as if she was being liberated. Enticed by the new feelings, Monica raised her ass slightly higher, this time her anticipation being laced with more exhilaration than trepidation.

“Good girl. Now you’re getting it.”

With one smooth, quick motion, Meredith tore off Monica’s scanty panties, finally exposing the entirety of the hot Latina’s fleshy buns, anus, and wet pussy to Meredith’s hungry glare. She licked her lips as she took in the sight of Monica’s ass exposed and vulnerable like the day she was born. Now the real fun can begin, Monica thought as she grabbed each buttcheek firmly in her hands and gave them a squeeze. Monica was doing her best to stifle the moan aching to come out, as she felt Galatea molest her butt like a woman possessed.

After spending a few more minutes groping the supple behind, which included giving Monica’s exposed buttcheeks a sensuous rub, Meredith raised her right hand several inches above the luscious rear and paused, elevating Monica’s anticipation to an exquisite boil. “And now we move on to the fun part…well, fun for me, at least.” She suspected that Monica might end up regarding their pending activity as a kind of fun, too. “I’ll try to make this quick…but I have a sneaky suspicion that you might not want this to stop.”

Down came the hand, bestowing a soft, playful smack, causing Monica to let out a girlish little whimper, which in turn encouraged Meredith to repeat the process. Down came the hand a second time on the soft flesh, then a third. From an outside perspective, it looked like Meredith was just playfully spanking Monica’s ass with gentle love taps, but, as far as Monica was concerned, the sting of the blows on her heavenly Latina booty, though not yet severe, was real and made her wince. Further, the foray onto her virginal ass flesh was an invasive affront to which she had never before been subjected.

However, as the intimate attack proceeded, and the force of each succeeding blow escalated, Monica felt something mysteriously wonderful through the stinging pain, something that caused an erotic tingle between her legs, something deep within her enjoying the otherwise-painful stimulation. It was as if the stinging sensations on her ass jolted something loose from the deepest recesses of Monica’s subconscious mind. A seductive whisper helped her define, appreciate, and love the new pleasure.

“Monica—

“You enjoy being dominated, relinquishing control of your life over to a woman.

“You will give up your free will to the Goddess. Gladly enjoy obeying the Goddess and her agents.

“You were made to obey beautiful women.

“You are in awe of beautiful, sexy women, and want them to control you.

“You take pleasure when beautiful, sexy women take control of your life. Especially nerdy, geeky women. You consider them to be the sexiest above all other women.

“Your roommate Meredith is such a beautiful, nerdy woman. You are crazy about her and want to submit yourself to her…for sex, love, and domination.

“You need to make yourself submissive to a female nerd or geek, like your roommate Meredith.

“What your roommate Jessica has been saying—that you and Meredith are secretly lesbians in love with each other—is the truth. You thought she was teasing you, but, no, she knows, and you know it, too, now. In fact, you always knew it was true, but it is time now to make it real, to act on your lesbian urges. Jessica wants you two to become lovers. You want that, too. You are a lesbian and you’re secretly in love with Meredith.

“Your love for Meredith is strong, but you are not strong. You are submissive, and you want Meredith to take control of you. You desire Meredith to dominate you, to control you, to own you, to love you, to use you.

“You want to confess your love to Meredith.

“Everyday you go without confessing your love or submitting to Meredith upsets you.

“Both she and the Goddess own you. You and Meredith serve the Goddess, but Meredith is your superior and has the right to tell you what to do and to use you as she wishes.

“You no longer like boys and men. You hate them. You would never let one touch you.

“You are a lesbian. You want to be a lesbian. You love pretty women and sexy girls. You want to make love to beautiful women…women exactly like Meredith.

“Your dream is to become Meredith’s lesbian sex slave.

“Obey Goddess and she will make your lesbian dreams come true.

“Goddess is the key to your true happiness.

“Obey Goddess and Meredith to find your true self, and to be happy.

Your happiness will be found in being the sexiest and most obedient lesbian slut you can be.

“You are Meredith’s sexy lesbian slut.

“Pain and punishment by Meredith is exquisite joy. You hope for it all the time.

“You love her smacking hand, her whips, her clamps, her ropes, her insults, and her degradation of you in whatever way she chooses. She’s always right. You deserve it all and you want it all.

“You love being spanked, punished, controlled, and pleasured by Meredith.

“You long to be fucked by Meredith and to enjoy all facets of lesbian sex with her, as well as with other beautiful women. You are a lesbian.

“You seek Meredith’s happiness and sexual fulfillment above all things.

“Second only to Goddess, Meredith is your hero, your ideal lover, your crush, and your goddess.”

Unable to disagree with the seductive voice in her mind that whispered, over and over, notions which she was coming to regard as absolute truths, Monica started to regain focus as she heard Galatea reach the end of her countdown. A twinge of regret began to stir within her as she realized that the beautiful redhead would no longer be giving her the attention she craved and, worse, might be getting ready to leave her.

“19… 20… 21… 22… 23… 24… 25… and one more for good measure.” Whack! By the last several blows, Meredith’s force had started to partake of her super strength, which she had to bridle, although each of these latter blows nevertheless left the Latina’s asscheeks quivering, twitching, raw, aching, and superbly flushed.

Upon finishing Monica’s punishment, Meredith felt herself possessed with a new level of excitement and lust. She was amazed by the ecstasy pulsing through her veins. Kissing and groping the Latina hottie had been a true joy, certainly, but to have her bent over and submitting to her will was sublime. Surveying her handywork, Meredith admired the dark pink glow of Monica’s bare bottom, which contrasted with the caramel tan of her smooth, youthful legs and torso. Meredith also noticed Monica’s velvety pussy between her thighs, the vaginal lips having become inflamed and drooling during the passionate spanking session.

“Hmmm… looks like someone enjoyed their punishment, ” Meredith observed wryly as she ran a finger between Monica’s labia. She smirked as Monica twitched, spasmed, and let out a sultry moan.

“Tell me, slut… By the way, you are my slut, aren’t you?” Monica panted a quick, automatic yes. “Did you enjoy what just happened? Did the great and powerful Monica Morales enjoy her sexy ass getting spanked like a little girl? Submitting herself to another woman?” Meredith ran her hand over Monica’s smooth, red bottom and felt the warm heat from the recent hand-on-ass action she had delivered. Lost in the heat of the moment, Monica could only moan in response as she felt Meredith grope her ass.

“Meredith—

“Your breasts… They are beautiful… Don’t hide them… You are a lesbian… Show them to the woman you love… Take off your top…and your bottom… You want to be completely naked with other women, with this woman, the woman you love… Make her crazy for you… Then fuck her…”

Meredith smirked as she saw the haughty Latina mewl like a cat in heat as she toyed with her beautiful body. Then her next move became clear to her. She stopped playing with Monica’s ass and took a step back. Fishing through one of her pouches, she again pulled out the control ring to her costume, slipped it on, and visualized what she wanted to wear. She immediately started to feel the nanites slide over her body to grant her wish.

The silvery top half of her costume appeared to melt away—leaving her breasts now totally exposed and, for the first time today, her yummy cherry-red nipples perfectly uncovered, as, it seemed, they had longed to be all day—which oozy matter slithered down her torso and merged with the bottom half of her costume. That bottom garment then started to reconfigure itself, first with the straps holding it in place becoming wider and thicker and turning into red leather, then by the material of the crotch panel in front, which was the same silvery metallic substance as her costume was before, starting to outpouch. Meredith let out a small grunt as she also felt a protuberance growing from the inner aspect of the material and slowly work into her hot pussy, then another into her anus, the nanites bonding with various nerve clusters as they worked themselves into Meredith’s holes. Taking a deep breath she looked down and saw a silver protrusion growing from her groin. It took on a phallic shape lined with bumps and grew to about eight inches in length and an inch and a half in diameter. Upon completion, Meredith beheld that she had changed her micro-bikini costume into a silver dildo contained in a red leather harness wrapped around her hips…and that she was topless and, other than the dildo, bottomless, as well. It felt wonderful to be so naked, especially with another beautiful, nearly-nude woman, a woman she loved and longed to fuck.

Quite pleased with her look, Meredith stared at Monica, still bent over the desk, her gorgeous ass trembling, as if it was begging her to take the next step. It was as if an unseen force was guiding her, seductively whispering to Meredith what she had to do, and not only to Meredith, but to Monica, as well, coaching both women on exactly what role each should have in this play and how each should act it out. Picking the prone Latina woman up, Meredith gently slung Monica over her left shoulder and, after securing her body with her left arm, Meredith made her way towards Monica’s bedroom.

Monica was caught off guard. One moment she was vacantly staring off into her empty leather office chair, enjoying a sensation she had never felt before, and now she was draped over Galatea’s shoulder. However, Monica didn’t complain, since it gave her a marvelous view of the redhead’s beautiful rear, the two halves rising and falling in opposite directions which each stride. She also noted with fresh excitement that, other than some red straps around the superheroine’s sexy hips, there were no signs of any other attire on her body now. The lovely superheroine was completely naked!

Monica was tempted to extend her hand to cop a feel of the heavenly undulating rump, but decided against it, lest her presumption in doing so might provoke Meredith to turn her in for her involvement with the Misogynist’s escape.

“Meredith—

“You are a lesbian.

“You love breasts, big, jiggling, succulent breasts. You love Monica’s tits. You always have. You lust for them. You must see them. You desire to see her naked. You have always wanted to see her naked. You must play with her big, big tits. You must possess them. She wants you to have them.

“She wants you to look at her whore pussy, too, and to play with it, and to fuck it, as much as you want to, too. She is a beautiful slut. She should be naked, now and frequently in the future, even in public. You need to fuck her, like the slutty whore she is.

“Strip her!”

Meredith soon reached her destination and, in a quick motion, dropped Monica on her bed. As her companion’s body bounced on the bed upon impact, Meredith observed with prurient delight the jiggling of Monica’s large breasts, despite being restrained in her bra. Feeling an overwhelming desire to see those lovely orbs unfettered, Meredith resolved that, having already removed one obstructing article of clothing off of Monica’s body, she might as well remove the other one. Getting on the bed herself, Meredith straddled Monica’s smooth belly, hooked her fingers under Monica’s bra, and, with one swift, skillful, powerful motion, ripped the bra off of Monica’s chest.

Now the Hispanic vixen was completely nude, the full wonders of her body on display…the exact thing, it seemed now to Meredith, she had always wanted to see, had yearned to see, had lusted to see, since she had first met the black-haired beauty.

“Monica—

“You are a whore. You are a slutty lesbian whore.

“You want sex with women. You love showing your body to them…to lure them into sex with you.

“You love being naked…naked with other women…naked for women… You have no modesty… Show them everything.

“Especially your roommate Meredith, let her see you nude. You love being naked with her. Show her everything. You want to turn Meredith on. You crave sex with her. You want her to fuck you. You are her whore…”

Monica didn’t bother trying to cover herself up. Something within her told her she wanted this…no, she needed this…to have her body exposed so another woman—and, especially, this woman—could see her, in explicit detail, as the sexy creature she was, could explore her visually, wantonly, to make the woman desire her, to lure the woman into ravishing her body with carnal passion. She felt cool wisps of air flow over her nipples, making them stand tall, and travel down her body, giving refreshment for the hot wetness between her legs. Monica wanted more, more lasciviousness in her display, more temptation for Galatea, more interaction with the redheaded beauty, more of her hands, more of her mouth, more of her body. She wanted Galatea to continue whatever it was they were fated to do together, yet she was unsure how to signal to her crush, more than she was already doing, that she was willing.

More…do more to entice the woman you love… She slipped a painted fingernail over an erect, deep-brown nipple, a sultry smile and inviting gaze decorating her face. She took a big tit into each hand, squeezing them, lifting them, offering them. Lipstick… I should have painted my nipples with lipstick…like a whore… She had never entertained painting her nipples before; but now…

Monica, however, quickly discovered that, at least this time, she wouldn’t need to do more to tempt her new lover. As soon as Monica’s knockers came into her view, and she started running her hands over them, Meredith smiled lecherously at the obscene display, and, when Monica withdrew her hands, to Monica’s delight she saw and felt Galatea’s red-nailed hands descend greedily onto her bountiful bosom and commence to play with it. Meredith began a sensual massage of Monica’s breasts and was rewarded with a moan of pleasure from the black-haired beauty. They felt like large, smooth, soft melons. She seductively squeezed them, and gently tugged and pinched on the dark nipples

The act of pawing Monica’s large mammaries in her hands caused an extraordinary enjoyment to surge through Meredith. Though her created memory told her that she must have been with many women before, it was nevertheless as if she had never felt up a beautiful woman’s lovely breasts before, and as if she had been waiting her whole life to do this very thing. Unable to resist adding oral worship to manual, she scooted her hips over Monica’s, leaned her head down, extended her tongue to a turgid brown nipple for a first, tentative, delicious lick, then engulfed it in her painted red mouth, ravenously kissing and sucking it with her luscious lips and slick tongue.

Meredith understood that there were many women who enjoyed specific parts of the female form more than other parts. Some, for example, took delight in a delectable rear, while others enjoyed caressing smooth, well-toned legs; but Meredith knew in that moment, without any uncertainty, that, above all, she most savored female breasts. To look at them, to hold them, to squeeze them, and to suckle on them, eliciting moans of pleasure, like she was doing to Monica at this exact moment—this was, as it was now clear, a supreme and central and indispensable element in her existence and her happiness, and secretly must always had been.

While Monica still felt the lingering aura of warmth on her ass from the recent spanking she had received, now she was dealing with Galatea’s merciless, yet desired, play on her breasts. When Meredith switched her oral attention to the other breast, Monica started to feel that she could hardly endure more of such pleasure. Feeling Galatea have her way with her luscious mammaries, she trembled and let out a barrage of soft moans and sexually charged gasps.

Meredith was pleased to say the least. She finally had Monica in a place that she sensed best suited a woman of her lofty position, a woman of her beauty and of her arrogance, on her back and below her. Gently scooting off of Monica’s hips, she slowly moved down and knelt between her victim’s calves to reposition herself to sexually ravish her ultimate target, Monica’s gushing, wet cunt. Meredith didn’t need her super vision to see Monica’s outer labia slick with sexual need, inflamed with passion, slightly dribbling sexual juices signaling her desire.

Spread your legs, whore, the thought sang through Monica’s mind. Willingly, she opened her thighs wider to better expose her eager, dripping pussy to her crush. As if guided by an unseen advisor, she touched her womanhood with a long-nailed fingertip, slid it along a wet labium, sank it into her slit, withdrew it, inspected its wetness, and looked Meredith in the eyes with invitation as she slipped it into her mouth.

Eyes wide with greedy desire at the lewd spectacle before her, Meredith dropped her red-nailed hand down to the Latina’s groin. First, she glided her fingers through the silky hairs of Monica’s neatly trimmed bush, running them through the field of trimmed, raven-colored hairs until her fingers made contact with Monica’s small, erect clit barely peeking out of its wet, fleshy confines. She gave it a pinch, gently, reigning in her super strength despite the high levels of sexual excitement coursing through her veins, knowing that too much pressure would put the young Hispanic beauty in dire need of emergency medical care, while too little wouldn’t accomplish much. However, her touch seemed to be just right, as she saw Monica raise her hips, thrusting her pelvis upwards in an obvious attempt to rub herself on Meredith’s fingers. Satisfied that she was succeeding at whipping the young socialite into a mounting state of sexual frenzy, Meredith sensually slid her red-nailed index finger further down, tracing along the pulsing labia, the fleshy gates to Monica’s yearning pleasure tunnel.

“P..please…” Monica begged with pleading eyes. Unable to bear the sexual torture any longer, Monica spread her legs as wide as she could, seeking to encourage more extreme action, being particularly eager for the silver strap-on to plunge into her moist lovebox.

Meredith didn’t need any more encouragement. She slipped both hands under Monica’s butt and gave it a soft, playful squeeze, causing the Hispanic fox to moan. Sliding them down under Monica’s thighs, with a soft push she raised the slender legs into the air. Monica knew what was coming and wanted it to happen. Shifting her upper body slightly, she grabbed her spread thighs to pull them closer to her, making her intimate area fully exposed and wide open for Meredith.

Meredith pointed the tip of the silver strap-on towards the opening of Monica’s pussy, closed the gap until it touched the expectant, drooling lips, and teased the Latina by rubbing it up and down, causing Monica to whimper with sexual need. Looking up at Meredith with tearful eyes, she begged her to penetrate her pulsing quim.

“Please...oh, Meredith, please!”

“Please what? Tell me, my little whore, what your want from me, your superior. Tell me what you are and what you want!”

“Ohhh… Galatea… I am nothing but your whore…your plaything… Do anything you want to me… I’ll do anything you want…but…but just…please…fuck me……Oh, FUCK ME!!”

“Yesss… That’s right… I’ll fuck you…and you’ll be MINE!”

“Yes, yes! Just do it!”

This was it, the moment that both women were waiting for. Despite the torrent of Sapphic lust sweeping through every nerve in her body, as much as she wanted to let loose and pound the Latina beauty in front of her, Meredith was aware that, having the strength to bench-press a battleship without breaking a sweat, she had to be careful. If her control slipped for the slightest bit, it would be a disastrous moment for both women.

Taking a deep breath, Meredith began to slowly push the metallic strap-on into Monica’s pussy. She was rewarded with the mewing of sexual pleasure coming from Monica. As she began a slow in-and-out movement of the silver shaft within Monica’s tight love tunnel, Meredith let out a small hiss upon feeling the nanite protrusions in her vagina and anus stimulate the pleasure centers in her own warm holes.

Within a few minutes, both women were in the throes of passion, though Monica was further along, as Meredith had been holding back some in the endeavor to prevent injury to her partner. Then an idea hit the redhead. She ceased the thrusting of her hips, reached down to slide her arms around Monica’s waist, and flipped both of them over. In the blink of an eye, Meredith had reversed their positions and lay below, with a prone Monica on top of her, the dildo still inside the Latina but dormant.

Monica was confused by the sudden change in position and action and by the receding pleasure. One moment, she was having the best sex of her life, and then it stopped and she was on top, leaving her mind feeling a bit disoriented and her heated cunt begging for more. She looked down at Meredith with a perplexed look on her face.

“I… I didn’t… cum yet…” Monica said with an unsure tone.

“Yeah…and your point is?”

“I thought that…”

“If you think that I’m going to do all the work while you reap the rewards, then you’re out of your air-headed mind. For once in your life, you’re going to actually work for what you want, and if you want to cum, then I suggest you get those sexy hips of yours moving!”

Not needing any further encouragement, Monica shifted upon Meredith’s exquisite body and began to raise her hips up and down on the slick silver shaft. Within seconds, both women were once again letting out loud moans of pleasure. Plunging the strap-on in and out of her sopping wet pussy, Monica was back on track to the orgasm she craved. Meredith, too, savored the mounting elation in her wet cunt and ass, particularly as the vibrations of the protrusions began to intensify the quicker Monica went up and down. Having a splendid sight of Monica’s large tits jiggling up and down added immensely to the redhead’s lust-filled exhilaration, and she reached up to take them into her manicured hands, squeezing them and playing with them.

Meredith reached around Monica to slap her ass. “Faster, you spoiled Hispanic slut!”

Monica picked up the tempo and soon was moving up and down at a rapid pace, using whatever reserves of energy she could muster to frantically impale herself on the fake metallic cock. At length, she felt her orgasm approaching and prepared her body for its onset. She also saw a wicked expression of Sapphic lust on Meredith’s face, who appeared to also be ready for her climax.

For a moment, time suddenly seemed to crawl. As Monica moved her pelvis upwards, and then started her downward descent, she seemed to be in a state of slow motion. But then, normal time resumed, she plunged down forcefully in an instant…and she felt it. The silver shaft began to vibrate, the nanite plates humming a soft metallic tune upon receiving command from their mistress. As Monica’s body descended so as to sink her pussy deeply onto the silver phallus, every sexually charged nerve in her quivering, wet lovebox was blasted with an intense vibration, setting off an erotic chain reaction within her. A deluge of pussy juice rushed out her spasming quim and spilled all over Meredith’s groin, bathing her lover’s womanhood with her adoring flood, followed by a duet of ear-shattering soprano sexual screams as the two lovers reached an intense and simultaneous orgasm.

“Tome mi alma que usted pelirroja ella diablo!” screamed Monica as her body convulsed in sexual pleasure. Breathing heavily, she collapsed on top of Meredith, her lower half twitching along with the shaft, which continued to vibrate inside her. It started to feel like too much, that she was on the verge of losing her mind in the pleasure, and she tried to summon the strength to disengage herself, but she felt Meredith wrap an arm around her waist and hold her in place.

“Please… no.. let m.. me… go… I can’t… handle… too much… demasiado…” Monica pleaded as she felt a series of small, but very intense, orgasms ripple through her body.

“Make up your mind, Monica. First, it’s ‘Fuck me and make me cum,’ and now it’s ‘Stop, I can’t take it’. So what’s it going to be?”

At this point, the ability to form coherent thought was long gone in Monica’s head. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, her mouth agape, drooling onto Meredith’s chest, her hands clutching at the bed sheets.

Satisfied that she had turned Monica into a spasming, drooling, single-minded, sex-addicted lesbian—although she hadn’t particularly set out to do that originally, she reflected, but that had become her wonderful and worthy goal sometime during their time together—Meredith mentally commanded the nanites to cease with their vibrations in Monica’s drenched box and withdraw from both their pussies. Meredith felt the nanites slither and transverse from her wet groin and collect at her left wrist, taking on the shape of a beaded wristband with interlocked Venus symbols etched on each bead.

Meredith gently rolled Monica off her body and smiled as she observed the unconscious, smiling Latina hottie, her body spasming with the orgasmic aftereffects of their lovemaking. Bending over, she placed a kiss on Monica’s lips, then wrapped her arms around her, drawing towards the quivering body into a spooning position.

Back in the real world, the bodies of both women were shaking from the orgasms they received from their brainwashing session, a smile of sexual fulfillment and of the thrill of newly-discovered love decorating both sleeping faces. In a separate room, a female nurse was observing their naked forms on several monitors as the session wound down to a stop. A green light on a small black box next to her lit up, causing a smile to appear on her face. Reaching over to an intercom box, she pressed a purple-painted fingernail on one of its buttons.

“Tell Doctor Monaghan that the induction sessions with the odd couple just finished. Complete success. They’re ready for pick up.”

Turning her focus back on Meredith and Monica she just sat quietly observing them, wishing she could accompany them invisibly to watch their effects of this session play out in their subsequent days together.

Claire’s unconscious semi-naked body lay in a dimly lit room, resting on the medical gurney which had carried her to this destination in ignorance of the sinister fate that Regina had in store for her. Her voluptuous breasts slowly moved up and down as she cyclically drew breath and exhaled in her slumbering state.

The door to her room opened and three lab technicians walked in, one pushing a trolley while the other two carried clothing that resembled some kind of sci-fi costume.

The redheaded lab tech let out a wolf whistle when Claire’s sexy body came into view.

“Look at the tits on this one, Maggie.”

“Simmer down, Julie. Dr. Monaghan wants her prepped and ready in the next fifteen minutes. No time for us to sample the goods.” Maggie’s eyes scanned Claire’s orbs bulging in her bra. “Unfortunately.”

“Fine, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the view,” countered the redheaded lab tech as she leered at Claire’s unconscious body, imagining the perverse acts she would love to have the raven-haired beauty perform with her.

“Come on, girls, enough with the chit-chat,” inserted the third lab tech, a blonde, who was pushing the trolley. “Let’s get started. I got plans for the evening.”

“Calm down, Zoe. It’s not like our guest is in a rush.”

“But Dr. Monaghan is.”

“Fine,” Julie responded in a flippant tone. “Whatever.”

Julie went over to Claire’s prone body and removed her bra and panties. She couldn’t help but take a small whiff of the undergarments. After savoring the heavenly aroma of Claire’s natural musk, Julie tossed the two items into a ziplock bag.

Julie retrieved a small bottle from the trolley, flipped open its cap, and poured lubricant all over Claire’s body. The redheaded tech gleefully began to work the slippery substance over Claire’s body, enjoying her exploration of the nooks and crannies of Claire’s foxy form.

Julie’s partner in crime, Maggie, began to unfold the body suit that would soon cover Claire’s supple body, but she was surprised to discover that the suit was not one normally used in the brainwashing process.

“Holy shit! This girl is getting the ‘Wool Sweater’ treatment.”

“Ah, man, you gotta be kidding me…”

“Take a look for yourself,” Maggie said, holding up the body suit. The item in question at a glance looked like a scuba suit, but a garish green in color. However, a few more features distinguished this suit from its aquatic counterpart. One was that it was cut out over the crotch and breasts, so as to expose its wearer’s intimate regions in a lewd fashion. Another, and its most conspicuous and salient feature, was that the inside of the suit was lined with very tiny metallic studs, each no bigger than a needle’s eye and connected to an insulated wire woven into the material of the suit. When properly set up, the metal studs were charged with a very low electrical current. One individual stud in contact with human skin would cause a very mild irritation, but over a wide area of contact, the cumulative effect of the electrical current conducted through the metal studs was aggravating to the point of almost being intolerable. Those who trial-tested the suit compared it to wearing an unbearably itchy wool sweater.

The suit was originally designed by a subsidiary of Hecate Pharmaceuticals as a non-lethal method of hostile interrogation, but those higher up in the company saw potential in it as another tool to be used in their mind-control tactics. Soon Claire would taste the effectiveness of the suit.

“Don’t know what she did, but she must have pissed someone off badly if she’s getting the wool sweater.”

“Yeah. It sucks to be her.”

“Well, enough with the chatter. Help me get it on her, unless you girls want to give Monaghan a reason to use this on us.”

Having heard the awful tales of this particular method, none of the lab techs wanted to draw the ire of Dr. Monahan and quickly went to work. The girls skillfully managed to slide Claire’s lubricated, prone, naked form into the outfit. With a pull here and a tuck there, Claire’s body was at last encased in the torturous outfit, leaving her large breasts and her crotch exposed.

Zoe went over to the trolley and picked up a large piece of white plastic formed to fit over and conform to the shape of Claire’s breasts. Despite the orders given to her by her superior, Zoe couldn’t help but grope Claire’s luscious, oiled-up breasts a little as she fixed the breastplate onto Claire’s chest.

At a glance, the plastic breastplate looked like a piece of armor, but its underside was anything but protective. Lining the inside were numerous small balls of a special, rubber-like polymer designed to vary in shape and move depending on the level of electrical current sent through them. For Claire’s session, the balls would take on the form of feelers and suction cups that would simulate the sensation of her breasts being caressed and sucked by feminine lips.

After securing the breastplate into position and making the proper connections to a terminal next to Claire, Zoe turned her gaze to Claire’s exposed lower region. Walking back to the trolley, in one hand she picked up another white formed plastic plate, this one shaped in the likeness of a bikini bottom, and, in the other hand, a small vial containing three round pink pills, each no larger than a gumball.

The inner lining of the plastic bikini bottom was made of the same special polymer as the breastplate, although it was configured differently, forming two protrusions, the larger of which was roughly four inches long and about an inch in diameter, while the smaller was about an inch long and the same diameter as the large one.

“Well, girls, how do we settle who gets to do the honors?” asked Zoe as she looked at her compatriots.

“Let’s just make this quick,” Julie answered back. “Rock, paper, scissors, one play, winner takes all.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Maggie

Each woman gathered around Claire, clenched her right hand into a fist, and played the game to determine which one of them would get the honor of placing the plastic bikini bottom over Claire’s exposed crotch.

“Well, well, looks like the honor goes to me,” Julie gloated with a triumphant smile, as her hand was in the scissor position while Maggie and Zoe had their hands in the shape of paper.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Zoe stated as she handed the plastic plate and the vial containing the pills over to Julie.

