The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

There’s something Ed doesn’t know. It has to do with the smaller portion Joanna ingested and her body’s tolerance from having encountered the drug before. Whereas Autumn is peaking – her mind pliable like silly putty to be shaped in any form, this effect in Joanna tapers off. Although Autumn’s pussy still tastes delicious, and suggestions fed to her adhere to her mind like plaque, the single-mindedness of her craving subsides. Joanna becomes aware of Ed’s absence, of Autumn’s licking, of wet pussy pressed to her face.

She’s in a position to tell Autumn anything she wants without Ed’s resentment or disagreement. As soon as she realizes this, warping Autumn’s young mind emerges as her best notion ever.

What foundation to lay there?

A thought pops into her head. Hadn’t this all started with her desire to help her guy friends find girlfriends? Here’s a willing candidate.

“Do you know Barry, Mike and Greg?”

The pace of Autumn’s licking slows while she considers it. Finally, she says yeah.

“They need girlfriends,” Joanna says, which makes perfect sense to them both.

Of course they need girlfriends. The needle lifts from the record spinning in her mind; momentary silence ensues. The logic of Barry, Mike and Greg needing girlfriends is so obvious, so right, no more needs saying. Men are From Mars, Women are from Venus, you might say? Women just like to vent? Women aren’t problem solvers? Try telling that to Joanna now, Autumn too.

A problem is present. However women normally are – whether their lack of good ideas is caused by less active production, a rarer ability to recognize them or maybe just less self-confidence – Joanna and Autumn are honorary men this afternoon. A problem has been presented. This afternoon they are problem solvers.

“We’ll be their girlfriends,” Autumn says. Never mind her poor boyfriend, that caring guy she saved her virginity four years longer than her most sexually-inexperienced friend to meet. It doesn’t matter they’re in love and planning to marry after college.

And Ed? Well, he’s forgotten too. For now.

“We’ll be their girlfriends,” Joanna agrees. The girls lock eyes and can’t afford to look away. In each other’s eyes, an explanation for quantum behavior hints its open hand. If it would just stay still – justify the human search for meaning. The thought of quenching that thirst: man