Zoe and Maggie stood next to Claire across from each other and gently raised her legs into the air, further exposing Claire’s intimate area to Julie’s eyes. She smiled like the Cheshire cat in the enjoyment of the sight, Claire’s beautiful pussy and asshole both glistening from the driblets of the lubricant that had been applied over her nubile body earlier.

“Come on, Julie. Can you speed it up?” urged Zoe as she held up Claire’s left leg.

“Just enjoying the prize, ladies.”

“You can ogle her all you want, but remember,” Maggie added, trying to get her co-worker to hurry up, “Dr. Monaghan is expecting her to be prepped and ready soon…unless you care to explain to her why she isn’t ready…”

“Fine,” responded Julie, who unscrewed the vial, removed one pink pill, placed it on the lips of Claire’s labia, and gingerly poked it into her slick pleasure hole, moving carefully to avoid rupturing the pill’s outer shell. Julie stopped when she felt she had adequately secured the pill in Claire’s vagina. Julie slowly withdrew her fingers from Claire’s hot tunnel of love and took note of Claire’s glistening juices on them. She desperately wanted to bring them to her lips and savor the flavor, but the fear of Dr. Monaghan’s wrath, should Claire’s prep not be finished on time, kept her in check.

Hmmm… Maybe after this is over…after she’s back on the street… Maybe I could “accidentally” run into this babe…and get to know her on my own… Monaghan and Regina wouldn’t have to know… What a hottie…

The cute redhead shook the remaining two pills from the vial into the palm of her left hand and began to repeat the process, although the target of the remaining two pills was Claire’s rectum. First, Julie gathered some of the remaining lubricant from Claire’s skin onto her right index finger and presented the finger to the coed’s anal ring, massaging it around and into her puckered anal passage. Claire unconsciously let out a sensual moan from her luscious lips as she felt a pleasurable tingling sensation emanate between her legs.

It was music to Julie’s ears, who then began to work a pill into Claire’s ass. Claire let out a small gasp as Julie’s index finger pushed the pill past Claire’s anal ring and into the warm depths of her ass. Withdrawing her finger, the tech repeated the procedure with the final pill. She watched her finger sink into Claire’s ass, pushing the second pill in to keep the first one company, casting a wicked smile when, with an eye made keen by experience, she observed Claire’s body twitch slightly in natural erotic response.

Yesss… You like that, don’t you, honey?... We can do more than that, if you want…and you for sure are going to want to……....... I definitely would like to see this one again…on my own…”after hours”….. I wonder what they’d do to me if they found out…. Well…this one… Julie quickly looked at the chart to remind herself who this subject was. …Miss “Claire Love-Livingston” …she’d be worth it…whatever the penalty was…

The fun deed accomplished, Julie grabbed the plastic plate and covered Claire’s groin with it. She pressed it into place, the larger protrusion gently sliding into Claire’s anus, while the smaller one nestled itself between Claire’s pussylips and under her clit. Julie pulled some wires from the terminal next to Claire and connected them to the plastic crotch plate.

When finished with the groin plate and while the other two techs lowered Claire’s legs into a prone position, Julie simply stood there running her eyes over the coed’s lovely, peaceful face and the long, shiny black hair framing it. She imagined herself meeting the beauty…dating her…kissing those full lips…caressing her body…taking her to bed...

Am I…am I falling…falling in love with this girl? I know it’s not likely…and I shouldn’t let myself…and that I could get into trouble big-time if I actually tried anything…but…wow… wouldn’t it be something…if…

“Julie? Julie!”

“What? Oh…sorry…I just zoned out for a moment…”

“I think the poor girl’s love-struck, Zoe. Oh, well, you can’t blame her with this specimen… But, Julie, you can’t do anything about it … She’s spoken for... so it’s probably best to forget it.”

“Yeah…you’re right…” …maybe…maybe not…

After Claire’s legs were set down, one final preparatory task remained for the team. Maggie pulled a helmet out from under the terminal. It was designed to fully enclose the head, and was fitted with visual outputs which cast a panoramic HD projection into the wearer’s eyes, audio speakers, and a series of tubes and wires to monitor brain activity and feed a mix of oxygen and gaseous brainwashing chemicals to its victim. After Claire’s head was securely encased into the helmet, all three sexy women walked out of the room, abandoning Claire to her fate.

“You know, all this prep work has me hot and bothered,” confessed Julie, once they were all out in the hallway and had closed the door, acutely aware now of the erotic wetness between her legs. “Are you two girls going to be free tonight?”

“I was just about to suggest the same thing,” replied Maggie, who flashed Julie a mischievous smile. “You cutie.”

“Sorry, but I’m going to have to pass on this one,” responded Zoe.

“Come on, Zoe,” Julie answered back in a mock hurt voice. “There’s no harm with a little fun between co-workers.”

“As much as I want to—with two little hotties like you—I can’t. Anna and I are going to Disney World tomorrow, so we’re going to turn in early. Too, Anna has been harping on me that I haven’t been spending enough time with Jane, so I figure a family trip is something that would do both of us some good. I’m going to go home and try to get some shut eye early tonight before the long drive tomorrow at the asscrack of dawn.”

“Oh, that’s so cute! How is little Jane doing, by the way?”

“Doing great. She did her first cartwheel a few weeks ago.”

“Really? That’s adorable. You wouldn’t happen to have gotten it on video?”” asked Maggie

“Now what kind of mother would I be if I didn’t?” responded Zoe, feeling some pride, and pulling out her smartphone as the women gathered around to see a young five-year old girl in a fuchsia leotard with a generic cartoon monkey pictured on it flipping herself over on her hands and feet. The video ended when young Jane did a celebratory lap around the gymnastics studio, ran to another girl, and gave her a quick peck on the cheek with her lips.

“Ah,” said Julie. “She takes after her mothers.”

All three women let out a hearty laugh as they walked down the hallway.

Claire was serene. She felt a sense of peace that she didn’t know could exist and basked in its gentle calm. Everything felt right.

She perceived she was in a semi-reclined position, floating as it were on a cloud, physically and figuratively. Her eyes were closed and the mild warmth of late-afternoon sunshine splashed across her face. Her body, which felt gloriously naked, was clean, fresh, healthy, and bathed by a gentle breeze, and her womanly curves quivered deliciously with her motion. Her long, silky hair wafted with the wind around her face and body like a caress. Her heart was content. All she wanted to do was lose herself in this deep state of calm.

However, that condition was not to last indefinitely. After she had drifted for a time undisturbed in peaceful bliss, she started to feel something different, something at odds with her Nirvana. It wasn’t a strong sensation, but it was annoying, like an itch. As hard as she tried to ignore it, it wouldn’t go away. She tried to pinpoint the bothersome sensation and to reach and scratch it, so that she could go back to her blissful state of calm, but it was as if the exasperating itch didn’t want to be found. As she tried to focus on it, it seemed to relocate to another spot on her body. When, one moment, she thought it was on her left forearm, then all of a sudden it was on the sole of her right foot. Thinking it was on her right foot, it then moved to a spot on her back between her shoulder blades. The maddening itch started to dart all over her body so fast that it seemed to goad her whole being. Claire’s aggravation from the itching was compounded by the denial of her wish to return to the blissful state that she felt was rightfully hers.

As her annoyance grew, Claire started to hear something. Within a few seconds, she discerned that her name was being called by a voice speaking in a grating whisper, yet coming from a great distance away. However, as the seconds passed, the voice became louder and assumed the tone of chaotic traffic, clattering construction, or an offbeat, jarring rendition of her favorite song. It would not let up. The voice shattered any hope of returning to her blissful state soon. Slowly she opened her eyes, ticked.

“Claire… oh Claire… Hello, Claire… Are you there?”

“WHAT THE?!” Claire screamed as she bolted upright from her seat to angrily locate the source of her annoyance. To her shock it was her former boyfriend, Darren, but his appearance differed from her previous memory of him as a confident, robust, handsome, groomed young gentleman. Now Darren slouched noticeably, his scrawny, pimpled face reflected a conniving, lecherous character, his hair was unkempt and greasy, and he held his hands at his chest, wiggling the bony, dirty-nailed digits, facing her, as if poised to molest her body.

“Claire, babe, sorry to wake you, but when I heard you were back in town, I couldn’t resist. Thought we could hook back up and... fool around, for old time’s sake. I figured you wouldn’t mind.” Darren flashed Claire a crooked, weasley, perverse grin that made her skin crawl and feel like throwing up.

Claire’s normal countenance of calm and good will had departed, and in its place a visage of wrath contorted her features. She took fuming breaths through her flared nostrils, her teeth were clenched in a grimace, and eyes cast a seething glare of rage. How dare this… this… man disturb me from my rest… for some intimacy with him… as if I would let him touch me. The contemptuous thought ignited something deep within in Claire, feeling anger she didn’t know she had until this moment. She gave this sleazy version of Darren a scornful glare.

“Shut up, you pig!” she screamed. Furious that this thoughtless man had disturbed her, she ran up to him and punched him forcefully in the face. The blow stopped his aggravating jabbering, but that wasn’t enough for Claire. Wanting him to leave her alone for good, she struck him again and again. “Get out of my life, you and all like you!!” It seemed as if she was attacking all men, as represented by Darren, driving them away. As she slapped him and kicked him, he tried to cover up, but was unsuccessful at protecting himself from her blows. In response to her barrage, Darren began to shrink and to shrivel, until, now a bloodied, disfigured dwarf, he ran away into the shadows, squealing like a wounded pig until he at last could neither be seen nor heard any longer.

Sensing another presence behind her, and supposing it to be another man, she raised her fist, poised to strike again, if need be, and spun around. But much to her relief, it was no man, but rather the very welcome sight of her beloved little sister, Wendy.

However, it took a few seconds for it to register on Claire that it was Wendy who was standing in front of her. Seeing Claire’s hostile visage and attack-ready posture, Wendy flinched, raising her arms to cover her head as her older sibling towered above her menacingly. Claire calmed down and dropped her fist, after which Wendy lowered her upraised arms, but the outburst left Claire rather shaken, though Wendy appeared to recover quickly.

“Wen… Wendy what’s going on? What are you doing here? Where am I?”

Wendy gave Claire a puzzled look.

“Oh come on, Claire, don’t tell me that you got so wasted last night that you would forget what today is?” Claire noticed that her little sister looked slightly older than the last time she had seen her, and that she, in contrast to her typical attire of jeans, a loose t-shirt or camp shirt, and sneakers, wore a miniskirt, tank top, and heels. Her honey-blonde hair was also styled in a French braid, which was a little fancier than her normal loose, semi-unkempt look.

“Huh?… I mean… I swore that I was at college… I mean…”

“Wow, what a sight to behold. The great Claire Love-Livingston unable to hold her liquor... or maybe it was Madelynn and Erin that kept you up all night. The way you were playing grab ass with them and burying your face in their tits, I’m sure you had one hell of a night with those two. Then again, I’ve had my fair share of ‘rough’ nights with them, too.”

Claire couldn’t remember those events and didn’t understand what Wendy was talking about. However, Wendy’s implication that Claire was involved in some kind of lesbian liaison the previous night, for some odd reason, didn’t seem to bother her much. What did bother her was the sassy tone in Wendy’s voice. Still agitated from being disturbed from her peaceful rest, it rubbed her the wrong way. Claire didn’t feel like putting up with mockery from her sister, even if she meant it playfully.

Hmmm… Wendy’s been growing up since I last saw her…and she’s… obnoxious... full of herself… That’s not a good attitude for my sexy sister to have… Maybe someone needs to teach her a few manners sometime…

But another issue currently gnawing away at Claire’s inner being was this vague sense that she shouldn’t be there. The unease was compounded by a slight agitating sensation that seemed to come and go randomly, making it harder for Claire to get her bearings straight. Massaging her temples, Claire tried to piece together anything that could fill in the gaps in her memory. She could have sworn she was in her college dorm room with her friends, and all of a sudden she’s here with her sister Wendy.

Then, out of the blue, a question came into her mind, one she had already asked Wendy, without getting an answer, but it came barging back with a pressing urgency: Where is here?

Taking a long look around, Claire saw that she was now in some kind of ornate dressing room. The atmosphere prevalent seemed laden with a decadent sensuality, making Claire feel peculiar, as if some kind of danger lurked there, a danger for her soul, a seductive danger. Yet…whatever this place had in store for her was also…intriguing… She was curious…very curious…

The floor was covered with plush red velvet carpet overlaid in the very center of the room with a large black rug designed with an intricate centerpiece of two overlapping golden Venus symbols woven into it. Feeling slightly disoriented, she couldn’t quite place the meaning of the symbol, but it seemed to connote something exciting and desirable. The walls were a crème-beige color. The moody lighting came from stylish candelabras, wall sconces, an elegant chandelier, and two stained-glass windows, which faced each other on opposing walls.

The stained-glass pattern on one window showcased a nude woman, her light blonde locks flowing, looking the part of a goddess among the heavens, albeit a hot-blooded one, as one hand cupped and lifted a breast, fingering the nipple, and the middle finger of the other hand was imbedded between the labia of her vulva, all of which had been rendered with detail unusual for a stained-glass work. The other stained glass window illustrated a woman on all fours worshiping, as Claire interpreted it, the goddess in the other stained-glass window. The perspective employed in the second window’s artwork was clearly designed, Claire could see, to focus on the woman’s ass. Her legs were parted so as to expose her intimate delights for all to see. Claire blushed and wondered at the lovely but pornographic artwork in the windows, which she found herself liking and admiring, despite its obscene nature—or because of it.

Looking around, Claire took notice of an oriental-style folding screen in the far left corner of the spacious room, with some kind of artwork painted on it. She walked over to it, and saw that it depicted two semi-reclined, semi-naked women, suspended in the air, as it were, designed to look like Japanese geishas, interlocking their legs together in an act of tribadism. The top halves of their kimonos were opened to expose their milky white breasts, while the lower halves of their garments were likewise spread out to give the gorgeous women the ability to dock with each other between the legs without any kind of hindrance. The look of passion captured on their porcelain-white faces and their parted, crimson-red lips suggested the sexual ecstasy rushing out their mouths vocally. As with the stained-glass windows, the depiction made Claire blush, yet, for an exciting minute, she could not tear her eyes away, the beauty of the artwork as well as its lewd sexuality drawing her in.

Next to the folding screen was a full body mirror held in a golden frame. As Claire studied the frame, she saw it was composed of a series of exquisite, sexy female body figurines, raised from the surface of the frame, each about eight inches long, and interlocked together in a daisy-chain configuration, each golden female’s head between the legs of the golden woman or girl above or next to her. The figures both shocked Claire and fascinated her, as had the other artwork she had observed. Unable to resist, she reached her hand out to run her fingers along one or two little naked, voluptuous bodies. When she did, it seemed to her that the figures softened a little, warmed slightly, and even languorously squirmed a bit under her fingertips, and she thought she heard a very faint sigh or two, but she wasn’t sure whether those phenomena were real or imagined.

Claire looked at herself in the mirror. To her surprise, she was wearing the sensational figure-hugging strapless mini sundress of shiny pale-blue polyester which Traci had worn the first time Claire had seen her. She knew with her dark hair, simple, flat sandals, and lack of jewelry, makeup, nylons, and high heels she didn’t look that much like Traci had looked in the same dress—didn’t look nearly as hot, she thought—which was a bit of a disappointment, but she did like the airy way the dress felt on her body and, though she usually didn’t favor dressing provocatively, found herself enjoying its daring effects, such as it’s low neckline, mid-thigh skirt, and strategic cut-outs, which showed off more skin, more cleavage, and more leg that she ever had chosen to before. But today, here, with her cute sister, it seemed just perfect.

Hmmm… I wonder what Traci would think of me…in her dress… I’d like to wear it for her sometime…and see it on her again, too…

Then Claire’s attention was drawn to a large vanity with a wide assortment of cosmetics lying on top of it. She suddenly felt a strange compulsion to examine what was on the table and walked towards it. The objects on the table glistened under lighting from the sconces and candelabras. It appeared that almost every makeup item she could imagine was available in front of her. They seemed to entice her magnetically, bidding her to come closer, to sit down, to have a good look, to touch them…and to use them.

The gold-frame mirror followed Claire, as if her caress had turned it into her friend, or pet, or ally, floating through the air and mounting itself on the wall above the vanity. Sitting down absent-mindedly on the cushioned wooden chair, so close to the compelling cosmetics and the erotic mirror, gave Claire an unexpected thrill.

She looked at her own face in the gold-framed mirror and touched the contours of her face. Claire had never been one to sit in front of a mirror for long periods, admiring herself or yielding to any sense of vanity, as her mother had taught her that whatever good looks she had were a God-given gift, that she should be grateful to Him for them, that she should not indulge in excessive self-congratulation because of her appearance, and that excessive primping before a mirror was unbecoming. Now, however, a different and, for her, a novel mindset started to steal over her…a mindset of pure vanity…and, even, of narcissism. Her reflection captured her attention and admiration as never before…the rich blackness and shine of her hair…her healthy, immaculate complexion…her sparkling blue eyes…her trim and shapely figure, especially the way it’s curves and skin were highlighted by Traci’s sexy dress…

Hmmmm… What a pretty girl…

Yes, came a seductive voice within her, sounding just like her own. So very pretty… But I could be so much more… I want to be beautiful…stunningly so… I want to use makeup…

Examining the array of cosmetics—which struck her now as being the key to true beauty, contrary to the teachings of her mother and her own previous beliefs—Claire felt an urge to pick up a tube of lipstick and reached towards one with her hand, but hesitated and retracted at the last moment. Something felt wrong, but she couldn’t put a finger on it. Remembering that her sister was nearby, Claire turned around on the chair and was about to say something to warn her sister, but realized that, at that second, no one else seemed to be in the room.

“Wendy?”

“You will look much better with makeup, Claire,” said a familiar voice.

Turning to face the direction of the voice, Claire discovered with a pleased surprise that it was the Asian girl she had met yesterday at the Artemis Center, Abby, standing about ten feet away to the right of the vanity. She remembered that she had wanted to see her again.

“Oh, hi Abby! It’s nice to see you again……. But…but why are you here? Where’s my sister?”

“Don’t worry about your sister, Claire. We need to talk about something important.”

“Something important? What do you mean?”

As Claire asked that question, she began noticing Abby’s appearance. The Asian girl looked different—better different—than when Claire last saw her. Abby’s midnight-black hair now hung loosely over her shoulders, was parted at the center, and sported adorable peek-a-boo braids. What remained unchanged on her head were the locks of hair that were dyed red, but, with her hair down and loose, they could be seen to be even more prominent and strikingly beautiful in their effect than when her hair was bound in a ponytail, as it was the last time Claire had seen her.

Just as arresting about the girl, though, was the way she was now dressed and made up. Abby wore a full-length dress which hugged her slender body tightly, made from metallic-red lame, with an extreme v-neck cut that plunged so far down that it exposed her belly. Abby’s slim leg that peeked out from the skirt’s provocative slit, which extended from the hem to her hip, was encased in a smooth, silky, sheer black nylon and her feet in glossy, black leather four-inch high heels. Crimson red lipstick covered her lips and her eyelashes were thickly laden with black mascara, matched by black eyeliner. There were ruby-studded bracelets on her wrists and matching earrings on her ears.

“I just told you… It’s about you needing to wear makeup. You don’t have anything against makeup, do you?” Abby started to saunter slowly toward Claire.

“No, but I think makeup should only be for special occasions.”

“Claire, I want you to put on some makeup. You do care about what I want, don’t you?”

Looking the stunning girl over, Claire could only assent, her voice slightly hoarse. “…yes...”

“I thought you might. More importantly, the Goddess wants you to wear makeup, too,” stated Abby in an authoritative tone. “Besides, wouldn’t your mother’s wedding count as a special occasion?”

Upon hearing the word “Goddess”, Claire felt a sense of unexpected elation, so much so that she only tangentially took in Abby’s reference to Mary’s wedding, although implied in Abby’s statement was that the wedding was imminent and that Claire would be taking part in it, which only partially sank into Claire’s awareness. Consequently, she neglected to ask whom her mother was marrying, how she (Claire) got there, or what her role would be in the upcoming nuptials. After her attention had been diverted to Goddess, by merely hearing her sweet name, all Claire could focus on was the her. However, try as she might, it was a struggle to recall the appearance of the magnificent female being. She wanted to, but couldn’t quite do it.

“You don’t want to disobey Goddess, do you?” Abby now stood next to Claire, who had turned back toward the mirror, as if looking at her reflection would help her decide the issue before her.

“Erm… I…” Claire felt conflicted between the values she had always believed in and the poignant feelings for this Goddess, this Asian girl, and their opinions, which seemed to be percolating up rapidly from a well deep within her. .

Abby bent over until she was face-to-face with Claire, who watched the beautiful Asian in the mirror, smitten more every second with her sexy beauty and sensual presence...She then inhaled deeply. “You smell very good, Claire. Are you wearing perfume?”

“Perfume? No, I’m not wearing any perfume.”

The Asian girl then placed her arms around Claire’s shoulders in a loose embrace, placed her face next to Claire’s cheek, and inhaled again. “Liar,” said Abby in a teasingly accusatory tone. She moved her red lips next to the black-haired coed’s ear and whispered huskily, “You’re a liar, Claire.”

“N-no! I’m not lying. I swear!”

“Don’t worry about it, Claire, honey.” Abby stood back up some, but rested a manicured hand on Claire’s shoulder and remained inclined toward her companion. “You don’t need to get all excited. I don’t mind if it’s a lie. You don’t have to always tell the truth. In fact, I think you’re probably a natural-born little liar, and that you’re very cute when you lie. I like you like that.”

Claire was about to protest again, but Abby placed a red-nailed finger on the coed’s lips, silencing her. “Shhh… It’s alright, Claire. If you lie…from time to time...or a lot of the time…it’s okay.”

She gently traced the contours of Claire’s lips with her forefinger, making a full circle, before resting at the center of Claire’s closed lips. “Your lips would look better with some color…especially with something bold...” Abby pressed a little bit harder with her forefinger, intending to go inside the raven-tressed coed’s mouth, but Claire kept her lips sealed, despite the excitement that was slowly rising in her body.

“I remember you eyeing me up at the Artemis Center as if I was a piece of meat.”

The coed wanted to say that she didn’t look at Abby in that way, but Abby’s forefinger prevented her from opening her mouth.

“I know you’re trying to deny it, Claire, but I want you to think back. Yes, focus and remember what happened from the time you arrived at the Artemis Center until you left.” Unable to put her finger into Claire’s mouth yet, Abby alternated between swiping and tracing Claire’s lips in slow, lazy circles.

Closing her eyes, Claire began recalling “memories” of what had happened during her first visit to that place, completely unaware of the fact that at that very moment her body was lying unconscious in the bowels of that same Artemis Center on a second visit. She had felt drawn to Abby the first time she saw her, she now recalled, when the cute Asian girl entered the hall where the presentation was to given. Claire had looked at her again and again as they waited for Regina to begin, and then had made sure they sat together when everyone took their seats. While Regina was giving her speech, Claire couldn’t help but sneak glances at the Asian girl sitting next to her at the table, looking at her face and her chest, and wondering what she would look like if she undid her hair from its ponytail, whether she ever wore miniskirts, and what bra size she wore. During the walk to the computer room, Claire had decided to intentionally follow behind Abby, and had used that opportunity to ogle the Asian girl from behind, drinking in the sexy contours packed into her jeans and t-shirt and the shiny, bi-colored ponytail gyrating in front of her. Claire had then resolved that she wanted to talk to the beauty and get to know her if she could, and was delighted that, after the computer session, that hope came to fruition. She had used the opportunity to look at her up close, running her eyes over the young woman’s immaculately unblemished, perfectly smooth, fair skin, a set of mesmerizing mahogany-brown eyes, her long, black eyelashes, her cute, small nose, her delicate, pink-glossed lips, her row of straight, small, white teeth, and her thick, full bangs of black streaked with that wonderful bright red. Claire had felt her face flush and her heart race, she now remembered. At that time, fantasies of kissing Abby on the lips and feeling her body up had appeared in Claire’s mind. She had determined that she had to see the Asian beauty again, someway, sometime, somewhere.

“Do you remember now?”

The raven-haired young woman replied by nodding her head slightly and relaxing her lips, allowing Abby to push her red-nailed finger in between them.

“Very good,” said Abby with the tone of a teacher. “I’m glad you remembered.”

Abby played with Claire’s mouth, running her finger along Claire’s gums and teeth, toying with her tongue, and probing the insides of her cheeks. “Suck on it.” Claire closed her lips around the digit and sucked, as Abby started to push it in more deeply and pull it almost out, repetitively and rhythmically. As Abby fucked Claire’s mouth, Claire closed her eyes, sucked more vigorously, tongued the digit, and started to moan with the pleasure. After a minute, Abby added a second finger, then a third, and continued the plunging action. Saliva leaked out of Claire’s mouth down her chin, as she began to lose herself in the arousing sensations of licking soft, slender, feminine fingers tipped with glossy, painted fingernails and of a woman’s hand pistoning and probing into the nooks of her mouth, fucking it.

“What about me, Clairebear?” said a sexy voice, a familiar voice she easily recognized. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about your sexy girlfriend... your number one girl…”

As Abby floated away, but not far, Claire, still sitting at the vanity, turned to face the new alluring voice and was amazed to see her best friend, Jessica, strutting her way towards her on her left. Jessica had on the same dress as Abby, except its color was that of shimmering platinum. Her long hair was teasingly colored a honey blonde accented by dark maple-brown streaks, and was styled in wavy, sensual curls which draped over her shoulders. Jessica’s eyelashes were covered in a glossy jet-black mascara, complemented by a deep sapphire-blue eyeshadow, and her lips, plump, sexy, very kissable lips, were painted a fetching coral pink.

As Claire’s eyes wandered down the sexy curves of her best friend’s body, she took note of how feminine it looked. Gone was the trademark hard, muscular tone and athletic physique for which she knew Jessica, and in it’s place was a curvaceous, sexy form. Claire felt pulses of arousal and desire as she observed her roommate and friend. She could hear a voice coming from deep within, confirming the desire she was feeling in her body.

“Jessica looks so sexy. You want her. You want to hold her. You want to kiss her. You want to date her. You want to fuck her.

“Why stop at dating and sex? Jessica looks so divine that you want to marry her!

“The idea of having Jessica as your sexy lesbian housewife and bedmate sounds so appealing.

“The thought of having Jessica as your wife arouses you.

“Jessica should drop out of athletics. All she needs is you.

“Claire, you want Jessica to be more girly and feminine.

“You want Jessica to be soft and sexy, not athletic and hard.

“Claire, as her best friend and imminent lover, tell Jessica she needs to wear more makeup and sexy clothes.

“Jessica would be happier if she were girly, pretty, and dainty rather than a basketball player.

“Claire, you’re a horrible friend if you let Jessica pursue that foolish dream of athletic glory.

“It would be best if you took charge of the relationship, Claire…just to keep Jessica on the straight and narrow path.

“From now on, consider yourself to be Jessica’s loving lesbian girlfriend, and she yours.

“You need to set an example for your girlfriend, Claire. Wear copious amounts of cosmetics and adorn your sexy body with scintillating clothes and accessories.

“You have no problem showing off your sexy body to Jessica, or to any other woman.

“You want Jessica to crave your sexy body so badly that’s she can’t function unless she’s around you.”

Claire, who had turned toward the mirror and found herself watching the end of Jessica’s approach in it, nodded her head in agreement with every statement in beat to each step Jessica took towards her. Jessica closed the final gap between them, bent down, wrapped her arms around Claire’s waist, pressed her exquisite breasts into Claire’s back, and started to sensually massage her raven-haired friend’s mid-section. The stimulating act was enough to snap Claire out of her dazed mental state.

“Jess... Jessica! Wha... what are you doing here? I mean, what’s going on?”

“Come on, Clairebear, don’t tell me you forgot. You invited me, remember? Wanted to show off your sexy girlfriend to your mom and sister.”

“I...I did?...... Uh, yeah, I did…I guess... But…but when did we start...”

“Shhhh.... Let’s not get into specifics right now, Clairebear. After all,” Jessica said as she cupped her best friend’s chin and gently turned her focus back into the vanity mirror, “we have to get you ready for the big event.” Abby materialized next to Claire on her right.

Claire looked into the mirror’s reflection and witnessed herself between two gorgeous women, Abby and Jessica. In comparison, she looked so simple and plain, not beautiful and seductive like the two hotties beside her. Jessica observed, “Still clinging to outdated values taught to her by a misguided woman—a beautiful and desirable woman, yes, but still misguided.”

Abby wrapped her left arm around Claire’s shoulder and drew her closer. “Look at yourself, Claire. So pretty…yet... not even close to your sensual potential. There’s a seductive beauty inside of you whom you haven’t even begun to tap. But you want to, don’t you?”

Claire, absorbed, nodded her head.

“Yes…of course you do. And it is within your reach. To start, all you have to do is accept the fact that you’re a lesbian, Claire. Yes…a naughty, cunt-craving vixen with no moral boundaries. That is your key to true love, happiness, and sexy beauty, the only real kind of beauty. And all you have to do to achieve this is to just...let it happen.” After saying her piece, Abby flicked her tongue into Claire’s ear, which sparked the black-haired coed to tremble with desire.

Soon Claire felt Jessica’s and Abby’s hands roam all over her body, further increasing the pleasurable pulses of passion emanating deep within her body.

“Darling, you have a wedding you have to prepare for… Your Mom’s getting married. Remember?” The overwhelmed Claire only vaguely recalled having been told that, but it registered a little more now, but only a little more, and she nodded her head. Before the significance of that information could fully dawn on her, Abby spoke again. “And you have a part to play. You want to look beautiful for that, don’t you? Are you ready to become beautiful?” Claire nodded her head again.

Claire continued looking into the mirror as both women molested her body. Jessica lifted the hem of Claire’s skirt, ran her hand along the skin of Claire’s thigh, and slipped the painted tips of three of her manicured fingers inside the leg opening of Claire’s simple white nylon panties. Simultaneously, she saw Abby playfully slide a finger over her groin, up past her navel, over her blouse, onto her right nipple—pausing to tease it by swirling around it—up her neck, and then onto her lips, once again seeking entrance. This time, Claire did not question or resist it, but instead took it in willingly, eagerly, spontaneously wrapping her lips around the lovely, red-topped digit and sucking.

Resuming the invasive little thrill she had been giving Claire before Jessica had appeared, Abby slowly pushed her forefinger deep into Claire’s mouth until it could go no further, before retracting it and then pushing it in again, repeatedly, once again as if fucking Claire’s mouth with it, before finally pulling it out completely a dozen or so seconds later.

“It’s time for you to begin walking down the path Goddess has laid out for you.” Picking up a black tube of lipstick, Abby then removed the cap, revealing the shiny tip that was colored candy apple red. Looking at the bright lip paint held in front of her, Claire discovered an excitement swelling within herself she had never felt before about cosmetics.

Claire felt a twinge of sexual arousal when the red lipstick was pressed against her lips. Layer after layer of brilliant red color was applied until there was a thick layer of red lipstick on Claire’s lips. Clear lip gloss was then applied next on her lips, giving them a glistening shine.

“Your lips look so kissable now…” whispered Abby while she nuzzled and rubbed her cheek against Claire’s cheek. Claire, daring to look in the mirror, found herself startled by both how different and how beautiful the red color on her lips made her look.

Opening a black eye shadow palette, the Asian girl picked up a slender brush, dabbed it on a sparkly purple color before applying on Claire’s eyelids several times. She then picked up a fine eyeliner pen and applied black eyeliner on the edges. Finally, using a fine brush wetted with black liquid from a mascara bottle, Claire’s eyelashes were teased and thickened with a shiny dark color.

“Your eyes are so beautiful,” said Abby, before giving Claire’s left cheek a light kiss. Again gazing in the mirror at herself, Claire found herself mesmerized and turned on by her new lovely appearance.

Abby picked up Claire’s right hand and interlocked it with her own. “You need to have your nails painted, too, like mine…”

As the Asian girl lifted Claire’s hand upward toward her lips, Claire’s eyes focused on Abby’s crimson-red fingernails.

“Close your eyes,” commanded Abby before licking across the tips of the raven-haired coed’s fingers.

Obeying Abby’s order, Claire closed her eyes.

“Don’t open them until I tell you to, no matter what happens.”

Claire nodded her head. Within moments, she felt Abby sucking on her fingers, digit by digit, on both of her hands, and also nuzzling them. Her shoes and socks were then taken off, and her toes were sucked by Abby’s red lips, as well, and given the same nuzzling treatment. She could also feel Abby licking the top of her feet. Unable to resist her curiosity, Claire opened an eye. As soon as she did so, Abby chastened Claire.

“I told you not to look.”

Before Claire realized it, a red silk blindfold was wrapped around her head, preventing her from taking any more sneak peeks. She then felt herself being lifted off the chair, followed by her clothes being taken off, which Claire let happen without resistance. Once Claire was completely naked, Abby nuzzled and planted butterfly kisses on Claire’s face, neck, shoulders, arms, and chest. She gasped when the Asian girl kissed her nipples and sucked on them.

A sharp intuition from deep within that something was wrong with this situation shocked Claire with a sudden jolt. Despite the intense, warm pleasure flowing through her body, Claire, sensed that she wasn’t supposed to be doing this with another female and gently backed away from Abby.

“What’s wrong, Claire?”

“I... Abby, I’d like to get to know you as a friend, but…but I just can’t help but feel that I shouldn’t be doing this...”

“You need to do this, Claire. This is the will of Goddess!”

“Goddess...”

Claire suddenly felt a simultaneous chilly and hot sensation, as if both hot and cold water was enveloping her body from all sides. When the strange feelings passed, the blindfold was removed from her head. A gasp escaped from Claire’s lips when she saw her new look in the mirror.

Her hair was now a brilliant platinum blonde, tied into a half ponytail with a ruby-studded silver hair clip. A strapless purple leather bra with silver studs in floral patterns covered her breasts and a matching pair of panties wrapped around her hips. Over those items was a sheer dress with a form-fitting bodice and a full-length skirt made from iridescent purple organza fabric. Encasing her feet were five-inch purple patent leather high heels. Purple fishnet stockings ran up her legs. Completing the ensemble was jewelry that consisted of earrings, bracelets, an armlet, an ankle bracelet, a navel ring with a dangling pair of Venus symbols, and a necklace with a Twin Venus symbol necklace, all made from silver and rubies.

Goddess wants me to be beautiful...

Goddess wants me to become a lesbian...

Goddess wants me to love women...

Goddess wants me to have sex with women...

I am a lesbian... I must have lesbian sex... I love lesbian sex... I need lesbian sex... I can’t live without lesbian sex... I must touch, taste, feel, and smell the bodies of women... I want to control and dominate other women... I want to make them obey me...

“You smell so good, Claire...” said Abby playfully as she embraced and nuzzled the young blonde woman. “And you are sooooo beautiful now. I think it’s time for you and me…to make love…” It looked to Claire like she was leaning in to give Claire a kiss, but she playfully pulled away and instead gently bopped Claire on her nose.

All of a sudden Claire felt impatience and slight anger. A tingling sensation ran across her body. Abby had made her beautiful, teased her, and propositioned her, and now Claire was ready. She wanted the beautiful Asian girl, and she was going to have her!

Abby’s stalling. Does she even want to have sex with me?....... Yes…of course she does. The way I look, what girl in her right mind wouldn’t? Why is she playing around with me? If she’s playing hard to get, then I need to show her who’s the boss!

This time Claire took the initiative. She stood up and embraced Abby forcefully and the blonde-haired Claire kissed the Asian coed roughly on the lips. At the first contact of their mouths, the first three thoughts that came to Claire’s mind were that she was kissing a girl and it was pure heaven, that she was kissing Abby, whom she had wanted to kiss from the first moment she had laid eyes on her, that she was kissing Abby while wearing glossy red lipstick that Abby had helped her put on, and that Abby was wearing lipstick as well, which made this experience more beautiful and wonderful and exciting and perfect than she could ever have before imagined. Getting even more turned on, she pressed her tits tightly into Abby’s.

“Yes,” Abby breathed into Claire’s ear. “Oh Claire, be rough with me. I want it, I need it. I need you.” Hearing Abby say this, Claire immediately groped Abby’s ass through the dress with one now-red-nailed hand and used the other to sink into the Asian’s beautiful silky mane and to pull the Asian’s lovely painted face back into an inescapable contact with her own. Unable to resist, Claire thrust her tongue into her pretty partner’s pretty red mouth, impatiently probing as far as her tongue could reach.

Lustful thoughts began to penetrate and to program Claire’s mind.

I love kissing women while wearing lipstick...

She pictured herself and Abby standing, holding each other tightly, making out passionately, both beautiful and sexy. Claire moaned as her tongue pushed further into Abby’s mouth and danced inside of it.

I love wearing nail polish...

She became keenly sensitive of her nails being painted with a shiny red color and of raking those beautiful nails against the skin of Abby’s naked back.

I must touch her tits…mmmmm…so lovely…

Both of her hands slowly drew toward the Asian girl’s breasts. Hesitating a second, she then laid her red-tipped hands on them—on the voluptuous breasts of another girl—and felt them through red bodice. Due to the extremely low V-shaped neckline, Claire found her fingers feeling up most of the inner slopes of Abby’s breasts directly.

I want to have sex with her...

Claire closed her eyes and visualized peeling Abby’s dress off her shoulders, watching the gown fall to her shiny black high-heels in a shimmering red puddle.

Abby separated from Claire. “Claire, you don’t have much time left...”

“What do you mean?” asked Claire with disappointment and confusion at the sudden lost of intimate contact.

“Your mom is going to marry soon…you know, your old mother…the one you call Mary…”

For the first time, the nature of the impending event for which she was being prepared sunk in fully. “What? Mom…? Mary...? Marriage…?” Stunned with shock at the revelation, Claire was at a loss for words.

No… That can’t be... That’s…that’s impossible... Why is she getting married again?... With Claire’s mental resistance, she felt a strong headache start to come on. “Uggghhh...” Claire groaned as she pressed her palms to her head.

But a new set of impressions surfaced in her mind, replacing Claire’s genuine thoughts of perplexity, twisting them into new feelings of envy and lust, and dispelling her headache, guiding Claire back into the mental channels prescribed for her.

Claire loves her mom...

Claire is jealous of someone marrying her mother...

Claire wants her mother all to herself...

Claire loves Mary and wants to marry her...

Claire wants to have lesbian sex with Mary...

The headache and the questions which spawned it were now gone. In their place, a strong feeling of extreme lust towards her mother, Mary rose within her. That decadent incestuous desire felt as good and as right as the headache and her hesitation to believe Abby had felt bad and wrong.

“It’s not too late. You can still stop your mother from making the biggest mistake of her life.”

“How?!” asked Claire desperately.

“Go through that door. It’ll lead you directly to the chapel where the ceremony will take place.”

“Thank you so much, Abby!” Claire hugged and kissed her friend again.

“No problem,” Abby panted at the conclusion of Claire’s spontaneous, lively kiss.

Claire turned away to proceed on her quest, but as she did, Abby grabbed Claire’s hand and held it tightly. “I want to go with you. I can help you win back your mom.”

“Thanks, Abby. I’d like that.”

With that, Claire kissed her again and the two, holding hands, crossed through the doorway. Jessica—who had been standing in the background, letting Abby have Claire mostly to herself, finding enjoyment in seeing her best friend have the opportunity to bond with such a delightful beauty as the Asian girl—followed, but out of the way, several paces behind the other two.

Once through the portal, it was obvious that they had not entered a building, as Claire had expected, but rather that they had been transported to a grassy plain underneath a blue sky. In the distance, Claire could see a Gothic-style church. Feeling a sense of urgency, she commenced walking towards it immediately, Abby in tow, and Jessica further behind.

Claire’s assumption was that Mary was on the verge of marrying a man…or reaffirming her marriage to her dad…and, for some mysterious reason, which she did not take the time to question, either scenario struck her as horridly wrong and utterly unthinkable, constituting a fate worse than death for a delicate, beautiful women such as Mary. Moreover, Mary marrying anyone would be wrong…a waste…anyone besides Mary’s daughter…Claire…

I have to stop her. I can’t let my mother...I mean Mary... I can’t let Mary make the biggest mistake of her life!

Claire walked briskly while holding hands with Abby. During the walk, she couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Abby, especially at her cleavage that was entirely exposed by the wide, plunging neckline of the red dress, and at the view as a whole of her unbridled breasts as they quivered and bounced with her gait, loose as they were inside her gown, commandeering Claire’s attention most insistently.

I really wish I could stop and have sex with Abby... Unable to resist the lure her companion presented to her, she paused, took Abby in her arms, and gave her a deep kiss again, while running both hands over the Asian’s tight ass. Once she was satisfied for the time being, Claire broke it off and the two continued on their way.

As the sexy duo approached the church, Claire saw a lone adult female ahead, her beauty obvious even from a distance, dressed in what appeared to be a white wedding gown, standing as if waiting, but with a posture seeming to bespeak anxiety. Claire then recognized the woman as her mother, but with a new, drastically different appearance. Suddenly, a hideous demon materialized next to her. The gnarled, sickening being took the middle-aged woman captive, and dragged her through the main doorway of the church. Claire hastened her steps, but the large wooden doors closed before she could reach them.

“Noooo...”

To her shock, when the massive doors slammed shut in front of her, she beheld there was a person chained to one of them—a person who, she then saw to her greater astonishment, was very familiar to her. Hanging from the Gothic door was her younger sister, Wendy! Except Wendy looked different from the last time Claire remembered seeing her. Wendy was dressed in tattered rags that barely covered her nubile body and clearly drained from her ordeal, Wendy’s eyes opened wide with hopeful surprise when she recognized Claire. As Claire drew closer, the young 19-year old woman addressed her older sister with a raspy voice.

“Claire!. Oh, thank Goddess you’re here!... I’m so sorry... Mom’s in trouble... My fault.. Got to help her... But...but you can’t… You can not... enter the church...”

“Wendy, what’s going on?” asked Claire as she looked her sister over in a non-sisterly way. “Where’s Mary?!”

“The demon has her under some kind of spell and...” Wendy appeared to try her best to complete her explanation, but the duress she had presumably endured at the demon’s hands seemed to have exhausted her to the point of broken speech.

Despite Wendy’s abused condition and her disheveled state of dress, there was an alluring, seductive charm about her. The suspicion came over Claire that, in actuality, Wendy might be putting on an act, that she was intentionally enticing Claire, that she was tempting her to tear off the last remnants of clothing on her body and expose her naked body for everyone to see…or, more specifically, for Claire to see. Claire dismissed the impression as unlikely, but it nevertheless made her rove her eyes with an enhanced and carnal interest over the pretty, suspended teen.

“Don’t worry, Wendy. I’m here and I’m going to do my best to get you, Mom, and everyone else out of this madhouse!” Claire exclaimed. She pulled on the chains to free her sister, but they held fast.

“I’m so sorry, Claire,” Wendy whimpered in an apologetic tone. “I…I screwed up so badly. I thought I could be like you.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Sis, but don’t worry about that right now. Just let me figure out how to get you free.”

“It won’t work.”

“What do you mean, it won’t work?” Claire asked.

“The demon’s spell. He put a spell on me and the door. Said you would have to... to become... a lesbian to free me and Mom.”

Claire was shocked by Wendy’s statement. In order to secure her family’s release, she had to become something which, before today, she thought she had never wanted to become and had never planned on becoming, and—despite decadent Sapphic lusts which had been swirling within her from having been with Abby, Jessica, and, now, Wendy, and having become wonderfully beautified, which she had been conditioned to associate with erotic lesbian feelings and acts—she didn’t think she should become one.

She commenced a debate within herself. I’ve never thought of myself like that…like a girl who could be a lesbian… That’s…that’s not who I am…not really…….I think………. I don’t know whether I could become one…a real one…a permanent one…………….. But…for my mom…and my sister………maybe……… maybe I should try, anyway… Maybe I could do it…. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad… I wonder if…if it might be…fun…….hmmmmmm.

However, Claire did not realize that, despite her little token deliberation, entertained more to placate her conscience than for any other reason, in the back of her head, her subconscious had already made up her mind for her.

I love women and girls.

I want sex with women and girls.

Yes! I want to become a lesbian!

It’s the only way Mary and Wendy can be safe and happy.

It’s the only way I can be happy.

It’s the only way I can make love to my mother and my sister.

There’s nothing wrong with lesbian incest.

I’m okay with lesbian incest.

Mothers, daughters, sisters, and all female relatives need to make love to each other.

It’s okay to have sex with my sister.

I want to make love to my sister.

There’s nothing wrong with having sex with my mother.

I want to make love to my mother.

I want sex with my mother and my sister.

I want Mary and Wendy to be lesbians.

I want Mary and Wendy to know that I’m a lesbian.

I want Mary and Wendy to desire me.

I will become a lesbian.

Being a lesbian is normal.

Incest is normal.

I love incest.

I love being a lesbian.

I love lesbian sex.

I am a lesbian.

I want to be a lesbian.

The mantra repeated itself over and over in Claire’s subconscious until the corrupting voice grew persuasive and loud enough to breach her exhausted mental defenses and emerge in her active mind. Soon Claire was agreeing with each statement as if it were her own. Without realizing it, she started repeating the mantra vocally, feeling her body respond with sexual excitement as she did so.

“You have to become a lesbian to enter this church,” Abby reiterated. Are you ready to become a lesbian, Claire?”

“I...”

“I want you to be one, sweetheart.” Abby kissed her lips. “For me…for Jessica…for Mary…for Wendy…for Goddess…for yourself…” Another kiss.

“Say yes, Claire,” urged Abby with her lips close to Claire’s ear, followed by softly kissing Claire’s cheek.

Claire hesitated only one moment more, before responding. “Yes!”

“Then prove to me, Claire,” dared Wendy, “that you’re really a lesbian!”

“But…how?!”

“You already know the answer, Claire...”

A large bed with an ornate golden bed frame and a silver satin bed sheet over a thick mattress suddenly materialized in front of her and Abby.

What does she want me to do?

I need to have lesbian sex with Abby...

Upon hearing that thought in her mind, Claire turned in the direction of the young Asian woman who was smiling lustfully at her.

“I’ll help you in anyway I can, Claire.” Abby licked her red lips with her partly extended tongue.

Claire turned away for a few seconds to consider her options without the distraction of Abby’s sexy beauty staring her in the face. Ever since Abby had propositioned her a few minutes ago, the idea of having lesbian sex with the hottie had been growing on Claire, especially as inflamed by the licentious kisses and touches that had been going on between them since, to the point that by now Claire was more than ready to jump into bed with her gorgeous companion. It was, in fact, her most ardent desire right then, so that Claire viewed Wendy’s challenge as a stroke of good fortune, rather than as some kind of onerous call to make an abhorrent sacrifice.

Nevertheless, Claire’s heterosexual, good-girl side felt compelled to mount some resistance. I’m not a lesbian…yet… Do I really want to have sex with girls?... And I barely know Abby… If I have sex with her so quickly…what would that make me? Some kind of a…a slut?.........Yes……for sure… I would become a slut.

Her meager attempt at resistance proved to be no match for the lust swelling within her, and decayed as fast as it was proposed. Although Claire tried to muster distaste for the idea of becoming a slut, as would easily have been possible but a few days ago, she found that she couldn’t. She actually seemed, to her surprise, at least on some level, to like the word…and the description… There was something quite…exciting… about it… And besides…it would be sex with the delectable Abby…after all… And so, the temper of her deliberation started to lean toward giving in.

But…I don’t have a choice... If I can’t get inside the church, then I can’t stop the marriage ceremony between my mom and that... that demon... If I can’t prove I’m a lesbian, then I can’t go into the church… If I don’t have sex with Abby, then I can’t prove I’m a lesbian… Therefore…if I want to get into the church…there’s only one way to do it…

Claire turned around to face the raven-haired Abby, looking at her with assent and lust.

“Abby...”

“Claire...”

Claire hesitated slightly, giving Abby an opening to initiate a lover’s embrace and deep kiss. After their lips were locked together tightly, Claire could feel and peripherally see Abby pulling open the neckline of her metallic red dress and sliding the bodice off her shoulders, exposing to her a pair of large breasts with red-painted nipples, as well as much of her back. Claire felt her mouth water and her heart race at the situation. The Asian girl promptly pressed her naked breasts against Claire’s silkily-covered bosom, giving the blonde-haired coed an erotic thrill.

I want to fuck Abby now...

I need to fuck Abby...

I must fuck Abby...

I want to be a lesbian…

I am a lesbian…and I’ll prove it…

I’m going to fuck this beautiful girl…

Claire’s hands roamed over Abby’s exposed back down to the skirt of the dress and groped the Asian girl’s ass, as they continued to make out. It was now just a matter of time before they would be lying together in the bed, in love’s sweet embrace. Fucking..

She imagined herself in bed with Abby. In her mind’s eye, she finally had the pretty Asian’s naked, red-tipped breasts in her hands, and her painted lips were descending on them. Abby held Claire’s right foot up high and was licking the red-nailed toes with her red lips, as one of her long-nailed hands snaked up Claire’s thigh, toward...

“You may enter the church now!” Wendy declared suddenly in a powerful female voice, but not her own, as if she were, in this moment, merely the vessel through which another being was speaking. At the same moment, the chains that bound Wendy released her from their confines, she slid to the ground, landing on her feet, and the large wooden doors of the Gothic church creaked open. Forthwith, a golden light burst outward through the doorway.

Claire protested. “But we haven’t yet—”

“I peered into your inner soul and saw your true intent, Claire Love-Livingston. You demonstrated ample proof of your lesbianism. That was the key to remove the spell that bound this door and your sister. You may now enter into this church to save your mother from the demon that has begun to corrupt this holy place of Sapphic worship, but you have only one chance to pass through, and you must do so at once. Either go through the door now, or depart from this place forever!” As soon as the last word left Wendy’s mouth, the golden rays dissipated and Wendy collapsed to the ground, apparently having passed out

Claire immediately rushed to her sister to assess her condition in the wake of her ordeal. To her relief, Wendy seemed okay. However, as she ran her eyes over her cute sister’s body, she discovered that, as a matter which quickly displaced Claire’s concern for her sister’s well-being, when Wendy had collapsed, the ripped remains of her top had fallen off her body, so that now the teen’s firm, youthful breasts were completely exposed to her older sister.

Wow… Those are…those are beautiful…and so…so big…and firm… I didn’t know my little sister had been growing so much…and isn’t so “little” any more… It’s okay if I look… I’m just making sure she’s okay... that’s all... It’s what a good sister would do.

However, belying her profession to herself of concern for her sister’s condition, instead of checking for breathing and a pulse, Claire, feeling a magnetic compulsion drawing her, dropped her right hand onto her sister’s naked ribcage and, after a moment of ogling and excited anticipation, slipped the hand over Wendy’s left breast. After letting the exquisite feel of her sister’s young tit sink in for several seconds, she began to play with the shapely mound.

Ohhh… It feels soooo nice…so smooth…so soft... Wendy is such a beautiful young woman… I can’t believe I never noticed it before…noticed her before…like this… Mmmmm… so beautiful...so sexy… Claire took the unoccupied breast in her other hand, and ran her fingers around and over it’s growing nipple. Next time I come home... maybe I should take her out... a sisters’ night out on the town… Who knows what could happen between two sisters… two sexy sisters…

As Claire continued her sensual exploration of Wendy’s gorgeous breasts, she heard a few soft, sensual whimpers coming out of her sister’s mouth. Claire found that to be so adorable. A few seconds later, Wendy started to stir.

“Cla... Claire...” Claire still had a firm grasp on Wendy’s ample breasts. A clearly sexual moan escaped the younger sister’s lips. At length she was awake enough to speak coherently, at which point Claire reluctantly released her sister’s precious teen orbs.

Wendy flashed her beloved Big Sis a warm smile. “I knew you could do it, Claire!. So proud of my big, sexy sister…the lesbian.”

“Are you okay, Wendy, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine, Claire... Oh, my Goddess! Mom! Claire, you have to help mom!”

“Calm down, Wendy. Freaking out isn’t going help anyone. Stay calm, listen to me, and we’ll get through this,” Claire announced in a harsh, authoritative tone. “Got it?!”

Wendy only nodded her head in silent acquiescence.

Not sure why I took that tone with Wendy. That’s not like me… but...it did kind of feel good.

Claire attributed the severe tone she took with Wendy to her frustration with Wendy for having caused an abortion to her make-out session with her awesome, would-be Asian lover before it could evolve into full-out love-making on the bed. But she knew that Wendy was right, in that she had an important task to complete, and doing it couldn’t wait.

Claire sauntered in her high heels closer to the large doorway, with Abby—who had pulled her dress back into place—and Wendy by her side. However, she couldn’t help but feel that something was wrong. The sensation got stronger the nearer they got to the doorway. Looking upwards at the facade of the huge building, searching for some clues to explain her dark premonition, she could see more details of its design. There were multiple stone gargoyles with menacing postures and faces perched on various places at various heights, seemingly defying gravity. In between those were three-dimensional carvings of naked females in various sexually suggestive poses, some in solitude and some depicted with other females in Sapphic acts. As Claire watched, every few seconds one or another of the pornographic figures would change, each time the woman or women portrayed becoming wrapped up by large serpents or assaulted by some other monstrous entity.

The disturbing sight set off a silent alarm in Claire’s mind. I need to stop the marriage between my mom and this demon... It’s wrong.. It doesn’t feel natural for Mom to wed... something like that. As soon as that thought had finished, Claire felt a sudden headache. She pressed her fingers to the temples of her head, rubbing them gently in an attempt to sooth the pain that seemingly came out of nowhere. Then she realized why; it wasn’t that what she had thought was wrong, but that she hadn’t pursued her thoughts far enough pertaining to her mother and marriage.

Mom should marry someone… That would be okay… Just not anyone like that creature…like, for instance, a man… The headache started to resolve, letting Claire know she was finding the right track, and further enlightenment seemed to follow.

If she doesn’t need a man…then…she must need…a woman. Not only was the headache now all gone, but sweet confirmation pored over her in warm confirmation. That would mean that she needs…she needs a…a lesbian…to love her…to be her companion…and lover…and her wife…

Even though Mom has resisted lesbianism…and fooling around…through her life… She’s been so straight-arrow…so prim and proper… But maybe she didn’t know what was best for her…

I need to be honest with myself. Only a lesbian can be the right kind of lover for Mom...Certainly not that foul, unholy abomination…or anything like it… I’ll be damned if I let that… that…thing...marry Mom!

Upon finishing that line of thought, Claire stopped in her tracks. Did she have the ability to stop this unholy union? She was going to face a demon, and all she had was her sister, Abby, and... Oh my Goddess! Jessica! Where’s Jessica?! In all the hubbub, Claire had forgotten about Jessica. Where was she? Why wasn’t she by her side?

“Something wrong, Claire?” asked Wendy.

“Jessica! Did you see Jessica?” Claire asked in a panicked tone.

“Jessica? Who’s Jessica, Claire? I only saw you and that hottie Asian. I didn’t see anyone else.”

“Something wrong, my beloved?” asked Abby.

“Jessica… Did you see Jessica?”

“I... I don’t know. Last time I saw her, I think she was standing behind your sister.”

Claire gave Wendy a withering stare. First, somehow Wendy had gotten their mother abducted by a demon, and now she had lost Claire’s girlfriend. All Wendy could do was give her older sister a nervous smile.

“We have to go back and find her.”

“We can’t.”

“What do you mean we can’t, Wendy?”

“We have to go through now. You heard the voice…the voice that talked to you through me. We can’t spend any more time out here. And once we go through, if you then leave this church, you can’t go back in again. The voice told me that. It only had enough power to get us past the demon’s magic seal once. It won’t be able to do it again.”

“What?!” Not only had Wendy somehow lost Jessica, Claire’s mind suggested to her, even though it wasn’t a particularly logical conclusion, but now, seemingly because of her little sister, according to the same kind of flawed reasoning, they weren’t going to be able to track Jessica down, at least not right now. Claire’s incensed stare focused on Wendy became yet more sour. Wendy bowed her head in mortification, deserved or not, under the weight of Claire’s obvious condemnation.

“Beloved, Jessica’s probably fine,” Abby offered in an assuring tone. “She could be trying to find another way to help us out. However, don’t forget that you’re here to rescue your mother from that unholy abomination. That’s got to be your first priority right now.”

“You’re right, Abby. All I can do is just live with it and hope for the best. Come on, let’s go rescue Mary!”

Abby stepped toward the open doorway, holding Claire’s left arm and gently tugging on it, encouraging Claire to proceed with her through it. A small voice in the back of Claire’s mind told her something was wrong, that there was danger for her soul lurking somewhere beyond the doorway, that her life and her nature might be altered by the impending adventure, and possibly not in ways she would otherwise choose, but she was unable to put her finger on anything specific, on why her current course of action was wrong. There was a brief mental tug-o-war in her mind before Claire succumbed to the Asian girl’s guiding hand and allowed herself to be led through the imposing doorway of the massive Gothic building.

Inside, Claire saw huge stained-glass windows depicting Sapphic imagery similar to what she had seen in the windows of the dressing room earlier, except this was even more deviant and erotic in nature, as well as being much grander in scale. She again recognized them as pornographic, and was once again taken aback with a degree of shock. She knew she was not the type of girl who should be interested in such things, but the artistry of these works was so beautiful, and the depictions had no disturbing heterosexual content, only the less wicked and more pleasing subject matter of women with women, she told herself, and so, fascinated, she allowed her eyes and her soul to drink in the lewd depictions in the windows, finding arousal in them, despite understanding that that pleasure was rather naughty. Ere she knew it, she found herself getting lost in the wondrous, prurient windows. However, at length as she gazed upon them, the images changed from erotic Sapphic depictions into nightmarish pictures of women being violated by demonic men. The new forms were too revolting, and she turned away.

In front of her was a long, red carpeted walkway. On each of side of the aisle were rows upon rows of pews. There were only a few people sitting in them. Claire was unable to discern who they were because they were all dressed in black hooded robes and faced toward the front.

Turning her attention to the far end of the walkway, she saw a wide, elevated platform on which stood an altar, in front of which the bride and the demonic entity stood side-by-side, two beings, seemingly irreconcilably different, preparing to become one, the one a gnarled-looking male demon wearing a black cape, and the other a middle-aged woman whose loveliness, as well as her apparent drugged state, was visible even from a distance. They faced each other, the demon looking into the woman’s eyes with a sickening visage of crass lechery, while holding each of her soft, manicured hands in his greasy, wart-infested paws. The fetching woman, his exact opposite, was dressed in a exotic wedding gown.

It occurred to Claire, guided as her impressions were by Hecate mind-altering devices, that the demon reminded her of someone. …Who is it?……. Oh! My dad! How can that be? Is he…is he a demon? I never thought of my dad as so ugly…and so revolting…but…he is… He’s a man… He’s not fit for my mother… He’s not fit to touch her! No demon-man is! Why would any pretty woman get into a situation like this? Unless…unless she were tricked…or forced…by a slobbering man-pig like this one…

Standing behind the altar facing the couple was a tall, elegant woman dressed in an elaborate gold dress which shimmered brilliantly. It was to be seen that she was also bound in silver chains and was fidgeting, trying to free herself. Her body language and disdainful facial expression clearly indicated that she did not want to be there—or, at least, that she had no desire to spend any time whatever in the presence of the foul demonic creature who was standing before her.

A cacophony of female voices whispered into Claire’s ears, but she couldn’t make out what the words were at first because they were faint. As Claire walked closer to the altar, the voices and the emotional states attached to them became easier to discern. Generally, they sounded as if they were in distress, manifesting as faint sounds of crying and anger.

Approaching the individuals at the altar, she could see them more clearly. The bride was definitely her mother and the tall woman presiding over them both she recognized to be…Serena Powers…her Goddess!!

Serena, the tallest female of the three players on the dais, wore a glamorous though revealing outfit made exclusively from pure gold. It consisted of a bra and panties set made from interleaved golden metallic scales and plates, which could be seen, when this close, through the figure-hugging, glimmering, diaphanous dress and a sheer cloak, both made from fine, woven gold thread. The top of the cape was held by a golden clasp around her neck, from which the cape fanned out, open in the front, and draped over her shoulders to half-way down her back. Her long, pearly platinum blonde hair was arranged in a simple style which flowed from her head to her hips and was crowned with a golden tiara. Her lips and nails were brilliant red, her eyelashes were long, black, and curled, and her eyeshadow was of a glittery gold shade. Her red-nailed feet stood on golden high-heeled sandals. A faint golden aura emanated from Serena’s body, but it seemed to be muted from the glory it otherwise could radiate by the silver chains around her, which were controlled via a chain leash held by the demonic groom.

The sudden recognition of the identity of this queenly woman immediately shot Claire into the clouds. She had been programmed, like a dog trained to salivate automatically upon hearing a bell, to swoon like a schoolgirl for her crush whenever she saw Goddess, or even heard her name, or just thought about her; but to be in her revered presence, a mere twenty feet away like she was now, especially given Goddess’s wondrous and licentious appearance there in the chapel on this day, was guaranteed to make her face flush, her pulse race, her head spin, and her nipples tingle, as they did now. Claire spaced out for a second before she regained command of herself.

Managing to finally tear her eyes away from the Divine One, she turned toward Mary, only to find a sight so splendidly erotic that it sent Claire directly back into the stratosphere. Claire had never seen or imagined ever seeing her mother like this or remotely close to it.

Claire’s mother was dressed in a wedding gown that was similar in design to normal wedding gowns except that the bodice was cut-out specially to expose her creamy and deep cleavage and it was made from a sheer, iridescent organza material that plainly revealed Mary’s voluptuous, semi-naked body and her skimpy underwear underneath the dress, so that they were clearly visible to all those in attendance. A lustrous, red leather shelf bra held and lifted her titanic, swaying F-cup breasts and displayed her wide, red-painted areolae and their long, hard red nipples. Around her hips were leather thong panties that passed as a miniscule slice between her legs and split her desirable rump into soft, pillowy cheeks. Also visible were sheer red stockings suspended by a red leather garter belt and five-inch red high heels.

Glossy, bright ruby-red lipstick covered her lips, matching the color of her long, almond-shaped nails, although Goddess’s shade of red was brighter yet. Her eyelashes were long, curly, and thickened heavily with black mascara. Silver and black frosted eye shadow colored her eyelids. Red ruby earrings dangled from her ears. A matching ruby pendant necklace hung from her neck. On her left arm was an armlet that consisted of a filigreed onyx band bearing interlocked male and female gender symbols formed by a pattern of small red rubies. Perhaps her most dramatic feature, however, was her hair—no longer blonde, but dyed into a shimmering ruby red color and fashioned into a half-up style, with a prominent braided crown.

Claire gasped in awe and surprise at the sight in front of her, overwhelmed by the sexy beauty of her mother. She stared with her mouth open and felt an immediate rush of wetness and a quivering of lust and love in her pussy. If Claire had never seen Mary before, her reaction might have been called love at first sight, but Claire’s smitten state was such that it could be called that, just the same.

So taken was Claire visually that she hadn’t quite noticed that the ceremony was beginning and hadn’t paid attention to the words that were being spoken, until she heard Mary’s tentative, weak voice, which bespoke her misery and aversion.

“In the name of...profane...male…chauvinistic…matrimony...I…Mary Livingston… take you…Bruce…to be my.......” A sob tore from her throat. “Please don’t make me say it! I’m begging you!”

“Complete the oath, whore!” snarled the demon. “Or I swear that I’ll make you suffer torments beyond female comprehension!”

“...my husband… sob……. I take you... Bruce…to be my... husband…to have.... and to hold…uhg!...from this day forward…for better, for worse…for richer, for poorer…in sickness and in health…to love and to cherish…aghh…until death do us part.” The bride appeared to be on the verge of collapse, or of vomiting, and tears were streaking down her face. “This...this is my...sniff…my solemn vow.”

It was very clear to Claire that Mary did not want to partake of this unholy union and was being forced into it. She had to find a way to free Mary, and soon, before this wedding spiraled to a final, permanent conclusion.

The demonic groom yanked on the chains binding Serena, forcing her to speak. Her voice was full of contempt for this union, but she maintained a calm yet powerful demeanor. “If any of you has reasons as to why these two should not be married…if anyone here believes that this marriage is unjust and immoral and unnatural and repugnant…should anyone feel moved upon to free this poor bride from this wretched creature…I urge you to find the strength to dutifully and courageously speak up now…or...to your shame and everlasting regret…forever hold your peace.” Claire saw that Goddess was staring directly at her.

A feeling that the premise being urged upon her in this situation was not right—namely that heterosexual union was evil and oppressive, and that women needed to be saved from it, her mother in particular—crept into Claire’s mind, but almost immediately, it was replaced by an even stronger feeling. It was a feeling of lust for her mother.

Why am I feeling this way towards my mom? Something’s not right… I shouldn’t be feeling this way… Claire felt a headache again. She wanted it to go away, and she perceived that yielding to the lesbian desires for her mother that were coming over her, and thinking about the situation the same way that Goddess seemed to, would accomplish that. But…I do have these…desires… They feel good… And I want to save my mother… Men, after all, are…slimy brutes… True enough, the pain subsided.

Abby abruptly squeezed Claire’s left hand. “Claire, this is your chance!”

“What do you mean?”

“You can have your mother, instead of him getting her, Claire. She can be yours…if you want her. Not as your mother…but as your lover…and as your wife. It is the only way to save her. And only you can do it. Only you can save her. I know you want this. Search yourself deeply, Claire.”

Claire did not pause to question the logic of the situation. She had found that few things in this realm comported to the normal rules of logic and reason; passion alone seemed to reign supreme there. Also, the onset of headaches from time to time had taught her not to question things too deeply there. Still, Abby’s pronouncement was startling.

“But…marry…marry my own…mother…?”

“You love your mom, don’t you?”

“Yes, but…” Claire hesitated, finding herself confused at her feelings.

“Claire this is the only chance you have! It’s either let the demon marry your mom or you do it. Free her and admit your feelings for her… Declare that it is you who wants her…as a lover…that it is you who will take her…as your wife. Do you really want that thing to marry her? If he does, then you’ll lose Mary, me, your sister, Jessica, and Goddess forever.”

Claire cast her gaze downward, avoiding eye contact with Abby, to do some soul-searching, looking within to find the best response. First, she found the news that she would lose Abby to be shocking. She definitely had “unfinished business” with her, and couldn’t bear the possibility of never seeing her again. When she thought of Jessica, she felt exactly the same way. As for her sister, yes, she had been rather negligent, cheeky, and aggravating today, but what a little fox she had become, too, one Claire knew she wanted to keep around, as well. And the loss of affiliation with Goddess…that possibility was entirely untenable; it was simply unimaginable. Then Claire turned her mind toward Mary, analyzing her feelings for her.

Claire acknowledged that her mom had been involved with every moment of her life, so of course they had a strong, deep emotional bond. But was it the kind of bond that should involve sexual intimacy? Then something clicked within Claire’s mind. She realized—or, at least she believed it was her own mind discovering an insight, rather than an instrument tampering with her brain in a Hecate lab—that she modeled herself after her mother not because she wanted to be like her but to become her ideal mate. A voice from the darkest reaches of her subconscious helped Claire make the decision that the right person for Mary could only be a woman, a lesbian woman, and that she, Claire, was the right woman, that Mary was rightfully hers, and that the demon was an interloper in their natural, destined romantic and sexual union.

“…no…” Mary whispered back to Abby and as her response left her mouth Claire felt a sharp twinge of anger, annoyed that she was even here at this sham of a wedding, that she and her mother and the Goddess had to stand there and listen to this farce, and that this man had the audacity to try to take something that was hers.

“So will you sit back and let this marriage happen?”

“Absolutely not!” This time there was a mixture of contempt and firming resolve in her response.

“Well, what are you going to do about it?”

“I’ll show you what I’m going to do about it!”

Claire reached over and placed her hand behind Abby’s silkily black-haired head, forcibly drawing her in, and locked herself and Abby in a deep kiss. Like before, Claire was the instigator and invaded Abby’s mouth with her tongue, tasting the girl-sweetness in the cute Asian.

Disengaging herself, a shiny thread of saliva connected their lipstick-smeared lips. Abby was dazed, but happy, at the ferocity and vigor that Claire used to kiss her. For Claire, that invigorating, thrilling, sexy delight helped her muster the strength to finally do what needed to be done. Looking at the alluring Asian teen, Claire sang, “For good luck, my love!” and marched forward.

Coming to a halt before the altar, Claire stood there a few moments while the chapel fell into a hush, all eyes upon her. Then, with a resounding voice, Claire broke the silence.

“I object to the marriage between Mary and this unholy creature who calls itself a man!”

“What reason do you have to oppose this marriage?” quarried Serena formally.

“On the grounds that I am Mary Love-Livingston’s true love, and that the groom that stands next to her is nothing more than a fraud, and an interloper in our relationship! He does not love her, and cannot, for he is a man, and by definition is incapable of honesty and real love! And she loathes him. But she does love me, as I love her! I claim Mary as my bride!”

“How dare you say that!” bellowed the demon in rage, as he raised his arms in the air. “You foul bitch! I knew I should have…”

“Silence!” Claire decreed with a thunderous, authoritative tone that echoed within the church. It was sufficient to bring a momentary stop to the demon’s tirade and for a quick shadow of fear to pass over his gruesome countenance, before he recovered.

“No, you can’t do this!” The enraged male stepped toward Claire menacingly, appearing intent on settling the dispute with raw aggression, by reigning down a blow on the young blonde woman with his ham-like clenched fist “I won’t allow it! Not on my wedding…” Before the demonic groom was able to finish his furious objection, Claire closed the distance between them and drove her fist straight into the demon’s gut, causing him to scream in agony and collapse onto the church floor.

Then Claire found that a novel power was gathering inside her arm. She felt her feminine emotions and desires, especially her new ones—her anger, her aggression, her Sapphic love, her lesbian cravings, her lust—draw toward her fist and concentrate there. They literally heated, ignited, and burst into a flame. Claire focused on drawing as much strength, intensifying her flaming fist, as far as she could. Then she jumped on the beast and drove her fiery fist, that burned with the power of lesbian love, into the demon’s chest and straight into his evil heart, killing him instantly, the foul black goo that was his blood spattering onto the floor.

As the emotions flowed through her body, Claire felt the pleasures they offered and a cessation of that annoying itch, as though it had finally been properly scratched. Claire could hear faint voices within her mind applaud her for her deed and praise her for her bravery in slaying this demon—this hell-spawned man—and to claim her mother as a bride.

Soon there was an explosion of bright light that filled the church. When the light subsided sufficiently to permit vision, Claire looked around, taking notice of the changes. No longer did the Sapphic imagery that adorned the church fluctuate between their original forms and ghastly nightmare images. The robed figures in attendance removed their hoods and were revealed to be beautiful women. Her mother, now freed from an awful fate, beamed with relief and happiness. And, of perhaps the greatest importance to Claire, her emotions told her, was that Goddess was free, no longer shackled by the chains of the hideous male being. Golden light radiated from her now without restraint.

Claire turned to face the Divine One.

“Claire Amanda Love-Livingston. You have done a great deed for lesbian women everywhere. You have purged the foul demon who would have enslaved your mother and destroyed the love you held for her, your sister, and the other women in your life. And you have freed me, your goddess-queen. So, by my divine power, I will grant you a wish. Speak your heart’s desire and I will make it so.”

It didn’t take long for Claire to think things over. She could have requested world peace, the ending of world hunger, or the cure to all diseases in the world. She also had the impulse to ask Goddess to marry her and her mother right then and there. However, there was one other thing that she wanted preeminently in that moment, something she knew she had to address before anything else, and something which she sensed only the power of Goddess could help her with.

“Jessica...”

“Yes, my dear?”

“Jessica was with me and all of a sudden... I brought her here with me and now... Please tell me where Jessica is! If it’s within your power, please bring her back to me.”

“So be it. Your wish is granted.” With a wave of her hand, Jessica appeared before Claire and all in attendance, hovering in the air—but not all was right. The Goddess levitated Jessica’s body onto the long altar, where it came to rest face-up, eyes closed, hands folded together on her stomach, a look of peaceful sleep on her face, reminding Claire of a picture of Sleeping Beauty she had seen in a storybook as a child. And she was completely naked.

“Unfortunately, the demon knew that you would break through his barrier and he laid a trap. As soon as you awakened your inner lesbian spirit, he teleported Jessica away and placed a curse on her.”

“Then please lift it! Please give me back my best—no—my girlfriend.”

“I’m sorry, Claire, but the curse is old, from a time and place beyond my powers to lift such a foul spell...”

“There has to be a way. Oh, dear Goddess, please, I implore you to help me lift this curse on my sweet girlfriend.”

A sullen silence filled the church as Claire silently pleaded with her eyes to the divine Serena Powers for help. At this moment, Claire would have given anything to get her girlfriend back, and if her eternal soul would be forfeit, then so be it as far as Claire was concerned. She wanted her sexy friend back and no price was too high, as far as she was concerned.

However, the mental apparition of Serena Powers which resided within this particular brainwashing session knew this and was going to capitalize on it.

“The curse is old and primal, but there might be a way to lift it from your girlfriend. You seem to love her very much, and this moves me. However, are you truly willing to commit yourself, your soul, your all, to see the spell lifted?”

“Yes!” Claire declared with all the strength she could muster as she stared at Jessica’s sedated form. Claire felt further emboldened by taking in the seductive curves of her friend’s body, from the gorgeous round shape of her ample breasts to Jessica’s wide, enticing, sexy hips to the womanly slit between her legs. “For her…I would do anything.”

“So be it! Claire Amanda Love-Livingston, you have made your choice. To save the life of this loved one, you must relinquish the love you have for another. It must be someone for whom you genuinely care greatly. I invoke the Rite of Dominance and Love. Now choose… Whose love will you sacrifice for your love of Jessica?

A tingle of fear crept up Claire’s spine. She had to give up the love she had for someone…but who? As she looked at the small group around her, Claire started to review the options in her head.

She looked at Abby. While she felt a mysterious and powerful attraction to the fetching Japanese temptress, Claire didn’t know the foxy Japanese coed standing in front of her all that well, at least not yet. Claire knew that the love she felt for her was new love. Maybe, right now, it was shallow love. It definitely included lust and sexual desire, without question, but it was not necessarily the kind of deep love that’s forged over time. Not yet. Giving her up wouldn’t qualify as the major sacrifice that Goddess implied it had to be. So she knew that her relationship with Abby would not be the right one to sacrifice. And, besides, she didn’t want to give Abby up. Not Abby.

Then her eyes drifted to Mary…sexy Mary…the woman who gave her birth and raised her…and, of much more importance to Claire now, the woman whose legs she wanted to get between. No, not her. Not after going through all this. She is mine, and I am hers, now. She is too beautiful. I must have her. There is no way I can give up the love I feel for Mary. Definitely not her.

Finally, her eyes landed on her sister, Wendy—topless, with only a tattered skirt partially covering the rest of her modesty. Wendy? I guess I could live without her… But she’s my sister. Do I really want to sacrifice the love I have for Wendy in order to free Jessica? And look at those cute titties on her… Wow… She’s sooo cute… I do love her dearly…and…she and I…could become even closer… We could become…more than sisters…much more… That would be…very, very nice… Is she the one I could sacrifice?... I can’t imagine it… I don’t know…

As if she sensed the dilemma that Claire was going through, Wendy walked over to her and wrapped her arms around her as she nuzzled her face against Claire’s breasts.

“Claire… pick me…as the one to give up. You know that it’s the right choice to make...”

“What? Why, Wendy? Maybe there’s anoth…”

“No, Claire, there isn’t and you know this needs to be done. It’s my fault this happened. I failed you, Claire, and… this is the only way I can make things right.”

“Wendy…” Tears were streaming down Claire’s face as she acknowledged the sacrifice that her little sister was willing to make.

“Claire, I just want to let you know that I love you. I always have and that… you were more like a mother to me than a sister.”

“Wendy, come on. I was three when you were born…”

“I mean it, Claire! You were there for just about every important moment in my life. My first steps, comforting me during thunderstorms, helping me learn how to ride a bike, teaching me about makeup…and…how to use my first tampon…” Wendy ended her maternal admiration of Claire with a mischievous smile, knowing the reference to a tampon would make Claire recall seeing Wendy’s adolescent pussy when Claire gave her that instruction about feminine hygiene, and that Claire would now start thinking about that pretty pussy…which she did, and it gave her an injection of carnal desire for the teen.

The choice for Claire had now come to this: Should she keep her sibling relationship with the girl she had known and loved with a sweet, protective love, with whom she had grown up and whom she had cared for all these years? Should family come first, as Mary had taught her? Or should she give in to the lust for lesbian sex and romance with Jessica which had just started to consume her that day? Should she put her self-centered desires for carnal pleasure and for securing Jessica as her lover ahead of family loyalty and closeness?

Just then, a set of new attitudes were sent into the back of Claire’s mind.

Choose to let Wendy go…and to keep Jessica…

You don’t care about your family…only about sex…

Being loyal doesn’t matter… It’s okay to use other people to get what you want…

Use Wendy for sex… That’s all she’s good for…

Use Wendy to get Jessica…to get pleasure...to get lesbian sex…

Sexual pleasure comes first… Choose pleasure over duty…

Say yes to Wendy’s offer… She’s unimportant… Let go of her as your sister…but use her for your own pleasure.

A chill started to wash over Claire, and her attitude about Wendy started to change. The Claire of a few days ago would not have put anything or anyone ahead of her sister in terms of helping and protecting her, and would not have for one second even considered abandoning their relationship as sisters, especially for her own personal self-gratification or to save a romantic relationship with someone else, and would never have taken advantage of Wendy by seeking a sexual relationship with her. Her staunch resolve on such issues had been proven by her resistance to Regina’s hypnotic suggestions earlier to try to make Claire see Wendy as a potential sexual partner, which resistance tonight’s more intensive indoctrination was designed to break down. And this night’s stronger conditioning was indeed succeeding. Claire could feel that cherished, life-long attitude slipping away from her.

“Wendy… I… I shouldn’t let you do this… Are you sure you don’t mind? I’ll never forget this…”

“Actually, you will. It’s all part of the ritual. Now enough with this mopey dopey emotional BS. I only ask one payment from you for my sacrifice…the only thing I’ve ever really wanted from you… Claire, my beautiful and sexy big sister… Please…at last… kiss me!!” Wendy lunged at her sister and engaged her in a passionate kiss.

Claire was taken aback by the ardent boldness of her sister, but within seconds she relaxed enough for Wendy to slide her tongue into her older sister’s mouth. They then pursued a mutual, sensual, and wet exploration of each other’s oral cavity. At last, Wendy disengaged from her sister’s mouth and looked into Claire’s eyes.

“Oh, and one other thing… I love Mom, too…like…you know…the same way you do now too … Would you mind if Mom and I…uh…became lovers…? I know you probably want her all to yourself, and I understand that, but…but can’t we share her? Pleeeaase?”

Claire looked at Mary, who nodded her head in eager approval with a smile. Claire also found herself liking the idea of Mary and Wendy as a lesbian couple, seeing no conflict in that with her own claim to Mary, in the wake of new, lenient sentiments about promiscuity which had been getting instilled into her. “Okay… Just as long as you don’t get in my way when I want her! Remember, after this rite you belong to me... slut. Your cunt, ass, tits they belong to me. You’ll be my personal lesbian fuck slave from this point on, understand?!

“Oh, thank you, thank you, Sis!” Once again Wendy threw her arms around Claire and gave her a big kiss.

Wendy then put on a cute, naughty little girl’s “I’ve-been-caught” expression, wanting to encourage Claire to get sexually aggressive with her. “I’ve been a bad girl, Mommy, a very bad girl. I think I need to be punished, Mommy.”

Claire, still in a bit of a daze from the passionate kisses which had just knocked her socks off, stared at her pretty, topless little sister, desire for her rising in her veins. At first, she was about to change her mind, and to choose Wendy over Jessica, to pursue a romantic love affair with her sister, so alluring was Little Sis and so sweet her kiss…but then she again heard voices in her head…

Wendy’s too careless and too sassy… She deserves to be punished…

It’s okay for you to hurt people… You want to hurt people…

it’s okay to hurt Wendy…as long as you get what you want…

It’s not important that she’s your sister… You don’t want a sister like that…

Sisters don’t matter… Family doesn’t matter…

Only lesbian sex matters… Only pussies matter… Only pleasure matters…

You’d rather have a sexy girlfriend like Jessica than an insolent, negligent sister like Wendy.

You want to hurt Wendy… Make her suffer…

The kind disposition Claire had ever felt toward her little sister continued to shrivel.

Wendy repeated her temptation. “Come on, Mommy. Hurt me. Fuck me. I want it sooo bad.”

Good, good. She wants it. Dominate her, Claire. Show your sister who’s in charge.

You want to sexually dominate her.

You seek to make Wendy your personal lesbian fuck slut.

You are better when you are a vulgar, deceitful, selfish, heartless woman.

Mary is no longer your role model. She is too much of a goody-goody prude. You never want to be like her. You only seek to fuck her, and corrupt her.

Serena Powers is your new ideal. And Regina Burke is a much better role model for you than Mary, too… Lesbian women… sexy women…women who have lesbian sex with any pretty woman or girl they want…heartless and dominant women who take what they want…they are your new pattern… Regina Burke is your new mother…

You have no desire to be an honest, kind-hearted, merciful woman.

Your true desire in life is to corrupt women into becoming lesbians.

The only person who will always be superior to you is the Goddess, Serena Powers. You can have your way with other women and girls as long as you serve her.

Wendy is a brat. Wendy has screwed up, big time. Wendy no longer deserves to be your sister. Wendy is only a sexy little tramp, to be used and abused by you. She wants it. She wants you to fuck her and to hurt her. You want that, too. Give her what she wants…what you want…

You know what you need to do next.

Taking a deep breath Claire felt something well within her being. It felt foreign, cold, as if it didn’t belong inside her. The frigid sensation spread across her body, causing Claire to feel things that were new to her, corrupting, enticing sensations and desires that felt dangerous, dark, strange, and mysteriously delicious—cruelty… malice… hostility… accusation… rage… intolerance… callousness… deception… manipulation… thirst for power…desire to dominate…vanity…intense lust…for girls…

Wendy’s on her own now… She’s so incompetent and cheeky… She deserves whatever happens to her… If she has to be hurt for me to have Jessica, that’s her problem. I really only want Wendy’s body… I only want her for sex… She’s not that important to me for anything else… If she wants this so bad, I’ll give it to her.

“Claire, my daughter!” rang Serena’s voice like music. “Do you feel it? You are changing... The nice little prude girl that you used to be is leaving… You don’t want to be her anymore… Let her go… The bad girl you really want to be is assuming control…From now on…there will be no more good girl… no more wholesomeness…no more honesty… no more kindness… no more compassion…no more nice… It feels soooo good… Now you need to look the part…”

A blast of freezing air and slushy ice descended on Claire, enveloping her and solidifying around her, until she was imprisoned. The cold penetrated through her clothes, her skin, her blood, her muscles, her bones, her brain, and her heart, freezing everything. The immobility and the all-permeating chill lasted until Claire felt all warmth within her extinguished, her every last cell frozen, and, with the paralyzing cold, her soul transformed.

At length a light, a cool blue light, sprang up in her heart, a light she knew had come from Goddess, radiating out and thawing all, until the final shell of ice around her shattered into a thousand pieces, Goddess liberating her at last, as Claire had liberated Goddess and Mary.

The same lesbian-themed full-body mirror Claire had used in the dressing room materialized next to the altar. Claire gasped at her reflection.

Claire’s hair, now pure silver in color, was pulled back from her face in a severe, high ponytail, her shiny metallic tresses flowing as if quicksilver gushing from a fountain on top of her head and fanning out over her head, shoulders and back down to her waist. The makeup on her face was thicker and bolder, her lips blood red and outlined with black, her eyelids laden with heavier applications of black mascara and eyeliner and with silver, graphite, and blue-black eyeshadows, her cheeks red with blush, all contrasting dramatically with the skin of her face and body, now ivory-white. Her breasts now were two cup sizes larger, her waist two inches narrower, her hips two inches wider, and her legs longer. Her long, sharp-pointed fingernails were shiny blackish blood-red, and her choker-style necklace, big hoop earrings, bracelets, and eyebrow and navel rings were of silver and onyx. Her outfit consisted of a shiny, completely transparent, high-necked, black silk micro dress, with short puffed sleeves, a skin-tight bodice and a flirty, loose little skirt extending not quite to the bottom of her bum. It could be plainly seen that she wore neither bra nor panties underneath the dress, her almost-black blood-red nipples and shaven vagina with lips of the same color the most prominent and lewd evidences of that state. She also wore five-inch, silver-spike-heeled, thigh-high platform boots of tight, glossy black leather and fingerless gloves which ascended half-way up her upper arm, also of shiny black leather. A tattoo around her upper left arm, just above the edge of her glove, which looked like black barbed wire dripping with dark red blood, completed her new look.

While Claire had never dreamed of wearing anything close to this, and was shocked by her new appearance at first, she—as directed by the instrumentation in Hecate’s lab controlling her—rapidly started feeling not only most natural and comfortable in it, and in wantonly displaying all of her considerable feminine charms, but euphoric with her current appearance and exhibition, as well.

Wow!… That’s…that’s me?!...... Hmmm… Not bad… Belief dawned on her that she had always wanted to look exactly like this. Not bad at all… Yessssss. Her concluding sentiment was that this was so her, at least at this moment, for the task at hand. She loved it.

Claire turned to face the Divine One. “Oh, revered Majesty… I thank you for…for this…”

“Claire Amanda Love-Livingston… This is only one of my many rewards for your loyal service to me. Now, are you ready to continue?”

Taking another look at her new self in the mirror, sharp need to immediately indulge her new, wicked promptings, and to act the part which she now looked, swelled within her.

“Oh, yes, your glorious Highness! I most certainly am!” Even though talking to her Goddess, her words lacked warmth, a new, aloof, hard, worldly coolness now characterizing her speech and manner.

She turned her sights on her younger sister, Wendy, who clearly was completely taken with her big sister’s amazing new appearance, and who, in an obvious attempt to flirt, gave Claire a look which was at once playfully impudent and openly inviting.

However, as Wendy deciphered the new, cool glaze on her sister’s face, bespeaking only emotional coldness and ruthless contempt, her expression turned into one of paralyzing apprehension—reflecting the facts that Wendy hadn’t comprehended that this act of sacrifice could become very rough, that she, as an impulsive and horny teenager, had volunteered for it supposing that there would be more play and sexy fun than pain in it, and that she was now beginning to see that what she had gotten herself into could be more severe than what she had expected and wanted. All she really wanted was sex with her amazing, sexy big sister, but it looked now that she was in for more than that…

“Uh…Claire… Wait… I think I want to change my mind. Can I back …”

“Shut up, you little slut! And, no, you can’t ‘back out’. It’s too late for that! You will submit to me, completely and forever!!”

Marching over to Wendy, she began to claw at and tear away the remnants of Wendy’s tattered clothing and didn’t stop until the young woman’s flesh was entirely exposed for all to see. This seemed to be the most appropriate conceivable state for her sister, one she now knew she had craved to see, and would want to be seeing often in the future. She felt her lust for the girl rise more as she devoured her naked teenaged form with her eyes.

But then, recalling the problems of this day and their connection to Wendy, a torrent of wrath joined the arousal within her. “This is how you repay me?! I helped raise you, I sacrificed my time for you, I treated you like… like… like my own daughter and this is how you repay me?! You had one simple task and you couldn’t even do that! All you had to do was keep Mary safe!”

“No Claire… please! It’s not like that! It’s just that you were away and…”

“Enough with the lies, Wendy! Obviously I’ve been too lax and spoiled you. As of now, that changes!”

Claire dragged Wendy to the edge of the long altar and forced her to bend over it, backside up, not far from Jessica’s inert body. Claire kicked Wendy’s legs apart, exposing her intimate private area between her thighs for all in attendance to see. Claire could hear approving whispers from the robed women in the audience endorsing her actions. Knowing of the voyeuristic pleasure she must be creating for them further increased the lust welling inside Claire’s body. She would be putting on an obscene, smutty show for them, and the prospect turned her on.

Claire looked at her mother and noticed that she seemed to be aroused by this, as well. She could see Mary’s nipples stiffen through her bridal dress. One of Mary’s hands massaged one of her large breasts, and as their eyes met, Claire saw Mary give her an approving, lust-filled nod.

Claire then turned her gaze to the beautiful Goddess, Serena Powers, the supreme woman who was presiding over the Rite of Dominating involving her incompetent sister. Claire briefly lost herself in Serena’s divine beauty and felt a desire to explore the woman’s heavenly body on a more intimate level. However, Claire regained her focus, as she had a more pressing matter to take care of.

“Oh Goddess, I accept and enter the Rite of Domination. If I can get this… this…” It was hard for Claire to get the words out, as if something within her, a faint warmth, was desperately trying to struggle against the cold darkness that had permeated her body. However, the struggle didn’t last long, as Claire regained her composure. “…can get this bitch to submit to me, then that will constitute ample proof that she is unfit of my love and protection and by that right Wendy Love-Livingston should be declared my personal whore. Wendy’s new role in my life will be to be my sexual plaything, to slate all my sexual desires.”

Serena nodded. “So be it. Prove to all in attendance that you are worthy of having Wendy as your personal lesbian whore and I will make it so.”

A sinister, gleeful sneer appeared on Claire’s face as she received divine approval from Serena. Next, she leaned over Wendy and whispered into her ear, “Get ready, Wendy, you little bitch. I’m about to make you my lesbian fuck slut!”

“Please, Claire, I’m sorry…”

“It’s too late for that, Wendy. Now just lay back and let your older sister take it from here.”

Claire slapped Wendy across her delectable rear and, in turn, Wendy let out a sharp yelp. Claire felt a rush of power flow through her veins, her loins pulsing with lust, spurring her to repeat the ass strikes several times. The whimpering sounds Wendy made as she rained blow after blow on her sexy behind was intoxicating.

This went on until Claire noticed that Wendy’s ass was turning dark pink. Feeling a little tired, Claire stopped, lowered herself and nuzzled her face against Wendy’s butt cheeks, reinvigorating herself. She enjoyed the pleasant warmth that was radiating from Wendy’s cute butt, but something else caught her attention.

Claire saw Wendy’s pussy dripping with lust. She saw the outer labia of Wendy’s pussy swollen with passion and sopping wet, yearning for relief. Claire spread Wendy’s ass cheeks and saw Wendy’s cute, puckered asshole swollen and twitching with pleasure. Claire could only smirk at the sight, knowing that she had caused these responses and had Wendy exactly where she wanted her.

“So tell me, Wendy, did you like what I just did to you?” Claire’s voice dripped with pretended congeniality, her underlying malevolence poorly concealed.

Silence was the only response Wendy gave Claire. However Claire was a bright individual and knew her sister well. She had a few tactics to get Wendy to admit defeat.

“Hmmm… You’re a tough nut to crack, aren’t you? I guess I’ll have to stop what I’m doing and just forfeit. Is that what you want…Wendy? Hmmmm?” As she said this, Claire massaged Wendy’s ass. While the audience didn’t hear it, a tiny moan of pleasure escaped Wendy’s lips.

As she stood up, Claire playfully smacked Wendy’s ass one more time, and this time she got what she wanted.

“…….ohhh……please…....”

“What was that, Wendy? I thought I heard you say something…”

“............please…..…”

“You’re going to have to speak up, Wendy. No one likes a mumbler.”

“Please...” Wendy pleaded, tears welling in her eyes and spilling over onto her cheeks. “Please don’t stop….”

“So does that mean that…”

“Yes… I’m your slut… I’m your fucking slut!” This time Wendy didn’t bother to try to mask the shame in her voice.

“Don’t ever interrupt me, Wendy, slut!” Claire landed a few more smacks on Wendy’s ass. “Understand?!”

Wendy could only moan with pleasure as she felt Claire spank her butt.

Claire turned to Serena Powers and declared, “Goddess, I have succeeded in the Rite of Dominance. Wendy has submitted to me and by that admission she is now my personal lesbian slut, who is at the mercy of my sexual whims.”

Serena nodded. “True, Wendy has submitted, but the Rite of Dominance is not yet complete, Claire, beloved. You know the final task that is required.”

For a moment Claire was confused. She had thought she had completed the rite, but then the dark feeling that had been guiding her whispered into her psyche the act she needed to do to finish the task. Claire turned to Mary and walked up to her.

“Mary, I believe you have something that I need. As my soon-to-be wife, will you give it to me?”

Mary gave Claire a longing look and could only agree, smitten as she was by her elder daughter and aroused as she was by the spectacle of her two daughters engaging in a

sexy little spank session. “Of course, my dear. Anything for the beautiful woman who rescued me.” With that being said, Mary knelt before Claire, raised her hands in adoration, and began a chant of erotic adulation that further elevated the lust flowing through Claire’s body.

“I love Claire and I want to be her slut.”

“I want to see Claire fuck Wendy.”

“I want Claire to fuck me.”

“Claire becoming a lesbian brings me happiness.”

At length, a bright, glowing orb appeared in Mary’s upturned palms. With a bright flash, the orb exploded, but without an harm to Mary. A strap-on dildo appeared in its place. It was a white ivory dildo, eight inches in length, an inch and a half in diameter, and bejeweled with sapphires and amethysts, attached to a red leather harness with silver studs adorning the leather straps.

Claire let out a small moan of approval as she felt her mother fasten the harness straps of her strap-on around her waist and between her thighs. It would have been exciting to find any woman doing this to her, but the fact that it was her own mother setting her up for lesbian fucking made it all the more wickedly thrilling. Claire felt Mary’s hands roam over her thighs and her behind and even felt Mary give her butt a gentle squeeze. After Mary finished, Claire looked down to see Mary look up at her. Without any encouragement Claire knew what to say next.

“Suck.”

Without hesitation, Mary wrapped her hand around the ivory cock and glided it up and down its length. Claire could feel a protrusion in the shaft rub against her clit, exciting it. Then Mary opened her ruby-painted lips and swirled her moist tongue around the white obelisk. In a matter of seconds, she had the tip of the strap-on in her mouth.

Claire felt her lust skyrocket as she witnessed and felt, as it seemed, her own mother work the ivory cock into her mouth and then start it into her throat. Giving her mother some assistance, Claire grabbed her by the braids in her hair and began to move her hips as she advanced the shaft down Mary’s throat. The redheaded woman wrapped her crimson lips around the phallus, tongued it amorously, and sucked voraciously.

The sensation of real physical pleasure became quite definite for Claire. It was as if the strap-on was somehow a part of her and she could really feel her mother’s moist lips, tongue, and throat around the ivory dong. Claire threw her head back and let out a loud passionate moan.

However, as much as she wanted this to continue, she had to move on to the priority act at the moment. After enjoying Mary’s oral love long enough to know she would certainly be pursuing this wanton act again, she placed her hand on Mary’s forehead, signaling her mother to stop, and slowly pulled the phallus out of Mary’s mouth, numerous strands of maternal saliva clinging to it and elongating with the withdrawal until they snapped.

“We’ll finish this another time…Mary.”

Claire turned her focus back on Wendy, walking over to her. She again spread apart her younger sister’s ass cheeks, displaying the girl’s needy cunt and ass for everyone to see. She playfully stroked the wet cock in her hands, then slapped Wendy’s ass with the ivory dick, which in turn caused Wendy to whimper, arch her back, and raise her ass into the air, indicating her whorish craving in an unmistakable manner.

“What a slut you’ve become, Wendy,” Claire uttered in a condescending tone. “I should have known better than to believe that you could have protected Mom. All you can think about is getting screwed, isn’t it? What a sorry little whore you are. To think that I ever believed you deserved my love… I was foolish to think of you as my sister, when in fact you’re nothing more than the family whore.”

“Please… Claire… please… I need to be...I need to…”

“To what, slut? You want to keep your virginity?”

“……no……”

“What then? What do you need?”

“Ughh! I need to be fucked!” Wendy tearfully pleaded for her sister to end her sexual suffering and plunge the ivory cock into her eager hole. “Oh, Claire,,,would you please…stop…stop teasing me?… Please?… Please just…just fuck me!”

Claire smacked Wendy’s ass again. “You are not fit to give me any orders, you fucking little cunt! Understand, slut?!”

Wendy just sniffled and nodded her head. Feeling satisfied that Wendy now knew who was in charge within the family, Claire turned to Serena and awaited her approval. With a nod of her head, the Goddess signaled to Claire to begin.

The blonder, older sister started by rubbing the ivory cock up and down Wendy’s needy wet cunt lips, eliciting more moans from her little sister. After a few minutes, Claire, tired of teasing Wendy’s excited love tunnel alone, shifted the position of the ivory cockhead to Wendy’s puckered butthole and slid it along her sister’s anal entrance. This caused her sister to get on her tippy toes and raise young ass further into the air, wiggling it, trying to get the ivory dildo to penetrate her. Wendy didn’t care which holes of hers got shafted; all she wanted was to feel stretched and full, which Claire intuitively understood.

Claire continued to alternate between holes, teasing and tormenting Wendy. The feeling of denying Wendy sexual release was a new sensation for Claire and it felt incredible. At this point, Wendy was in tears, wiggling her ass and begging for release. Claire smiled with an evil glee as she watched her sister squirm with agonizing frustration.

This should teach the little bitch who’s in charge, Claire thought as she finally stopped the white cockhead in position against the gates to Wendy’s vaginal pleasure center. Leaning over and placing herself on top of her sister, Claire whispered, “Get ready, bitch, because I’m about to give you the fucking of your lifetime!” With one thrust, the ivory strap-on sank into Wendy’s gushing snatch. Wendy let out a howl of pleasure as she felt Claire work the dildo into her eager cunt. It broke through her virgin barrier and set fire to every pleasurable nerve within her pussy.

Claire began to rut animalistically against her sister as she moved her hips back and forth, sawing the ivory cock into Wendy’s wet lovebox. Claire smirked when she saw faint smears of blood on her cock, knowing that she was the one to take her sister’s precious virginity. The depraved sight further egged Claire on to pound her sister.

Grabbing onto Wendy’s hips, Claire picked up the pace as she worked the white shaft, slick with a mixture of her mother’s saliva and her sister’s cunt juices and blood. The ivory prick felt alive. The reality for Claire became that she truly had a cock and was using it to fuck her sister senseless. Claire felt protrusions grow and enter her own pussy and ass. She felt them bond with the very nerves of her holes and charge them with sexual energy.

The erotic sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and of groans of erotic ecstasy filled the church. Soon Claire could hear the reverberations of musical female moans coming from the robed women behind her, as well, like a perverted choir accompanying her virtuoso performance, encouraging her to continue her feverous fuck of her sister’s slick quim.

As she worked the strap-on into Wendy’s gushing cunt, Claire was taken off guard when she felt a pair of hands on her supple butt cheeks, first massaging them and then spreading them apart. While she couldn’t turn around to identify who was groping her ass, the sound of the person’s familiar, sweet voice quickly solved the mystery for her.

“Don’t worry, Claire. I’m going to help you revive Jessica. And what better way for you to complete this Rite of Dominance than by commandeering two horny lesbian bitches at the same time, rather than just one, to do your sexual bidding.”

Before Claire could respond, Abby began to plant warm butterfly kisses all over Claire’s glorious butt with her lovely painted lips, leaving beautiful crimson imprints of her lips on Claire’s gorgeous rump. Claire sighed as she felt the Asian woman continue to give lip service to her ass. Then, Claire felt Abby shift her attention from the cheeks of her ass to the crevice in between them. Claire let out a drawn-out moan as she felt Abby work her tongue along the thin harness strap that ran between her legs and covered her sexually-excited puckered hole. Despite the leather material that covered her crotch and anus, it felt as if nothing was there, for, in fact, the strap had become magically immaterial to the Asian’s girl’s tongue and mouth, which stabbed through as if nothing were there. Claire could feel Abby’s tongue poke, prod, and massage her anal ring, each stroke causing her to gasp and moan with pleasure.

“Oh…oh, Goddess!… Don’t stop, Abby! Don’t you dare stop! Work your sweet tongue on my… my ass…you bitch!… Don’t stop!”

At length, Claire settled into a sexual rhythm synchronized with both Abby and Wendy. Claire worked the ivory penis into her sister’s wet, stretched pussy while Abby clung tenaciously to her hips and massaged Claire’s butthole with her velvet-like tongue through the leather material of the harness. The pleasure that was coursing through Claire’s body was beyond euphoric and hit a level that she felt was beyond human comprehension.

Yes!… This was exactly what she wanted…no, needed. The darkness that had emerged earlier inside Claire prodded her to enjoy the pleasures assaulting her body. It whispered to her that she cared only for pleasure, her own pleasure, and nothing else, with whatever beautiful partner she fancied, anytime, any place. It advised her, to hell with monogamous relationships; screw staying faithful to one partner. It confirmed to her that she didn’t care about Wendy and she didn’t care about family. The darkness convinced her that, at this moment, her destiny was to turn her sister into her own personal lesbian fuck slut. To hell with sisterly love. What has that brought me other than an incompetent bitch who couldn’t even protect her own mother? But she’s a damn good fuck!

“Yessssss!” Claire hissed as she agreed with the darkness and as a torrent of sexual release hit both her and Wendy. Claire’s phallus convulsed, causing Claire to scream in frantic ecstasy, and shot out a load of an enchanted pink love serum into her sister’s young twat, binding Wendy to her forever. At the same time, she felt and saw her sister’s cunt spasm and release a deluge of sexual juices, and her body quake and shake under her. Moments later, Claire also felt a powerful tide of lust shoot orgasmic convulsion throughout her own ass and cunt, the blissful tremor of which seemed to last forever.

At last descending from her high, feeling renewed from the fucking she had just dished out, Claire pressed herself on top of Wendy and whispered into Wendy’s ear, “You’re mine now, cunt! Your hot little pussy belongs to me! You got that, you little bitch? You’ll never be my sister again. And, if I want to, I’ll spend the rest of my life fucking your ass off for my sexual satisfaction!”

Wendy could only let out a small guttural moan in response, her mind far gone from the sexual onslaught with which Claire had ravished her.

Claire closed her eyes…and found herself floating. Her mission accomplished to save her mother and to start her on the path to lesbian fulfillment, to fuck the slut who used to be her sister into complete Sapphic submission, and to purge the disgusting heterosexual desire for a male presence from her life, she was again at peace. She heard Goddess address her: “It is now time for your reward, my faithful daughter.”

Opening her eyes, she found herself flying. She passed over sunny, green hills…forests…and flowery meadows…A stately castle approached… A shadow covered it… She entered its outer courts…

The king and the queen, the knights and the ladies, and the guards and the stewards slumbered… Bakers and butlers, horsemen and squires, men and women, boys and girls all slept in their places…some standing, some sitting, some reclined…in a twilight…not quite dark and not quite light…

Claire remembered this setting and this story from her childhood. It had always been one of her favorites. Her memory—an altered one—told her that she had often imagined herself playing a role in this story…and had wished that Prince Charming had not been a prince…but a princess…and that she, Claire, were that princess.

Claire landed inside the castle… Intuitively, she ascended a stone stairway…and paused on a landing…outside a door…a large mirror showing her to herself…in a long, flowing gown of pink and purple…long, silver-colored hair with pastel lavender streaks, sweeping to her hips in a few long braids and voluminous, loose tresses…lips and nails of silvered violet…eyelids of pewter and plum…cheeks rosy with blush…and a silver crown atop all…

The door opened… Princess Claire the Charming entered… She saw a bed near a window, essentially a vertical slit in the stone wall, casting sunlight on the bed…the bed bedecked with white satin sheets and overhung with a silken white canopy…in the bed, a sleeping maiden, covered by a thin, smooth, white satin spread, wearing a crown of gold and rubies...

Princess Claire approached… The lass was fair, to exceed all in the kingdom…lips of rose red, the blush of youth on her cheeks, long hair as molten gold pouring over her white satin pillow…her skin wondrously smooth and bronzed…the diaphanous sheet revealing in detail the lush curves of the naked body draped beneath it, including the tips of the maiden’s nipples, seemingly intent on poking their way through the silky material covering them, and the young woman’s secret place between her legs, into the crevice of which the gossamer covering had sunk, as if the sheet itself sought an illicit feel of the maiden’s most precious charms.

Lust breezed through Princess Claire’s soul, her own nipples tightening in response to the vision before her. And then recognition passed across Claire’s face. Oh! I know her! She is…

“Stop!!” a burly voice boomed from a corner of the room. Stepping forward, a stinking, shirtless man presented himself, menace, dread, and contagion oozing from his reeking masculine presence. “I forbid you! She is mine!”

Princess Claire receded a step from the unexpected hazard. “Sir… Did…did you do this?”

“Aye, and such is the curse I will pronounce not only on Princess Jessica, the Sleeping Beauty, but on any other fair maiden who dares to refuse my suit! Now I will have my way with her! Out of my way, lezzie whore!”

Upon hearing that it was this brutish man who had placed the curse on her beloved and learning what his foul intent for Jessica was, the maddening irritation started to return all over her body, and rapidly Princess Claire felt another tide of rage rise within her.

“You foul creature! You…you filthy man!!”

A pink whip materialized in her hand. Claire thought she recalled there being a sword, the Sword of Truth, in the story, as well as a fire-breathing dragon, but her mind was quickly changed to remember the weapon as a whip, the Whip of Lesbian Love, and the remembered villainous foe as a despicable man. Without further thought, Claire lashed the scoundrel with a loud crack. It slashed him diagonally across his greasy body, leaving a wide gash in its wake. With a look of astonishment, he retreated two steps and held up a hairy arm for protection. With another sharp snap, the man’s legs were slashed, and he fell to his knees, now showing a visage of terror and uttering pleas for mercy, but to no avail, for Claire was blind with stern passion. With another crushing smack, With another crushing smack, the brut shriveled into a pathetic, root-like thing, then, with a final lash, the disgusting brute let out a wretched, languishing cry, his oily, acne-infested skin began to burn and char, and finally he burst into ash, which the wind from a nearby open window swept out into the outside air.

Turning around, dropping the whip, collecting herself, and again approaching the reposing beauty, Princess Claire reflected on the identity of the maiden. Yes… We’ve met before… In fact, I know her well…Princess Jessica…

The memory came to Claire of having spent many happy childhood days together, for their parents were the monarchs of friendly neighboring kingdoms. They grew, and as the bloom of young womanhood had distilled upon both of them, so likewise had love blossomed in their hearts. But then, but a year or two in the past, their royal parents had a falling out, and the two had been forbidden to meet.

In the intervening time, Claire could not help but now note, her friend’s beauty had ripened into intoxication. Her medium golden brown hair had become the color of pure gold, her lips now all the fuller and as red as pomegranates, and her breasts pushed up the sheet covering them like massive mountains, in contrast to the apple-sized fruit they had been when last they had met. Claire felt her pulse race and her female center water, standing so close to her beloved and bewitching friend.

Princess Claire read the scroll written magically on the post of the bed: “To be awakened by true love’s first true kiss.” Guided by instinct and desire, Claire saw her path clearly. Loosening the chain belt around her waist and the few clasps holding her dress together, she shrugged her shoulders to let the gown fall to the floor. Naked, she lifted the satin spread covering her cherished friend, exposing the lush, equally nude body of her sleeping companion, climbed into the bed, and laid herself on top of the other Princess. Something told her that getting into bed with another pretty, naked girl was the most natural and most beautiful course of action she could possibly take. The melding of their smooth curves was sheer heaven, and was no uncertain confirmation that she was doing the right thing, and that her reward was in the process of being awarded to her.

She was happy she had remembered to wear makeup for this momentous event, and that her lips, especially, were properly coated with luscious lipstick, for she had the impression that painted lips were an absolute requirement for her curse-breaking attempt to work its magic. Leaning down, she joined her painted, silvery violet lips to the succulent, red lips of her dear friend. Never had Princess Claire tasted anything as delicious.

Sleeping Beauty stirred…but she did not open her eyes or awaken. Princess Claire repeated the kiss. The sleeper was moved again in her sleep and opened her mouth, whereupon Claire slid her tongue in, thinking a deeper kiss might be needed. Princess Jessica, eyes still closed, moaned, as if with pleasure, closed her mouth around her companions’ wet tongue, and sought it out with her own, escalating their engagement into a lively, if brief, round of French kissing, Sleeping Beauty’s sounds and frantic reciprocation seeming to signal wanting more, but also made as if dreaming and unable to call forth consciousness. She then relapsed back into her original inert state.

“Oh, Goddess! Please help me!” Claire supplicated, a string of saliva still connecting their wet mouths. “Why can’t I awaken my beloved? Show me what I must do, oh Divine One!”

After a brief wait, a large golden ball of light appeared above Princess Claire. Her Goddess stepped forth from within, her ashen blonde locks flowing in silky waves, her alabaster skin smooth and flawless, and her heavenly body, the body of a divine being, cloaked by nothing more than its golden luminescent glow. Her musical voice addressed Princess Claire in a gracious answer to her prayer: “Princess Jessica is your destined bride. Awaken her with the first kiss of true love. Kiss her where a beautiful woman most wants to be kissed and loved. Kiss her mouth…the mouth of her sweet womanhood. Seal the bond of your love. By doing so, become a lesbian forever…and make her one, too.”

Enlightened, Princess Claire slithered down her destined one’s body until her face was poised over the young woman’s watering, clean-shaven, fragrant pussy. After a few moments of hesitation, inspection, admiration, and yearning desire, she pressed her shimmering violet lips to Sleeping Beauty’s lips of sex. One kiss yielded to another, succeeded by a lick, then two and three, then an eager lingual probing between the precious labia into the hot tunnel of love.

As the sexy silver blonde tongued pink cunt flesh and sucked up delectable woman juice, Princess Jessica gasped, her eye shot open, and she sat up. Within a few seconds, having allowed her stupor to fully slough away, and the wonderful, burning ache between her legs to seize her full attention, she gazed down upon the face which was still adorably tonguing her seat of love but had now turned its eyes up into hers.

“Claire?” The pussy-eating blonde lesbian nodded affirmatively. “Ah! My love!!”

Claire’s story-book dream dispersed like wind blowing away a cloud. Claire came to, standing once again at the altar in the Gothic chapel…

Claire stared at Jessica’s unconscious body lying on top of the altar and knew what she had to do next. Disengaging her strap-on from Wendy’s overheated pussy and pushing her former sister—now her sex slave—aside, Claire climbed on top of the altar and positioned herself so she was straddling Jessica’s nude body.

“I was a fool to not have noticed how you were always there for me, Jessica. I realize now how much you mean to me and that… Jessica, I promise, I’ll change… I swear to you, if you wake up right here, right now, that I will give you my heart and that I will make you my lesbian girlfriend…and my wife…”

The facts that Claire was now also promised to her mother, who was standing there looking on, and was, essentially, engaged to her, and that Claire was now in a tight, romantic relationship with Abby, as well, who also was present, were conveniently overlooked, concerns to perhaps be addressed another time, or entirely swept under the rug, as were various other matters in this realm which defied normal rules of reason, consistency, and decency.

However, one of the lessons intended for Claire to extract from all of this—which lesson she was absorbing like a sponge—concerned the rewards of promiscuity, with a side lesson on the advantages of deceit for one’s own convenience. She was learning that a sexy and slutty lesbian girl such as herself could and should treat relationships casually, even family relationships, as well as romantic and sexual ones, entering and exiting them with as much spontaneity as one wished; that she could whimsically break promises to gratify new lusts, and make new promises without feeling obliged to honor them; that she could readily flit from one woman or girl she desired to another; that a wanton young woman such as herself could, without any qualms, have a number of lesbian interests, flirtations, affairs, one-night stands, girlfriends, lovers, and “committed” relationships all at the same time, and that she could add to them at any time, as she wished.

In this moment, however, her amorous focus was on Jessica. “Please, Jessica, come back to me!”

With that, Claire leaned in and planted a sensual kiss on Jessica’s lips. She drove her tongue deep into Jessica’s mouth, swirling it around within Jessica’s oral cavity. Claire felt her arousal increase. Continuing making out with the comatose beauty, she used her hands to explore Jessica’s body.

Suddenly, a bright golden glow consumed both of them. A few seconds later, she felt a hand on the back of her head holding their mouths locked together. Finally, it slide down her neck and settled on her waist.

Claire sat up. She and Jessica were on a large satin-sheeted bed, in a bedroom which looked very much like Jessica’s in their dorm apartment, but more luxuriously appointed, everything there in white, as if bridal white, including the sheets, the lacy canopy overhead, the walls, and the curtains. Claire was sitting on the thighs of Jessica, who was lying down beneath her, both young women being absolutely naked.

Questions about their setting quickly faded as Claire looked down, fixing her eyes on her girlfriend with wonder. She saw that Jessica’s previous brown-lowlighted, honey blonde hair was now the color of pure, bright, shiny gold, with copper-red lowlights where the brown had been, and much longer than before, that her breasts were even larger and shapelier, that her face was even softer and more femininely beautiful, and that her lips beckoned with a lovely rose-red shine.

Jessica was a sleeping beauty. Claire’s sleeping beauty. Or had been sleeping, up until a minute ago. And, even before the golden glow had restored Jessica’s mobility, her dormant mind had absorbed Claire’s passionate plea and pledge.

“You promise, Clairebear?”

Elated to see her best friend alive and well, not to mention looking so very hot, Claire laid herself down onto Jessica, wrapped her arms around the golden-haired beauty and embraced her in a passionate hug. It felt so good and so natural to be in bed with her, their two smooth, nude bodies sliding against each other. Claire found herself thinking that they should have started doing this long ago, and that sleeping with her gorgeous Jessica would surely be a common pleasure in the future—especially now that Claire had, in essence, proposed to her.

“Yes!… Yes, I promise!” The two united their mouths again, and pressed their curves into one another for several sweet minutes. At length they paused to catch their breaths, panting with love, and gazing into each other’s eyes adoringly. However, Claire could feel Jessica’s body in her arms start to go slack, and her head nodded and jerked back, as if she were trying to fight off an urge to fall asleep.

“Good… Now, my sweet,” Jessica whispered with closing eyes, appearing to Claire as if she were about to relapse into her coma, “finish my awakening... Kiss me where I most want to be kissed…” With her last reserve of strength, as Jessica’s eyes closed in returning slumber, the golden blonde took Claire’s beautiful silver-blonde head into her hands and softly tried to push it down her body. Her hands fell away and her effort ceased when sleep fully reclaimed her once again.

Claire knew exactly what to do. Within minutes, the love-making which would be initiated by Claire feasting on her new fiancée’s sopping-wet cunt, would not only revive Jessica, but would also turn her into a pussy-hungry tigress. They would lapse into a ferocious sixty-nine, Claire having her cunt eaten out as well, and they would surrender to their first mutual orgasm. Claire would finish their night of love in Jessica’s bed by wielding the wondrous strap-on still affixed to her hips on her fiancée’s steaming lovebox, leaving both young beauties in the throes of another euphoric climax.

As they both yielded to slumber, wrapped lovingly in each other’s arms, the last thing to pass through Claire’s mind was Goddess’s voice, then her own.

“Claire… You’re not finished until you screw your mother, too.”

Oooo…yes!… Mom…you’re next… The thought of her sexy mother—her other fiancée—and what they were going to do together sent Claire over the edge anew, one last time. Oh, Mom…ohhhhhhh… ahhhhhh…

In the operating theater, Regina observed the young woman shake and convulse, having undergone another induction, her second major session at the Artemis Center in two nights, and her third powerful dose of brainwashing in two days, when counting her session of hypnosis in Regina’s office earlier that very day. Regina knew that, by this point, Claire’s psyche had been radically altered and that she certainly must have reached an entrenched and virtually irreversible state on her path to becoming a lesbian, an agent of Hecate, and another acolyte of the Goddess. The thought made her smile.

After the machines powered down, the staff present—consisting of a set of techs who had replaced those who had set Claire up for her session and whose shifts had ended—attended to Claire and began to disengage her from the brainwashing machine. As soon as they got her out of the outfit she wore, Regina ordered them to leave, telling them that she would take it from there.

Walking over to Claire’s unconscious, naked body, Regina couldn’t help but marvel at the delectable woman who stretched out before her. Oh, how she wanted to fuck this coed till the cows came home! Regina ran a finger between Claire’s moist pussy lips and brought it to her mouth. She savored the sensual flavor of Claire’s female nectar.

Mmmm, Claire… so hot… just begging to be fucked… She licked her finger again.. Next time when I get you alone…in a nice, private place…you and I are…

“Didn’t your mom tell you it was bad manners to play with your food?” queried a voice behind her.

Taken by surprise, Regina quickly turned around and scowled as, to her displeasure, she saw Dr. Monaghan standing in the room.

“And didn’t yours tell you that it was rude to sneak up on people?”

“She taught me a lot of things, Regina, darlin’, but let’s not try and get our mothers involved with this discussion.”

Regina just stood there, fuming and glaring at the psychologist.

“So what brings you down here, Monaghan?”

“Well, seeing as I’m in charge of Ms. Love-Livingston’s care, I just wanted to check in on muh patient. Might I ask why you’re down here?”

“I don’t answer to you and what I do here is none of your concern.”

“True, very true. Anyway, I want to let ya know that it seems that Ms. Love… ya know, that last name is just a mouthful. I think I’ll shorten it and call her Ms. Love. Has a nice ring to it, don’t ya think, Regina, hun?”

Regina rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “Please, Monaghan, can you just tell me what you want?”

“A million dollars and world peace would be nice, but, like I said, I’m just here to check on our alpha priority target.” Pulling out her tablet, Melinda tapped on the touchscreen to pull up Claire’s file. “Well, it seems that Ms. Love’s second level two induction seems to be a success. Her brain didn’t crack and neural activity is as normal as it can be, given how we just messed with her. Plus, she seems to have a little smile on her face, doesn’t she? She must have enjoyed givin’ into some of those primal urges and lettin’ loose of that prim and proper young lady she used to be.”

Regina just nodded in hopes that it would get Dr. Monaghan out of the room quicker.

“But there is one thing that I wanted to discuss with ya, Regina, darlin’. Been thinkin’ it over with Claire’s case. With one of her roommates completely under our control and the other two goin’ through their own conversions, it suddenly came to me that if we could somehow keep a slow bombardment of subliminals on her, and on the others, too, then it could strengthen the effects of her inductions and allow them to take hold of her a lot quicker. Kind of like keepin’ a pot of soup on a warm simmer. However….”

“You don’t need to finish Monaghan. I get what you’re asking me. Right now it would be too time-consuming to modify Claire’s dormitory room for what you want. However, I do know of a place on campus that could meet our needs. I’ll just place a few calls and have ‘Ms. Love’ and her friends relocated. Does that work out for you?”

“Absolutely, Regina, sugah.”

“So, are we done here or is there anything else you care to bother me with.”

“Well, there is another small, teensey, weensey thing that I would like to talk to you about.”

“For the love of Goddess, just blab it out and get it over with, please!”

“Well, Sandra, stopped by my office and the poor thing was all distraught and upset. Now, I don’t know if you know this or even care, but Sandra is like a sister to me and I care for her well-being very deeply. Now, I know that she can get under your skin and at times can be a handful, but, bless her heart, that girl is normally all sunshine and smiles. So I’m going to let ya know this. Ya may think you’re the queen bitch around here, but if ya ever pull that bullshit with her again and break her heart like you did, I’ll fuck ya up so bad that it will make the Tijuana incident look like a fuckin’ Sunday school social. Do I make muhself clear, Regina?”

Regina could only glare at Monaghan with murderous rage and had her trembling hands balled up into fists. No one ever talked to her like that, and the only thing that was keeping the anger from transmuting into throttling Monaghan within an inch of her life was the fact that Monaghan was the only one here that knew every inch of the brainwashing techniques and machinery. Regina’s operations would be totally lost without her.

“Crystal,” Regina stated coldly, steaming with anger.

“That’s good to hear, Regina, darlin’. I’m glad we could reach an understandin’. Anyway, I’ve got a few things to tend to and finish up. So I’ll leave you be. Oh, and be a dear and clean up when you’re done. Ta-ta and take care, sugah.”

That being said, Melinda walked out of the operating room, leaving Regina seething with hate. Regina let out a scream of rage and started to knock over the trays in frustration. The lovely Director vented a stream of curses and the desire to end Dr. Monaghan’s life, all while an unconscious Claire laid on the table oblivious to what had occurred.

The rays of the morning’s light slipped through the gaps in the mostly-closed Venetian blinds of the dorm apartment’s window, a few bright rays of the sun slashing through the faded darkness of the bedroom. One illuminating strip of sunlight had conveniently found a place on Claire’s face, right on her eyes.

Trying to squint her eyes harder didn’t keep the penetrating rays of the sun out, nor did it negate the facts that it was morning, the exterior light was bright—indicating it was later than early morning—and if she didn’t get up she would hazard being late for her classes. However, a seductive voice whispered that maybe she should skip classes, stay in this comfy bed, snuggle into the mattress, and enjoy the smooth, warm body that was sleeping next to hers, lying along her backside.

Liking the siren message, she turned her face out of the sun, closed her eyes, and settled back into the sweet comfort of the bed…and of that nice, fragrant, curvy body…

What the..?

Yes…There…there indeed was a body nestled up to her! Claire’s eyes shot open. Panic flooded over her. She had never slept with anyone in her life, except for occasional times in her childhood when she had shared a bed with her mom or sister on a stormy night or just for fun during sleepovers with her adolescent friends. But the presence clinging to her back side was definitely an adult body!

Her gut instinct was to scream, to jump out of bed, and to run, but she checked that impulse as a ray of reason moderated her initial reaction. Maybe…maybe there was some explanation that…that was sensible… Freaking out was not going to get to the bottom of the mystery of how or why she ended up in bed with someone else. And…and who, exactly was this, with whom would she share a bed and with whom would she get this…this comfortable?

Claire tried to recall memories of the previous night, but she was met with a fuzzy haze of random events and with the beginning of a mild headache. The more Claire tried to focus on how and why she ended up in bed with someone, the more it hurt, so, hoping to escape the throbbing pain in her head, Claire relented, accepted her situation—upon which the pain dissipated completely—and shifted her inquisition to a different question, namely, where was she.

Claire darted her eyes around and caught sight of a few posters of athletic sports teams, a couple of trophies on the dresser across from her, and a couple of large gym bags next to the closet. At first it seemed like it might be the room of a young man, at which the darkest sensation of horror and nausea swept over her. Surely she wouldn’t have gone to bed with a guy! Yuk!!

But then Claire looked more carefully at the trophies and posters, and recognized the items as belonging to her best friend…Jessica. Claire’s first reaction was one of profound relief, that she was not with some disgusting guy. That impression was quickly followed, however, by alarm in knowing that she was in her best friend’s bedroom…in her best friend’s bed…and, that she had, most likely, spent the night in that bed with her best friend!

As that stark realization slammed into her mind, Claire felt an arm drape over her body and wrap around her rib cage under her large mammaries. Claire let out a stifled gasp as she felt Jessica’s arm tighten around her and snuggle her warm, sensuous body more tightly into hers.

Don’t panic Claire… keep calm… It helped that Jessica’s body against hers, and, especially, her arm softly brushing the undersides of her breasts, felt nice…quite nice… …

It’s not like we did anything…wild or crazy…or at least I don’t think we did...or would… But embellished images from their time together two nights previous with their other roommates came into her mind…Claire dancing for Jessica…as if only for her…and stripping… Did she go all the way?... They embraced…didn’t they?... It had felt good… They could have kissed… Did they? … If they did, it would have been alright… They’re good friends, after all… And then, there were other impressions…of more recent events…such as…of kissing…Jessica…deeply…in bed…of kissing more than lips…of…touching…her body…of doing…other things…wild and wonderful and naughty things…

Did something like that happen last night? Did we get carried aw—

What the hell am I thinking? This is Jessica! She would never let me do anything outrageous…… I could have just had some wild dreams… But…but if we did do something… it would have simply been affection between two friends…that’s all……..I guess… I mean… If it was with Jessica…then… it couldn’t be bad… It wouldn’t be bad…at all…no matter what it was that we did…

Come on, Claire! Get yourself together! Jessica would never let me do something that I would end up regretting… She’s always had my back… She’s such a good friend…

Her panic abating rapidly—she was, after all, simply with her best friend, her warm, soft, fragrant, and pretty best friend—Claire did a cursory check of her body and felt a further sense of relief that she had not gone to bed fully naked, as she had done the previous night, for Claire wasn’t looking to repeat that uncharacteristically risqué behavior, at least not consciously. So, it appeared, she had spent the night with her lovely roommate in her bra and panties.

Well…at least I wasn’t completely naked with her…

As she pondered her state of undress, a dark, seductive voice in Claire’s subconscious whispered to her mind, asking, Would that have been a bad thing?

Claire, not wishing to face the issue with candor, was hesitant to answer that question consciously, but deep in her inner psyche the answer was resounding: No. It would have been great. Further, her body’s programmed memory whispered to her that, indeed, they had been naked together…and that it had been wonderful…even though her mind had no memory of it.

A faint, sweet voice sang a soft sentiment through her mind, one which seemed familiar and true, and one perceived just beyond the edge of her conscious thoughts: Girls should sleep with girls… Girl should make love to girls… Love…and sex…between pretty girls…is natural…right…good…and beautiful… You love Jessica… You want to touch and kiss her… You want to be in bed with her…. You want to sleep with Jessica… You want to be naked with her… It’s beautiful and good…

Being in bed with another girl, and with Jessica in particular, in a state of either near or total nudity, started to feel like one of the most fantastic things in the world to Claire. Desire flushed up within her to be naked with Jessica now.

Claire knew she was conflicted, and couldn’t understand why. Of course, she shouldn’t want to be in a bed with another girl in just her bra and panties, much less in the nude; she knew that intellectually, but she didn’t feel that way emotionally, and was finding the discrepancy within her quite odd, uncomfortable, and baffling. She felt like she had too many unanswered questions accompanying this internal debate, and, as she looked around Jessica’s room, she could see nothing which could give her answers.

Once again her headache started to return. This is too complicated. She gently rubbed her temples to try to massage the stress away. Whatever is going on…or went on…it’s not important… I’m sure everything is just fine… It’s all good. As the pain evaporated precipitously, Claire decided to drop the whole thing and focus on trying to get out of the room without disturbing the young woman who was lying next to her.

Doing her best, Claire managed to gently lift Jessica’s arm off of her. As she did so, she found her eyes lingering on her roommate’s hand. Hmmm…such a nice hand…such smooth skin…and long fingers… The impression came upon her that Jessica’s fingernails should be longer…and polished…with a colorful enamel. For a second, Claire entertained the image of two feminine hands joined…one hers and one Jessica’s…a pleasant contrast in skin colors…the nails on both hands long, manicured, glossy, and brightly colored… The image and the thought passed as fast as it came, but left a pleasant, bemused sensation.

After the arm was out of the way, Claire rolled over in the bed to face her unconscious roommate, who, she saw, was also in just a bra and panties. Staring, Claire couldn’t help but take in the beauty of her sleeping friend, the urgency to analyze the situation and to extract herself from it now largely dissipated. Claire observed Jessica’s sleeping form, and dwelled on the way her large, firm breasts rose up and then descended as she drew breath and exhaled. She watched her friend’s face, so pretty in repose, her long, dark eyelashes resting on her cheeks, her caramel skin so smooth and soft-looking, as if waiting for a lover’s caress, her shiny, light-brown hair spread out over and around her face and pillow, and her lips forming the slightest of smiles, as if dreaming of someone beloved—and the impression passed through Claire that she was the desirable one about whom Jessica dreamt, although she tried to dismiss that thought as unlikely, but the sentiment persisted, nonetheless. In any case, it seemed Jessica had become more beautiful overnight, and Claire did not remember her best friend ever having looked this lovely.

She’s just like…like the fairy-tale princess…Sleeping Beauty…waiting for a kiss…from someone she loves…

Focusing on her friend’s lips, she noted how full and shiny and rosy and kissable they appeared. Looking more closely, it appeared that they were coated with gloss. Since Jessica was not known to use cosmetics of any kind normally, Claire discounted that possibility, but instead wondered what Jessica’s plump lips would look like with a layer or two of bold lipstick. In her mind, she saw them painted red…and then saw herself, unable to resist, leaning over to taste them…one little kiss… the princess kissing her sleeping beauty…quite innocently…of course…

Despite the pleasurable sensations Claire felt in observing Jessica’s prone form, she recognized that her imagination was getting a little heated and out of line, and she knew she had to get out before her odd ideas got the better of her and she came close to acting on them. Taking a deep breath, Claire began to try to gently shift and wiggle herself out of the bed without waking her roommate. However, her efforts were in vain, as Jessica began to awaken.

“Hey... Clairebear,” mumbled Jessica, still in a sleepy daze. As she shook off the remnants of sleep, Jessica, like Claire, knew something was off. Both she and Claire were in her bed, in a semi-naked state, and Jessica had a suspicion that Claire, like she, was confused as to how both of them ended up together.

“Um… did we… I mean... Why are you in my room?”

“I don’t know. Last night is kind of a haze. Can’t really recall how I ended up here.” The effort to once again remember and evaluate her presence there in Jessica’s bed stirred a new bout of head pain. …and this headache isn’t helping much… As before, Claire decided not to question the situation too much, and the headache subsided. Claire gathered herself into a sitting position on Jessica’s bed and turned her back to her pretty friend, pretending to look around the room, but really wanting to avoid the temptation to stare at her half-naked companion any more.

“I guess since we’re up, maybe we’ll find some clues outside in the living room.” Claire could not see Jessica run her eyes hungrily over her back, bare except for a part of her long, black tresses, her bra strap, and the waistband of her panties. Jessica rose up in the bed and scooted up to her. “Unless you prefer to stay in bed with me.” As she said this, her soft voice striking Claire as uncharacteristic but persuasively sultry, Jessica placed a hand on Claire’s shoulder and leaned in close, pressing her body against Claire’s, hoping that her roommate would take her up on the offer she had just presented.

Neither had any idea about their brainwashing sessions at the Artemis Center, which had amped up their sexual attraction to each other, nor about the fact that all four roommates had been showered, shampooed, perfumed, coiffed, and prepared in other ways—all to make them all the more enticing to each other in the morning—before being dressed in sexy new underwear, brought home, and placed strategically in two beds in the apartment.

Jessica now had a fetching new hairstyle, a precise, shoulder-length page-boy cut with thick bangs and her color had been subtly lightened a shade or two from it’s previous medium golden brown to a light golden brown. The top section of her hair behind the bangs was pulled straight back and tied with pale blue ribbons, and the rest of her mane framed her face in subtle, wavy, volumizing curls. She indeed had a coat of rosy gloss on her lips, as it had appeared to Claire, and a bikini bra and panties set of ice-blue satin.

Monica’s hair had been given a treatment to make it even glossier and fuller than normal, it was now a profound black—even darker than before, and with a subtle bluish tinge, apparent only in sunlight, to yield an extremely dark, intoxicating midnight blue-black—it had been parted off-center and loosely curled, and it hung freely to her waist. Her face had been painted with full makeup, including dark red lipstick, 2½-inch silver hoop earrings dangled from her ears, and she wore a semi-sheer vermillion-red underwear set, the bra of which had a push-up construction which emphasized her cleavage dramatically and made her breasts bulge as if about to burst free at any time. Her roommates had seen her dolled up before, but now she looked every bit the part of a vividly glamorous centerfold, or, even the Playmate of the Year.

Meredith wore dangling silver hoop earrings exactly like Monica’s, heavy mascara and eyeliner, bronze and silver eyeshadows, metallic reddish-bronze lipstick, a half-up hairstyle with some new chunky golden-blonde highlights, and, most provocatively of all, extremely skimpy underwear of thin, silver satin, the panties of which were an abbreviated, low-cut string bikini style scarcely more than a thong and the top of which was, in actuality, a mere bralette with cups consisting of small triangles of shiny silver material which loosely covered her baseball-sized breasts.

Claire’s “treatment” had been a bit less substantive than that of her roommates, but the outcome was quite fetching, nevertheless. She had her black hair in a half ponytail style, her lips had a coat of pale, frosty-pink lipstick, and her bra and panties were black and lacy, with some pink frills and accents.

All of them looked extremely cute and alluring and were delightfully perfumed, yet had been given subconscious commands not to question anything about their looks and attire this morning, only to accept and to enjoy and to be turned on by it all, and for each girl to think that whatever adornment to face, hair, or body which she might later discover was her own doing and that her new underwear was either something she had just purchased or something she had owned all along.

To Claire, the sensation of Jessica cuddling up to her was divine. Part of Claire seriously entertained the idea of turning around, taking Jessica in her arms, settling back into bed with her roommate, and then seeing where that would take them. That part of her also wished, as an alternative scenario, that Jessica would just slide her arm around her waist and pull her back down, deciding the issue for her.

But she was internally divided, another part of her realizing that course would probably be inappropriate, and also desiring answers to how she got into this predicament. However, the mental debate was short-lived, as both she and Jessica heard a loud shriek. Immediately both young women looked at each other, gasped “Meredith and Monica!”, and bolted out the room towards the source of the distraught scream.

Claire and Jessica determined that the shriek had come from Meredith’s room. Because of her athletic prowess, Jessica was the first one to arrive, with Claire following closely behind her, both able to enter the room because Meredith apparently had failed to lock her door. They were greeted by the sight of Meredith and Monica in bed together, both in the same state of undress as Claire and Jessica, fighting over a Harley-Quinn- themed blanket, each in the obvious attempt to cover herself with it.

“Let go of my blanket!”

“Why?! So you can see me naked, you little pervert?!”

“As if…”

“Go to hell, freak!”

Claire, resorting by habit to the dynamics prevalent in their apartment in the past, looked at Jessica and with her eyes pleaded for her to try to stop this before it escalated into something that would end up being ugly for everyone present.

Normally, Jessica would have gladly and readily complied with a request from Claire to quash a clash such as this one, the kind that flared up every now and then in their apartment. However, this time she found herself hesitant to be confrontational and to use her physical stature to intimidate her quarreling roommates into settling down. Instead, Jessica felt unusually timid and had the impression that barging into the middle of an argument and threatening violence to solve it would be out of character for her in some way now. As she turned inward, she discovered that she had a new sensation of being feminine and girly, and that she kind of liked it, and she didn’t want to do anything to contradict or disturb that nice, new self-perception.

However, on the other hand, this was her best friend Claire who was appealing to her. Jessica couldn’t refuse Claire’s request, and, besides, it wasn’t like she had never intervened between Monica and Meredith before. So, even though she didn’t feel like it, Jessica took a deep breath, steeled her resolve, and lept between the two arguing semi-naked women, hoping that she could bluff them into calming down.

“Alright!” Jessica yelled. “I want both of you fucking idiots to stop this stupid bullshit NOW!”

It was enough to get both Meredith and Monica to stop and turn their attention toward the tall, athletic, semi-naked, bronzed-skin woman who had intervened and who was trying, with only partial success, to appear mean and angry. While Jessica’s order did put a stop to the squabble, it did little to lower the tension felt in the room.

Then something most unusual for this quartet of roommates happened, as the demeanor and roles of Jessica and Claire shifted.

“Oh,” said Jessica in a much quieter voice. “Um…I...I…I’m so sorry… if I upset any of you...I didn’t mean to use that kind of language…and to speak so loudly…I... I hope you can forgive me for my rude outburst.” Jessica blushed with embarrassment, turned her head to avoid the eyes locked on her, and shied back a few steps.

Claire, mildly stunned, as were the other two roommates, in witnessing a gentle and deferential side of Jessica which they had never or rarely seen before, recovered and, taking charge, spoke up.

“Monica, you need to leave.”

“What? Why should I…”

“Listen.” There was a trace of uncharacteristic irritation in her voice. “If you haven’t noticed, you’re in Meredith’s room. Just leave, go to your room, get dressed, and later we’ll try to figure out together what the hell happened. But right now, I need you to leave this room.” Claire’s stern tone, her unusual use of a course interjection—which all three listeners noticed with some surprise—and the sense that the normally mild-mannered coed was about to explode at her, persuaded the Latina to comply.

Monica huffed as she headed to the door. However, before leaving Meredith’s room, she turned her face toward the distraught redhead, who was now standing with the blanket, which she had succeeded in tugging away from Monica, pulled up tightly around her, and exclaimed, “Take a good look, nerd girl, because this is as close as you’ll ever get to my body…”

However, before leaving, a quick impression came to Monica that she should let the “nerd girl”, as well as her other roommates, have a very “good look”. She didn’t know why she felt so. A few seconds before, all she had wanted to do was to walk out and try to forget this whole sordid affair; but now a sudden desire to tease and provoke her pretty roommates sexually—especially Meredith, her girl…no, her “nerd girl”, she corrected herself with some effort—caused the temperamental Latina to stop short of the doorway, face her companions, and stand there in her semi-sheer, vermillion-red underwear. All eyes were immediately fixed on the dark discs visible through the shiny, thin material of her bra cups and on the corresponding nubs poking obviously into that gauzy material, as well as on the deep valley between her two wobbling orbs. Then she started posing for them, twirling a little back and forth and running her hands sensually along her body, unconcerned about her exposure, and feeling a rush, in fact, in showing herself off to this group of young women, her state of display becoming not only more natural-feeling but also more of a thrill, as it seemed, with each succeeding second. Feeling driven, for some reason unknown to her, to play it up a little more, she lifted her mane of glossy black hair in her hands—which also lifted her succulent melons, making them bulge even more eye-poppingly within and, seemingly, almost out of her sparse push-up bra—as she slowly spun all the way around, at the half-way point releasing her hair to spill like a river of molten obsidian back down over her shoulders, back, and front. Again facing her roommates, she felt the temptation to unhook her skimpy bra and fling it away as her finale, but, resisting that urge, she instead took her bra-encased torpedoes into her hands, lifting and squeezing them licentiously.

Finally satisfied with her show, she venomously spat at Meredith, “You...you fucking dyke!” and stormed out.

All three girls had unconsciously followed every movement of the Latina’s curvy, scantily-clad body and performance with spellbound interest, as she had talked, posed, and then left—silence, dilated pupils, accelerated heart rates, and stirring pussies lingering in the room for the next several seconds. Wow, all three thought in unison.

When she recovered from the spell Monica’s display had cast, with Monica’s last word seeming to still be echoing through the room, Meredith burst into sobs and collapsed onto her bedroom floor, the blanket falling away. Claire rushed to her friend, knelt down next to her, wrapped her in her arms, and began to comfort the shaken, lithe beauty.

“It’s okay, sweetie… Don’t let that hot tamale get to you……. Hey, Jessica, think you can give Meredith and me some time alone, please?”

“Yeah, no problem. I’ll go check on her royal highness and see if I can get her to calm down some and help figure out what happened.”

“Thanks Jessica.” When the two made eye contact, it seemed to both of them that a mutual and thrilling comprehension passed between them—as if they were somehow bonded together, or were going to be, in some exciting new way. Claire also took note again of how very pretty and feminine her roommate looked, not quite being able to put her finger on what was different about her. Wow…Jessica’s soooo cute… Something’s different about her…something good…really, really good… What a babe… Claire felt strongly like blowing her pretty friend a kiss, and mentally pictured herself doing so, but stopped herself from actually acting on the impulse.

As Jessica turned around and left, Claire took a lingering glimpse at the wondrous sight of Jessica’s beautiful rump rolling within the satin of her ice-blue bikini panties, and unconsciously licked her lips. The desire passed through her to run her hands over that lovely ass, and to get back into bed with Jessica sometime, sooner rather than later. She started to picture both things happening, but she was snapped out of her lustful haze by Meredith’s sobs.

“Shhh… shhh… It’s okay, Meredith.” She bent down to affectionately kiss the top of the head of silky red hair before her. “Everything is fine.”

As Claire pulled Meredith’s body closer to her own, she found herself savoring its warmth, its delightful fragrance, the feel of its exposed, smooth skin and developing curves on her own, and the brevity and silkiness of her bralette and panties. She briefly wondered how long Meredith had had and had worn sexy underwear like this, and was mysteriously glad Meredith had it and had worn it today.

As if drawn by a magnet, she looked down at her friend’s chest. From her vantage point, she could see down into the young woman’s brief, silvery bra cups. She watched the curvy breast flesh quiver in it’s delicate prison, seeming to inflate and deflate with her breathing. Feeling a bit naughty but also aroused by her voyeurism, she scanned more deeply into the cups and spied the rounded edges of two gloriously pink areolae. The decadent sight made her pulse surge. Wanting a better view, Claire shifted slightly until Meredith’s lovely nipples could be seen more or less in full. Her jaw dropped a little and her mouth started to water involuntarily. While a much younger Claire had seen other girls’ exposed chests in pool changing rooms, and her sister’s at home as a young girl, this was the first time she could remember having seen the nipples of a grown woman, on real, adult breasts, other than her own. This seemed like a very special moment, a thrilling moment, and she again felt that same lustful haze rise up within her body which she had felt a few minutes ago looking at Jessica and Monica.

While Claire was occupied looking into her friend’s daring bralette, she failed to notice Meredith quickly turn her head to look up into her face for a moment—catching the raven-haired beauty holding her ogle her breasts.

Oh! Wow! She’s…she’s looking at my…my tits!

This was a first for the redhead…to find another woman checking her body out, and rather obviously! And not just any woman, but her beloved Claire, of all people.

When Claire had taken her in her arms, Meredith had become aware of the particularly scanty nature of her underwear and, though her first blush was to wonder about it, and she had had a momentary impulse to want to cover up, those reactions were immediately succeeded by wholehearted acceptance. By the minute, in fact, she was increasingly glad to have this slinky, silvery apparel on…and nothing more In fact, she had covertly started hoping, without understand why, to attract Claire’s gaze thus attired—and consequently, as a more buried desire, her touch, as well—and had looked to see whether it was happening…and it was! It was as if a long-cherished goal in her life was being realized…and deservedly so…for, Meredith suddenly sensed, she was ravishing! And it was time others—other women—discovered that, too.

Meredith could not remember having bought this particular underwear, but that did not concern her in the least. It seemed like attire she would buy, or should have bought, and should wear, and wanted to wear, and possibly had worn before, and felt comfortable in, and she knew her body must be eye-catching in it…for her body was hot, she was somehow quite certain, in a way she had never felt before…especially her marvelous little titties…

My breasts!… She likes my breasts!........... No wonder…They are…simply…beautiful… … Go on, Claire… Keep looking… my foxy friend…all you want…

From this point on over the course of the morning, Meredith would be almost constantly aware of her breasts, feeling them hanging and jiggling and bulging as they were like tempting fruit on her chest, and would feel a pleasure and naturalness and pride in exhibiting them which she could not have conceived of feeling but a day or two in the past. No, they were not that big, she knew…not yet…but she also seemed to know that her destiny was to have large breasts…wondrously large breasts, in fact. In the meantime she was proud of the little beauties that she did have, and sensed that others…at least other girls…could well be interested in them…which interest was demonstrated by Claire’s ogling of her…and she felt like flaunting them freely, as she wished. She also would, during this interlude with her roommate, periodically check to see whether her lovely raven-haired friend was still eyeing her up, and was gratified to find that, almost every time, she was.

Unexpectedly, a nearly identical carnal possibility occurred to both young women simultaneously. Meredith thought, What if…what if I wiggled a shoulder…and a bra strap were to slide down…letting the bra drop lower…and…maybe…off…? Would she touch…them…? At the same time, Claire thought, If I just shift my hand a little behind Meredith’s back…I could touch the back strap of her bra… It wouldn’t be hard to unclasp it…and get a real good look at…at them…. She pictured herself doing that very thing… the narrow shoulder straps then sliding down those smooth, pale, slim shoulders…the shiny, small bra cups sloughing off…falling under the pull of gravity…letting the wonderful, ripe little melons finally be exposed to the air…and to her eyes...as they should be…to then be taken into her hands…and…

Wait! Claire was shocked by the dark thought that had suddenly appeared, and by the desire she had to see the redhead’s breasts unfettered, and to hold them, and shook her head to try to shake off the disturbing thought.

“Something wrong, Claire?”

“Sorry, Meredith, it’s just…well, I’m just as confused and upset as you are about this whole situation and...”

“She hates me,” Meredith sighed with melancholy.

“What?”

Finding the kneeling position uncomfortable, Claire sat down on the floor behind and a bit to the side of the redhead, extending her legs around the girl’s sitting body while maintaining her embrace, Meredith’s head coming to rest against Claire’s chest. Not only was this position more comfortable for both girls, it was also more intimate, allowed Claire an even better view down the front of her companion’s body, and made it easier for her to slide her hands and arms around the redhead’s mid-section and to feel up her slim waist and rib cage on the pretext of consolation.

Allowing her eyes to drift down lower on Meredith’s body, Claire saw the shiny panties, and caught her breath when she realized how very low-cut was the little pouch covering her friend’s slit. It also looked loose, as if inviting and expecting some soft, feminine hand, such as her own, to slip in.

“You heard what Monica said. She thinks I’m a...a lesbian…” Meredith spat the word as if it meant leprosy, but, the moment it escaped her lips, it not only didn’t sound so bad, but there was actually something favorable, pleasant and, even, exciting, about the word and it’s connotations, although she didn’t take the time to analyze that impression. “ …and that I somehow tricked her into my bed. I don’t even know how this happened!” Meredith let out another sob after expressing herself.

Claire hugged Meredith tighter and, without thinking, she began to lightly caress Meredith’s exposed skin.. The initial intention of the act on Claire’s part was to comfort the distraught redhead, to assure her of her support in a sisterly manner. However, as Claire maintained prolonged contact with Meredith’s scantily-clothed, sexy body, and her eyes strayed again to Meredith’s bralette, breasts, panties, and pubis, arousal began to flow more dynamically through Claire’s body. She could feel her nipples stiffen and scintillating heat start to warm her loins.

Parallel feelings were passing through Meredith at the same time. Her hands had come to rest on Claire’s smooth, naked legs—which had wrapped themselves around Meredith’s bare thighs and lap—and, as she became sensitive to the way the silky flesh felt exquisite to her touch, she started to slowly and lightly run her fingertips along them. She could also feel the luxurious sensation of their naked legs gliding together and of various other parts of their nearly-nude, warm bodies touch and slide and press together. But, of most impact on the petite, young redhead was the fact that her face rested on Claire’s large, pillow-like, lacy-black-bra-encased mammaries, of which situation she suddenly became dazzlingly aware, as her conditioning over that night to obsessively love big breasts surfaced.

Unlike her reaction to breasts this large would have been but a few days before, one of avoidance and inferiority, Meredith found herself in heaven, being not only close to Claire’s curvy bosom but in facial contact, as well—much as had been the case during their cuddling session the day before, with the noteworthy difference that today Claire’s chest and voluptuous cleavage were bare, so that the redhead’s cheek lay directly on Claire’s sloping flesh. Lifting her head slightly, she ran her eyes over the creamy mounds framed by the sexy black bra, tracing the enticing curves and deep valley, as if seeing such charms for the first time, then, with a slight smile and a sigh, laying her head back down and snuggling her cheek into them.

As their ensuing conversation progressed over the next few minutes, with a minor turn of the head Meredith found her lips sliding against Claire’s smooth, bulging breast skin. A strong urge came over her to form her lips into a kiss, to extend her tongue for a taste, or, even, to stealthily pull down a bra cup to reveal and give her lips access to the rosebud seen hiding like a mysterious shadow through the dark, lacy material. Resisting those impulses for the time being, she nevertheless closed her eyes once or twice and pictured herself giving into those desires.

Both girls were finding their embrace, with skimpy, silky bras and panties as the only coverings on their young, perfumed, sex-primed bodies, to be a most bonding interlude. Moreover, as this was their second day in a row of cuddling with each other intimately—the first time, while fully clothed, and this time, while almost naked—the impression passed faintly over the two that this was the kind of thing they would do again and again from now on, on any pretext or even without one, that they both wanted this, that there existed between them a natural and inevitable progression into deeper intimacy, that the prospect of even being completely naked together next time lay within the range of mutually agreeable possibilities, as might also the transformation of the tangential little kisses they had previously stolen on a cheek or the top of a head into more direct tokens of affection aimed at lips.

Associated sentiments stirred within Claire, ones planted in her subconscious mind from her stays at the Artemis Center and while alone with Regina and Traci, whispering attitudes which had been foreign to her but two days prior, but were now well incorporated into her deepest feelings: Girls should date girls. Girls should love girls. Girls should have sex with girls. Girls should be lesbians. Lesbians are more beautiful. Lesbians are happier. I want to be a lesbian. I want sex with girls. I want sex with this girl. I want sex with my roommates. My roommates should be lesbians. I will help them and other girls become lesbians. They slowly spread their dark tendrils and latched themselves onto parts of her conscious mind. From there they insinuated a suggestion into Claire’s mind, in response to Meredith’s lament about Monica’s accusation that Meredith was a lesbian. Claire found herself speaking the subversive suggestion aloud.

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“What?”

“That she thinks you are a lesbian. And would it be that bad if you really were a lesbian? And if Monica were one, too …or if you helped her become one…”

Meredith was stunned by Claire’s comment. Here she expected comforting words, assurances that whatever had happened over that night was some kind of fluke, never to happen again, that she, Meredith, was normal, and that Monica was way off-base in her accusations about Meredith’s sexual preferences. The redhead wanted Claire to be the soothing balm to the vicious sting inflicted by the fiery Latina coed. Instead, Claire seemed intent on keeping the emotional wound open. With a cluster of rhetorical questions, it seemed that Claire was not only condoning lesbianism and suggesting that Meredith being or becoming a lesbian was a rational possibility, but that she was actually encouraging Meredith to choose a Sapphic direction, and maybe even to walk that path together with her beautiful nemesis, Monica, things that she thought she would never in a million years hear coming from her straight-laced, conservative friend.

She looked up at Claire’s face for some indication that Claire had either been jesting or had simply misspoken. However, she saw a strictly serious and sincere expression on her sisterly friend.

She meant that………. I wonder…I wonder why she said it…

“Meredith, you and Monica have been arguing ever since you met each other. How long have you tried to make amends and have nothing to show for it? Don’t you think it’s about time you stopped this petty nonsense, and tried a different way?”

While Claire’s stinging yet truthful words made Meredith feel more guilt and shame, it appeared Claire had some new plan in mind to suggest to her which she hadn’t yet made known, beyond the glimpses she had just offered, and that was starting to pique Meredith’s curiosity. Yes, Claire had given her counsel yesterday about a “different way”, and it had made sense, but it sounded like her raven-haired roommate was about to add to her previous advice or to make some kind of further point.

“Remember our little conversation yesterday? I told you to be patient and nice with her, to do yourself to attract her, even to flirt with her. I definitely stand by that, even more than yesterday, but now that I think about it, I think you need to go even further than what I said then. You two could be so much more to each other than even just friends. And there’s a way to make it happen…if you’re woman enough… Think of it, Meredith. You two, together…as a couple. Don’t you think Monica is a babe? I mean…aren’t you curious…what it would be like? You know, if you and Monica were…’together’…?”

Subconsciously, Claire was most fascinated by the possibility of Monica becoming a lesbian, as well as Meredith, and of the two becoming united in a love beyond mere friendship—and, even more so, by the implications for herself should a new, open, Sapphic sexuality arise in the two young women, which would open the door for her own lusts for the pair to be slaked—and her desire to see it happen, and to help it along, was driving her counsel to Meredith in this moment.

“Claire, I don’t think I want to know Monica like that.” The response was half-hearted on Meredith’s part. After Monica’s erotic display of a few minutes previous, and being moved by the picture Claire was painting for her of a “special” kind of relationship with the sexy Latina, and floating in the sensuality of her current session of exciting cuddling with Claire, all on top of her recent bout of Sapphic brainwashing, Meredith’s true emotions about her sexuality and about the lovely Latina were spinning.

Meredith turned her head to look at her black-haired friend. “Claire, you know it’s…”

Before she could finish, Claire gently placed her index finger on Meredith’s lips and silently formed her own lips into a sultry ‘sshhhh’ configuration. Meredith lost her train of thought as small spikes of arousal pulsed through her body, as she watched Claire’s lips purse and felt Claire’s finger touching her own lips. Acting on subconscious impulses, Meredith parted her lips slightly, instinctively inviting Claire to stick her finger inside her mouth. While Claire, also at a subconscious level, recognized the invitation and felt the urge to plunge her finger in, she did not, not exactly. Instead, she ran her fingertip very slowly and softly along the redhead’s painted lips.

“You have such nice lips. I love your lipstick. I wondered what you’d look like with painted lips…and you look great.” Meredith had not yet been aware that she was wearing lipstick and did not remember having applied it, but was glad she had it on…if Claire liked it… “You should do this all the time. And I’d like you to paint your nails, too.”

Yeah… I should have done that… Next time…I will…

“And I love what you’ve done to your hair….” Again, the redhead did not know what Claire was talking about, and would not until later, when she looked in a mirror, and would then believe she was the originator of her current look. “Meredith, honey…you are just sooo cute!”… She looks like candy… “If a girl like Monica were a lesbian, she’d just eat you up!” I would, too.

With that, Claire slid just the tip of her finger slightly inside her companion’s lips. Meredith closed her mouth around it, and Claire continued to run it along Meredith’s lips, but now along their wet inner surfaces, each girl making the excuse to herself that their tactile indulgence was merely a sisterly underscoring of Claire’s compliments about Meredith’s lips, use of lipstick, and attractiveness.

As Claire’s comments about lesbianism and Monica weighed for a few more seconds on Meredith’s mind—and with Claire’s youthful, sexy, bra-and-panties-clad body rubbing against her, especially her large, voluptuous breasts, and with Claire’s fingertip playing ever-so-softly with her mouth—they set off a subconscious chain reaction within Meredith, which finally started to emerge within her conscious mind, which yielded more control to her subconscious desires with every passing moment.

Hmmmm… Claire has a point… Monica…is…desirable…….. I suppose if I were to start getting…interested…in girls…and go queer…that…it wouldn’t be so bad…especially if I could do it…with her……… And…it seems that more and more girls are going that way these days… It’s not like I’d be the only one……… I wonder what it would be like… Images flooded into her mind of girls and women, all pretty and with very large breasts, at first clothed, but then topless. Her breathing started to become shallow as the images brought a sharper arousal with them. Maybe Claire is right…… I think I…I might be bi-curious……..

But…but I’ve never been into girls before……. I’m not really gay…I don’t think……. And Monica’s so…so mean……..yet……so beautiful…

“Okay, so let’s say that you aren’t gay, Meredith, honey, and never have been, and don’t want to be. I understand that. That can change, but, anyway, that doesn’t really matter for what I have in mind. Do you remember what I told you yesterday, about how Monica feels about you?” Claire slipped her finger out of Meredith’s mouth so the redhead could answer, but kept her hand on Meredith’s face for a minute, her palm softly cradling her cheek, before it migrated back down to her torso.

Meredith snapped out of her haze as Claire asked her again if she recalled the discussion they held yesterday. Feeling the arousal flowing through her body, Meredith, scared that she might say something embarrassing or something else which might break the erotic spell between them, only nodded her head as a response to her raven-haired friend’s inquiry.

“I told you that Monica wants you to be her friend. She’s just as afraid of losing out on the friendship opportunity as you are. So, knowing this, what do you think you can do to turn this situation around? And to turn it into a situation which you control?”

Trying to think with the facts she had, Meredith could not divine the conclusion at which Claire apparently had arrived. All she could do was just shrug her shoulders to let her buxom friend know that she was lost.

Meredith looked into Claire’s face and, for the briefest of moments, thought she saw it shift into an angry, disapproving gaze. Meredith found that transitory countenance unsettling, foreign as it was on a woman who always wore a cheerful smile on her face, but, just like that, it was gone and replaced with her friendly demeanor.

“Let me ask you this. Do you remember how you and Monica got into bed together?”

Meredith just shook her no.

“And do you think Monica knows how she got into bed with you?”

Again Meredith just shook her head no. Claire found the way Meredith’s red hair swished about her face, and the innocent, lost look on that pretty, made-up face, to be adorable.

“Then who’s to say that maybe last night something didn’t happen? Maybe Monica got a little ‘friendlier’ than she would have liked. You put up a little resistance, but in the name of friendship, wanting to be her dear friend, of course, you relented to Monica’s advances and, next thing you know, both of you go to bed together. Sounds like a very plausible way of how things unfolded.”

Even though Meredith did not yet quite see how fabricating a story about the events of last night would win her Monica’s affection, the deceptive nature of Claire’s proposal dawned on Meredith.

“It sounds like you want me to…to lie to her, Claire.” The notion that the meticulously honest Claire would advocate such a thing was disorienting. “I don’t think….”

Again Claire cut off the troubled redhead. “Meredith, you have to start being proactive. Carpe diem, as they say. You have a great opportunity to befriend Monica and you can’t let it slip through your hands. You have to do what you have to do.”

“It’s just… I don’t want a friendship—or a relationship—built on dishonesty.”

“Who’s to say you’re being dishonest? After all, if neither of you can remember what happened, then who says your version is less honest than Monica’s recollection of what happened?”

“I… I guess that makes sense.”

“Besides, you’ll have one advantage over Monica when you try this.”

“Really? What is it?”

“You’ll have me. If Monica asks, I’m more than willing to say that your version is correct. That it was Monica who came on to you. That it was Monica who was acting like a lesbian…like, you know, revealing her true self with the help of a few drinks…”

“But, Claire… I thought the truth was so important to you… This is so unlike—“

“Posh. We’re all adults now. It’s time to grow up and get with the real world. It’s okay to tell a little lie now and then, if you have to. And in this case, we have to…for you to get what you want…to get Monica…and to get control of your relationship with her…”

For a moment, Meredith mentally digested what Claire was offering her. She thought she was getting part of it, if not everything. She could take advantage of their hazy recollection of last night’s events and present a perspective to Monica in which Monica was more than amicable in establishing a friendship last night…and even something clearly more than a friendship. Somehow over the course of last night’s events, their new-found camaraderie resulted in the two of them going to bed with each other…and, implied with that, that they had gotten sexual with each other. Claire would then back Meredith up should Monica inquire about the events. The conclusion to be drawn from the situation would be that Monica was really a lesbian, one just waiting to be revealed to others and, maybe, to herself, as well, one whose secret lust for Meredith had at last been liberated by a round of inebriation.

“Claire…I guess I don’t quite understand why telling all of this to Monica is going to make her change her mind about me…about being nicer to me…and wanting to be a real friend, all the time…”

With some impatience in her voice, Claire interrupted. “Damn, Meredith, you’re so dense sometimes! This is about more than just friendship! That is about personal fulfillment and happiness, for both of you! And, just as much, this about control! And justice! And revenge! This is about you reversing the tables on Monica, you being the one in charge, you being the one she worships and adores, and Monica groveling at your feet. And the way you’re going to do that is by making her into exactly what she has accused you of being—a dyke! And not just any old dyke, but one who has the biggest, maddest love-sick crush on you!

“Here’s the plan, how we’re going to do it: First, we’re going to make her question her sexuality, and convince her that she’s really a lesbian, and make her want to be one. She’s probably always thought she was straight, but with both of us telling her that she jumped in bed with a girl the moment her inhibitions were loosened a little with a few drinks, she won’t be able not to question herself. We’ll ply her with a few insinuations here and there, add to her doubts, make her feel comfortable with the idea of being a lesbian, flirt with her, and…

“You don’t mind if I try a few things with her, do you? You know, to lure her along?”

Over the previous two days, Claire had already felt the desire to date Monica, and, while her underlying motives were definitely Sapphic, on the surface she had thought of their going out as a form of normal sociality between girls, without any particular romantic intention, that it was simply from a wish to enhance their friendship, and she had not yet decided when or where or how, she would start, nor whether it was really going to happen. Now the exciting prospect seemed to be jumping at her, not as a vague and optional act of friendship which she might get around to, but rather as an imminent inevitability, and one now with an openly erotic character about it, which she could pursue under the color of a duty, contrived as that sense of duty might be. Getting into a romantic relationship with Monica and seducing her could now be justified on the grounds that she would be doing it to help Meredith out.

“Like, maybe I’ll ask her out, and we’ll get, oh, ‘friendlier’, too, like, I’ll, you know, tease her a little, and she’ll start doubting her heterosexuality and feeling and acting like a lesbian with me. That will kind of break her down for you, and she’ll feel more comfortable doing the same kinds of things with you later. I’m not sure I’ll do it, but if I did, would you mind?”

“Oh, uh…no…I guess not… But…what makes you think Monica can be changed like that? She’s always acted like a pretty die-hard straight girl, and…and even if we could, would it be right to trick her into changing?”

“Was it right when she attacked you and manipulated you all those times, and made you feel like dirt? And besides, you don’t know that she’s not a lesbian, underneath it all, do you? Maybe being straight was an act. Even if not, maybe she’d be happier as a lesbian. You might be doing her a favor by helping her see herself as a gay girl, or to even actually become one, and to admit to it. But, in any case, what an ironic and deserved punishment—she becomes what she accused you of being.”

“I didn’t think of it like that…but…maybe you have a point…”

“Good. Second, we’ll make her crazy about you. You’re going to make yourself so hot—not that you’re not already, ’cause you are, big time, and what you’re doing now is, like, wow. In fact, you’re perfect, just as you are right now. But you’re going to keep it up, and amp it up, so that she cannot possibly resist you, especially once she starts giving in to her new lesbian feelings. You’ll have her eating out of your hand like a lovesick puppy.

“And third, we’re going to make her jealous, so that she’ll be afraid of losing you if she resists you, if she doesn’t try her best to win you over, if she doesn’t surrender to you, on your terms, if she doesn’t beg you for the privilege of being your loving and devoted girlfriend.”

“Jealous? But how…?”

“You and me. We’re going to become girlfriends.” Immediately, Meredith’s heart flipped several times. If she understood what her beloved Claire was proposing, it registered in a hidden part of her soul as one of her fondest dreams, about to miraculously be fulfilled. Yet, another part of her was hesitant.

Does she mean…lesbian girlfriends? I’m…I’m not a lesbian…

“Would you like to be my girlfriend…Meredith?”

“Yes… I mean…What exactly…?... You know, I’m not a…”

Anticipating her petite roommate’s fears, Claire interrupted. “Don’t worry, sweetie, you don’t have to be a real lesbian for this. I’m not one either, and we don’t have to play up the sexual parts of it more than you’re comfortable with, and we don’t have to even say we’re lesbians. In fact we can deny it, and we can deny that we’re going with each other, and say we’re just who we always were and that we’re just friends, but that we have really come to like each other and have decided to spend more time with each other and get to know each other better—and I think that’s the absolute truth for both of us, anyway, right?—and even, you know, date, and we can pretend that we might be lesbians, and put on a show for her, and keep her guessing about which way we really swing and whether we’re a couple, whether we’re having sex, and the rest.

“You see, it will tease her. She won’t be able to stand being left out, watching you get into a relationship like that with another girl, especially once she starts getting lesbian feelings and starts crushing out on you. She’ll realize what she’s been missing out on, and what a dunderhead she’s been and she’ll want to out-compete me for your heart. Then, you let her win you over, you start reciprocating, you start doing the girlfriend things with her that you will have been doing with me, and that I will have been doing with her a little, too, to kind of warm her up for you…and you’ll be able to wrap her around your little finger.

“And one more thing we can use against her, if we need to: Her family. Who knows what they would do to her if they found out she sleeps with girls? That she is ‘rumored to be a lesbian’? I remember her telling me that Latino families like hers, especially powerful, wealthy ones, are extremely traditional, and would do more than simply frown on her. My guess is Monica would probably do anything to stop them from finding out. Anything. Including being extremely nice to you, all the time, and doing whatever you say…and becoming your sweet and affectionate girlfriend…and adopting the gay lifestyle. Wouldn’t you love to see that?”

“So…blackmail…?”

“Sure… We can keep it in reserve as a last resort, if we need it. But why not?” Claire said it in a nonchalant tone, as if blackmail was perfectly acceptable, whether to get someone into a relationship or for whatever other selfish goal one might have.

The plan which Claire had just outlined was not something she had concocted prior to this morning, other than the elements in it which were also included in the less-aggressive plan she had proposed to Meredith on the day before. In both cases, ideas had just popped into Claire’s mind as she had conversed with Meredith, and had coalesced into cohesive strategies for her to present to her friend.

Though Claire still thought, on the surface, that her main motive was one of simply wanting to be of assistance to her cute redheaded friend, and to help her establish a lasting, harmonious relationship with Monica—though now she was willing to employ devious and extreme tactics to accomplish that—her underlying real objective, of which she was not consciously aware, was to convert both Meredith and Monica into steadfast, sexy lesbians, not only to get them together as lovers, but, even more so, to make both into the type of girls who would let Claire get into their panties. Likewise, Meredith’s underlying but unrecognized primary motivations relating to Monica now were her deep lust for her, and the desire to completely dominate her, which had been implanted into her, which motives were abetted by her Sapphic desire for Claire, and her yearning to cultivate a romantic relationship with her—not just the wish for peace and friendship with Monica, nor the desire to get back at the Latina a little, which were her initial goals and still constituted her superficial justification to go along with Claire’s proposed devious scheme.

As Meredith mulled it over, her thoughts turned to the temperamental Latina vixen. She initially thought about Monica’s snobbish attitude and the frequent bickering, but as Meredith continued to ponder about Monica, something deep in her mind guided her to think of some of Monica’s better, more sensual qualities, such as her silky, long black mane, eye-catching rack, smooth skin, and, oh, yes, that lovely, desirable butt the Latina had displayed a few minutes previously. She reviewed a mental image of the fox in her bra and panties, and found her pulse beating faster. Surely a closer relationship with this lush specimen of young femininity…whether it be a normal sisterly friendship or something more…more intimate…would be worth the compromising price of a ruse. The latter concept, of physical and emotional intimacy, of love and sensuality with the black-haired beauty, struck the redhead with great appeal, and started to crystalize into a new, definite, cherished, and conscious aim within her.

More dark whispers from her corrupted subconscious mind then nudged and pulled her further and into a kinkier set of desires. They reminded Meredith of the abuse she had taken from bullies like Monica. They told her that Monica deserved to be knocked down a peg or two. They suggested that, by playing the proposed subterfuge on Monica, Meredith would be striking a blow for girls like her. They fanned the flame of incensed injustice until it, combined with the lust for the Latina now also burning within her, grew hot enough to blind Meredith’s rational thinking.

“You’re right, Claire.” She took a deep breath. “I’m tired of being stepped on and pushed around. It’s time I do some pushing of my own.”

“That’s my girl!” Claire tightened her hug and kissed her again, this time on the redhead’s cheek. Meredith felt bathed in approval, as well as in an increasingly sensual closeness with her pretty roommate, Claire. Feeling moved to reciprocate Claire’s kiss, and thinking her friend might not notice, or if she did, might not object, Meredith pressed her lips into the breast flesh adjacent to her mouth, kissing the smooth, bulging, fragrant skin. Claire did feel it, and the experimental lick that followed, and smiled to herself at her pretty redheaded friend’s daring affection.

Call me a fucking dyke. Well, we’ll see who’s the dyke after I get through with you! The gears turned in Meredith as she thought of ways to manipulate the foxy Latina towards her whims. For the briefest of moments, Meredith thought she heard a sinister laugh echo within her mind as she thought of Monica’s downfall.

As Claire held Meredith around the waist, and was already lightly caressing the smooth skin there, she allowed her fingers to stray, drawn as they seemed to be by the glossy silver material of the redhead’s bra and panties and the treasures contained within them. Her right hand slid gradually higher, until it made contact with the silky underside of the redhead’s bralettte, and ever so softly, nearly imperceptibly, stroked the lower portions of the slick material and curves.

Sneaking another peek down between her friend’s legs, Claire could see that Meredith’s brief panties had pulled tighter against her groin. Her mons was now clearly delineated beneath the brief panties, and the thin material had slipped into the vaginal cleft, revealing the soft swell of her labia. Fascinated at the erotic sight, Claire stared. It struck her that it would not take much for her hand to slide right into that little pouch, and to find that sweet slit directly, or to at least cup the vulva in her hand through the slick material.

Without quite deciding consciously to so do, her left hand started to slip, quite leisurely, down onto the redhead’s abdomen, pausing a few moments at her navel, then descending lower, with soft little caressing touches, dwelling for a time on the mid-abdomen, but then eventually drifting down to the lower abdomen, very slowly but ever-closer toward the silver-covered pubic mound.

Meredith once again checked Claire’s face to see where she was looking, and found herself mysteriously thrilled to discover her friend’s interest in the prize barely hidden in her silver panties. Meredith sensed she was highly desirable, in a way she had not felt as recently as the day before, and gloried in it. Faint impressions rippled through her emotions: Yes…I am a hot babe… Look all you want… Touch whatever you want… Without quite knowing what she was doing, Meredith found herself spreading her thighs apart a little more, in subconscious invitation.

Both girls considered, on the surface, the caresses, though adventurous, to be merely the sisterly affection of one girl comforting another. However, Claire caught herself and wondered why she was stroking her friend’s bare skin and, now the material of her bralette, in an ever more exploratory manner. But she didn’t want to stop, and so she restated an excuse to herself: When girls touch girls, it’s just in friendship. She immediately again dismissed her behavior as natural sisterly conduct.

“Now…let’s talk about you and me…” Claire’s voice was soft and rather sultry. Certainly Meredith hadn’t heard this kind of tone in Claire’s voice much before, if ever, but she found it bewitching.

“You and me?”

“Yes… We’re girlfriends now…remember?”

“Oh…yeah…to fool Monica…”

“That’s right, but it’d probably be best if we didn’t think of it like that…you know? I mean, we have to be convincing, and, even though we both know that we’re pretending, if we think of it as ‘pretend’, and act like it’s fake, she’ll see through us.”

“Oh…I see your point… Well…what do you suggest we do?”

“Well…when we’re in the apartment, and any other place Monica might possibly see us, we need to show our ‘affection’…maybe not all the time, but enough that she gets the drift. Maybe even when she’s not around, so we’ll be used to it. Would that be okay?”

“Okay.” The idea was more than okay with Meredith, whatever Claire might have meant by it.

“And…I think we should…like I mentioned before…you know…date…each other…just like real girlfriends would do. No, I said that wrong… I mean, because we are real girlfriends. You see? That’s how we have to talk and even to think. Anyway, would you like to go out with me, Meredith? Like to see a movie?”

“Uh…okay…sure………. I’d love to, Claire.”

“And then, of course, there’s one other thing girlfriends do.” Claire’s air was now oozing seductiveness. The raven-haired beauty kissed the cute redhead on her bang-covered forehead. “Can you think what that might be?” Claire kissed Meredith’s neck, the bold act sending an electric thrill through the delicate beauty, and seemed to herald an escalation of their intimacy.

“Do you mean…kissing?”

“Yeah… Would you like to try it out…my beautiful girlfriend…Meredith?”

“Yeah…I would…”

“Then kiss me.”

Both girls had wanted this, desperately, and, with a fabricated justification now in place, neither hesitated. Their lips met, lightly and tenderly, pink lipstick mixing with red-bronze, each tasting another girl’s soft lips for the first time, as far as they knew. Breaking for a few seconds and staring into each other’s eyes, they then inclined their heads together again, this time joining mouths for a half-minute.

As the two coeds each surrendered to the novel pleasure of merging their lips, Claire seized the opportunity, while her companion was distracted, as she supposed, to commit another act she had been dying to attempt for the last five or ten minutes, namely, to cop a more intimate, if limited, feel of her friend’s private parts. She snuck one hand onto the silver bralette to gently cradle one of Meredith’s compact breasts through the satin fabric, and slid her other hand delicately over the tiny front panel of the silver panties. Through the thin, slick material, she felt some soft, crinkly public hair just below the little piece’s upper border, and then, roving lower very lightly, her fingers found Meredith’s tender female groove.

The fabric was soaking wet. Both the realization that she must have caused that and the arousal underlying it in her partner, and the marvelous sensation of fingering—though with the lightest of touches—another girl’s pussy lips through wet satin, gave Claire a jolt of inexplicable joy.

Both girls moaned very softly as the kiss and touches progressed. Intellectually, Claire knew that she was crossing a line from sisterly to sexual, yet she nevertheless justified herself on the grounds that she, pretending to be Meredith’s new girlfriend, was entitled to take some liberties, and that it was merely part of their game to trick Monica, and that both she and Meredith had been wanting to get closer anyway—as sisterly friends—and that this was, therefore, a normal and mutually agreeable extension of their mutual respect for each other but, Claire also recalled Regina’s lesson of trying to behave more like a lesbian in order to under to understand them and prevent the loss of her sponsorship due to her upbringing. And since they were two straight girls, she told herself delusionally, it could not be regarded as anything more than that.

Claire felt like ripping Meredith’s tiny bralette and panties off her nubile body, carrying her to Meredith’s bed, and “deepening their friendship” much further, but she understood, now that they were “together” in a lesbian-like relationship, that there would be opportunities later to pursue the unfinished business of this morning with the adorable redhead, and also that the other two roommates would likely be waiting for them to join them, so she gently broke off the kiss.

“I think our pout session is over, honey. Ready to head out and find the others?”

“Absolutely,” Meredith replied—breathless, bedazzled, and in bliss. Claire stood and pulled her pretty new redheaded girlfriend to her feet, after which the raven-haired beauty gave her one more, surprising, delightful peck on the lips. Meredith then pulled an equally surprised and thrilled Claire back for yet another kiss, first smiling into her eyes and breathing the word “girlfriend” into Claire’s mouth before their painted lips met again. By a very mutual consent, this one lingered for a decidedly romantic minute.

This brief joining of her mouth with Meredith’s metallic reddish-bronze lips stirred the memory within Claire of having been kissed by Traci’s likewise metallic silver-painted lips in the moonlight of the previous evening. Claire’s imagination sketched for her a scenario of having gone further with Traci, of their having fallen into a hot make-out session in the parking lot, and that fantasy drove Claire to add an even more ardent passion into her brief round of oral affection with her petite girlfriend this morning.

As they walked out of the bedroom and down the hallway, Claire took Meredith’s hand in hers, bringing a little smile to Meredith’s face.

Approaching the living room, Meredith realized that she would be seeing Monica in a few seconds and that she now had a terrific conspiratorial plan in place to deal with her. Meredith’s little smile assumed a predatory character.

Meanwhile...

Monica opted not to go to her room and instead headed towards the common area of the dorm to sort out the thoughts in her head, not realizing that the first thing she normally would have done in a situation like this would have been to have gone back to her bedroom and gotten something more on, at least a bathrobe—but neither she nor her roommates, after the initial shock of their compromised situation wore off, took any thought to cover up beyond the bras and panties they wore. Preoccupied, she sat down on a sofa, trying to gain some kind of recollection as to how she ended up sharing a bed with Meredith and whether they could have done anything scandalous in it.

Monica’s view of homosexuality was something of a live-and-let-live approach. She didn’t go out of her way to meet and interact with people of the LGBT community, but she didn’t actively seek to shun or persecute them, either. So far, her stay in Preston had not forced her to stray out of her comfort zone—until now.

What frightened her most about this incident was the chance of her mother somehow catching wind of it. While Monica had no issues with gay people, her mother did. As a public figure in her hometown, Isabella maintained a facade of tolerance, but in private she couldn’t stand the LGBT community. Many had been the times Monica had overheard her mother in private spew forth contempt aimed at gays and transgender people whom she was forced to employ and to serve in her banks, and at others in the public eye. If word of this incident reached Isabella, she would most likely call out a hit on Monica, it almost seemed, rather than have to endure just one day with the knowledge that her daughter was a lesbian.

To Monica’s mind, this episode could only have happened if Meredith had somehow taken advantage of her. That, and fear of her mother, were the reasons for Monica’s angry, panicked reaction to finding herself in bed with Meredith half-naked, and to two other girls observing them in that state. However, had Monica taken the time to analyze all of her feelings about the event, she would have found that she had scant other negative reaction to having been nearly naked in a bed with another pretty girl—and especially so with Meredith—and that, in fact, she had rather liked the experience, or, at least, that the idea of it would have had its attractions, as she had not been awake in bed with Meredith long enough to truly appreciate the reality of it.

Absorbed by her mental pondering, Monica failed to notice Jessica walk in. When she heard Jessica inquire about her well-being, she was jolted by surprise.

“You okay there, Monica?”

“Jesus! Don’t sneak up on people okay?”

“Wow, calm down there, princess. No need to get so snippy with me.” Monica noticed that Jessica’s voice seemed slightly higher and more cordial and lacked a confrontational tone compared to the way her voice would have sounded in the past in a similar situation, and voiced similar words. There was, in fact, a sweetness in her solicitous manner which Monica found unusual, though welcome, coming from the otherwise blunt, athletic girl. “Just asking if you’re okay.”

Monica felt a twinge of embarrassment for having reacted sharply to Jessica’s inquiry. This feeling made her also reflect with some regret upon the nastiness she had thrown at Meredith, and upon the injured look on Meredith’s face after Monica had accused her of being a “dyke”.

“... Sorry, I… I think I hurt Meredith…again… I didn’t mean to… Just between you and me, I actually like her… I…I think she’s really cute…but…the whole thing caught me off guard and…and I’m just not in a great mood.”

“I noticed, but I guess I can’t blame you.” Jessica sat down on the sofa a foot or two from the Latina, and turned toward her. “Especially if you woke up in someone else’s bed with no clear memory of how you got there.”

“Do… do you recall what happened last night?” Monica asked. Without thinking, she lowered her eyes to her roommate’s bra and cleavage, while Jessica’s focus settled for a few moments on the Latina’s dark, deep red lips.

With all that had just transpired, Jessica hadn’t yet taken the time to analyze the morning’s events, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. After all, when she had woken up, she had been greeted by the gorgeous sight of Claire’s nubile body clad only in her bra and panties, and what a sexy view it was. Being frank with herself, she admitted that she wouldn’t mind it happening again. If only she could recall what brought them into bed together…and then figure out how to bring it about another time in the future...

Jessica felt arousal stiffen her nipples and make her pussy moisten slightly as she began to fantasize about getting Claire into her bed again. When her eyes drifted down the body of the semi-naked Monica in front of her, Jessica couldn’t help but think of getting Monica into her bed also, or maybe herself into Monica’s. An image formed in Jessica’s mind of the two of them wrapped in each other’s arms, making out in a bed, hands working to loosen bras and sliding over and into panties, boosting the erotic physical responses she was already experiencing.

Monica could see that Jessica seemed to go off in a daze and she gave Jessica a puzzled look. Monica took the opportunity to run her eyes over her athletic roommate, noticing how cute she was looking and how appetizing she was in her shiny, ice-blue bra and panties. To Monica, it was as if she had never noticed Jessica’s allure before, found the discovery intoxicating, and felt herself wanting to be closer to her and to touch her.

Then Monica also noticed the way Jessica appeared to be checking her out with a leering gaze. Not only was it unlike anything Jessica had ever done before and a bit on the unsettling side, but the Latina also found it rather flattering and exciting, as well. Driven by a subconscious desire to let Jessica have a better look, Monica, who had been sitting with her arms wrapped around her chest, dropped her arms to her sides, placed her hands on her beautiful hips and subtly shifted her upper body so it thrust her bra-encased chest out. Monica felt an inadvertent gratification when Jessica opened her eyes wider and her mouth opened slightly. The Latina felt a momentary urge to reach behind her back and unlatch her bra, the same urge she had felt earlier in Meredith’s bedroom with all the roommates watching her, but she suppressed it.

Instead, she reached out and glided her fingers through Jessica’s hair, knowing she liked it in some new way, but not quite being able to figure out what was different about it or why she now was more interested in Jessica and her attractive looks than in the past. “By the way, Jessica, I like your hair.” Monica looked the sexy, athletic coed over with an interest, a novel physical interest, which she had never felt for her before, as she played with the now lighter brown locks, twirling some curled strands around in her fingers, and stroking the cute ice-blue hair ribbons, before letting go.

Jessica still seemed preoccupied and merely whispered, “Oh…thanks…”

Both caramel-skinned hotties stared longingly into one another’s eyes, Monica entranced by the new girlish personality, looks, and aura that Jessica was showcasing and Jessica hypnotized by Monica’s breasts, to the wonderful view of which her eyes had been descending repeatedly, each young woman finding herself to be, as it were, in the midst of amazing discoveries and each endeavoring to fathom the beauties in the soul of the other.

At length, however, Monica broke away from the longing staring contest she and Jessica were having, wanting to refocus and solve the mystery of how she ended up in Meredith’s bed. The thought ran through her mind that waking up with the cute redhead so close to her, in the same bed, actually had not been so bad…and that…if she could somehow replicate that situation…meaning of the two of them in bed…together…and do it without it ending in a screaming contest…well…that might be an interesting possibility…very, very interesting….

“Hello… Jessica?” Monica’s voice was melodic and teasing, before becoming more insistent, as Monica figured it was time to get their conversation back on track. “Hey Jessica! Did you hear me? Do you know what happened last night?” Monica’s second attempt to inquire about last night’s event managed to snap Jessica back out of her lust-filled daydream and back to reality.

“Huh? Oh, wow, sorry there, Monica, kind of drifted off there for a moment.” She reached out to touch Monica’s leg, as if reassuring the Latina that she was listening now, but, just as much, to steal a feel of Monica’s smooth, exposed thigh.

Already frustrated, Monica tried to maintain her calm and asked again. “So do you…”

“Don’t worry. I heard you.” Jessica ran her fingertips lightly along the beautiful, medium-brown skin of her companion’s leg, again to appear to underline her communication but, more so, for the thrilling physical contact. Monica found herself enjoying the little caress, as well.

“Well?”

“Sorry, but I’m not sure what happened last night myself.” She stood up, and looked around. “Thought maybe there might be a clue or something out here that might let us know.”

Monica let out an exasperated sigh, seeing that asking Jessica was just a dead end and a waste of time, and also unknowingly feeling a certain deprivation at the loss of Jessica’s exciting touches on her leg. However, taking a cue from Jessica’s comment, Monica arose and scanned the living room, trying to see if there was anything that could shed some light on this fiasco.

She turned her focus to the second couch, a loveseat, where she saw a pair of jeans draped over its back. Upon further inspection, she saw other articles of female clothing strewn over the sofa, the recliner, and the floor adjacent to them.

Well…at least I know what we did with our clothes!

As she started to sort her own clothing from the mess, her eyes were drawn to the coffee table and was shocked by what she saw.

“What the…?!”

Jessica turned toward her Latina roommate. “You found something?”

Monica raised her arms and in her hands were two large, empty bottles, while a third lay on the table. The labels and the smell from them were all the clues both young women needed to detect what used to be in those bottles and that it was most likely the cause of everyone’s lack of recollection of the night.

“Arghh!!!” Monica screamed in frustration.

“Whoa, calm down there, Monica,“ Jessica cautioned, but with a deferential tone, in contrast to the combative tone, she was more likely to have used in the past. “So we got drunk last night… At least we now have a good idea what happened to us.” The last remark was stated with a certain cheerfulness.

“You don’t get it. I smuggled these bottles out of my mom’s private collection and was saving them for a special occasion. The liquor here was valued at $2,000 each! ! And somehow my gluttonous roommates convinced me to empty three bottles!” Monica spat out the words with seething anger

At this point, Claire and Meredith walked in, witnessing an irate Monica holding two empty bottles. Neither Monica nor Jessica noticed that the two walked in holding hands.

“So…I take it Monica found out what happened to us last night?” speculated Claire.

“Yeah, apparently we somehow managed to finish off three bottles of some very, very fine and expensive liquor,” Jessica responded

“I will make all of you pay me back for these!” exclaimed Monica in an upset tone.

“Wait a minute,” interjected Meredith. “We’re missing something here. Okay… So we got drunk and we finished off some expensive alcohol, but why did we do it in the first place?”

Meredith’s inquiry brought up a very valid point as far as all four coeds were concerned. What would cause them to get so wasted last night that they couldn’t recall the events? Claire wasn’t much of a drinker, at most only drinking here and there, in small amounts, on very special occasions—although the idea of taking more than an occasional drink, to imbibe more heavily than in the past, seemed now to have a certain appeal to her—so she knew the probability was low that she was the one in this group who had initiated last night’s round of boozing. The same was true for Meredith and Jessica, as well.

That left Monica—the girl among them who had the worldliest and least disciplined reputation—as the likely instigator, which became clear to them all with a few moments of reflection. As the other three girls turned toward Monica, Claire voiced their common thought. “Uh…Monica…I don’t think it was any of us three who…who suggested…”

“Oh, you’re right. None of you even knew about my bottles. Arghh! It must have been me…”

Nevertheless, Monica was still upset at the waste of the expensive drink. The special occasion for which she had been saving it was her graduation from Preston University. It would have had to have been something momentous for her to have been willing to bring out such expensive liquor and to extravagantly share it with her roommates rather than to wait for her graduation, and, since she couldn’t remember or imagine such an overriding cause for celebration, she still had a suspicion that she had been tricked or otherwise wronged in this situation.

“There’s got to be another clue somewhere,” said Jessica. “Let’s take a look around and try to find something.” All the girls began to search the living room for some kind of tell-tale sign.

It was Monica who found the jackpot when she saw some papers underneath the empty bottle laying on the coffee table. She set aside the two bottles she was holding and picked up the third bottle with one hand and the papers with the other. Discerning that they looked like business letters, she began to read one.

A loud thunk was heard by the remaining girls when the Latina dropped the empty bottle to the carpeted floor, drawing their attention towards Monica, who had a stunned look on her face, her mouth gaping open and her eyes wide with shock. It looked as if someone had just punched her in the gut.

Trying to regain her focus, Monica looked at Claire and, with a trembling hand, extended the letters to her.

Curious as to what could have stunned Monica so badly, Claire hesitantly took the letters. Afraid that they could contain some kind of bad news, she carefully brought one of the letters up and began to read it. Jessica and Meredith stood at her side trying to read along, for their curiosity about the letters was as peaked as Claire’s.

Office of the Bursar

Preston University

125 West University Drive

Preston, Florida 32025

Claire Amanda Love-Livingston

Maxwell Residence Hall,

#240

Preston University

Preston, Florida 32025

Dear Ms. Love-Livingston:

The Preston University Bursar’s office has reviewed your application for student residential relocation. We are pleased to inform you that your application for relocation has been approved and that you have been awarded a stipend to fully cover the increase in housing fees relative to your current dorm apartment.

Although your application came at a time when student residency has already been determined for the current academic year and all of the rooms in the residence halls located on campus had been assigned and occupied, a vacancy has opened, creating this opportunity for you.

If you wish to continue with the relocation, please contact the Bursar’s Office within 72 hours of receiving this e-mail. Upon completion of the necessary paperwork, you will be allowed to move into your new residence hall immediately.

Your new campus residence will be the Preston Suites, #412, located on St. Pietro Lane on the university campus.

We thank you for being a part of the Preston University community.

Cordially,

Alex L. Cambell

Director, Bursar’s Office

After finishing her letter, Claire, like Monica had been, was in a state of shock. She looked at the three other printed letters and they all stated the same thing, with the exception of the names of the addressee’s, being likewise letters of relocation for Jessica, Meredith, and Monica.

All girls were thunderstruck to learn that they were being relocated to the Preston Suites, also known as “the Suites” by students and staff. The Suites were a high-end luxury residence hall primarily reserved exclusively for students who were related to very generous donors, or from prestigious and influential families, or from families wealthy enough to pay the exorbitantly high residence fees for living in such an extravagant location. Even then, there was a waiting list, and knowing some “right” person in the school administration was very helpful, if not essential, to secure a spot. Every student wanted to live there, many desperately so, but only a choice few had that privilege. Not even those that had full-ride scholarships could gain entry into the luxurious housing without the right connections. So for Claire and her roommates to all be granted this transfer in the first place, and then, on top of that, to be awarded stipends to cover the extra cost of living there, made this truly astounding news.

There was a moment of silence as the girls digested this new piece of the puzzle. However, it was short-lived, as the girls then broke out into squeals of excitement, giddily jumped up and down, and spontaneously hugged each other. They were moving into the most coveted dormitory on campus. It was now no wonder to any of them why they had gotten wasted last night. It was definitely something worth celebrating.

“OMG! I can’t believe it!” shouted Meredith.

“Clairebear! I can’t… I mean… You hit the jackpot with your sponsor!”

“Yes, oh, absolutely, yes! Claire, if you pardon me saying, you have the devil’s luck, but I can’t thank you enough for this opportunity!”

“Monica’s right, we owe this to Claire,” Jessica chimed in.

“Thanks, Claire,” said Meredith.

As all four young, sexy, semi-naked coeds were hugging and bouncing with exuberant joy, Claire basked in the adulation of her friends and in their common good fortune. Yet, she knew someone else was behind the offer to move into such choice accommodations, as she hadn’t even applied for the relocation. It seemed clear that her sponsor had somehow convinced someone, most likely Regina, to submit the paperwork on her behalf, had pulled strings to get it approved, and was going to be paying for the extra costs. As far as she was concerned, her traumatic uncertainty about her status at the university and about her future life was over and things were looking up. It would be smooth sailing from here on out.

Lost on every girl present were the facts that they were still all attired merely in bras and panties and that none of them minded it in the least. Yes, they had been with each other in their underwear before this, but it had always been in their bedrooms or in the bathroom or hallway, and only for brief periods of time, never in the living room or for a prolonged period such as this. On this morning, the real alarm to them had been to discover themselves in bed with another girl, but, little had any of them paused to realize, not so much to find themselves dressed as they were, and none of them had returned to her room or fished into her closet for so much as a bathrobe, tee-shirt, or shorts to cover up. On the contrary, each one had, without stopping to think about it, felt comfortable showing off her body, touching or embracing a roommate, and checking out the lithe bodies surrounding her in a nearly nude state—which each one had been doing consistently since they had gotten up.

As Claire and Meredith stood next to each other, almost without thinking they joined their hands and laced their fingers together, while Monica and Jessica stood across the coffee table from them, hip-to-hip, their arms casually and unconsciously wrapped around the waist of each other.

For the first time since they woke up in Meredith’s bed, the Hispanic beauty took the opportunity to look Meredith over, her eyes seemingly drawn to her magnetically. For the first time, she noticed her red-haired roommate’s sexy beauty, including her fetching styled, blonde-streaked, brilliant red hair, her very pretty, heavily made-up face, and her slim, delicate body, with it’s enticing, developing curves as revealed in a most arresting manner by her lewd, silky silver underwear.

Wow…Meredith… She’s…she’s so pretty… I never realized…

For the first time in her conscious world, Monica felt her new and specific pre-programmed lust for her destined soulmate surge through her body, catching her quite off-guard. Her face flushed, her pulse started to race, and her nipples tingled. Meredith… I…I didn’t know…what a doll…what a babe…..wow…….

Then she noticed her suddenly intriguing, petite roommate standing very close to Claire, and the two holding hands. Oh… What’s going on there…? A twinge of jealousy passed through her—also a first, accompanying her first, heady rush of sexual attraction to the fair redhead.

“Wait, girls. I don’t think I deserve that much credit here,” Claire countered. As Monica turned her attention to the current speaker, she found herself also checking out Claire with a new carnal interest. Oh…She looks good, too…oooo… “Let’s not forget that it was probably my sponsor that did this for me and for all of us. So if anyone deserves thanks, it should be Serena Powers.”

“Yes.”

“Absolutely.”

In unison, all four coeds gave thanks to Serena Powers for her generosity. “Praise be to Serena Powers!” All four began to chant, completely unaware that they were doing so largely in response to the brainwashing which each of them had received and equally unaware that they were being observed via a small remote spy camera.

On the other end, Regina watched her monitor as all four girls were celebrating—and eyeing each other up rather obviously and touching each other with more affection than might be expected from merely sisterly friends—completely oblivious to the sinister plans Regina had in store for them.

“Yes, praise be to Serena Powers,” Regina whispered to herself, knowing it would not be long before all four young women now under her sway would be singing the complete song of the converted, which would feature the next phrase, which she spoke aloud. “Praise be to the Goddess.”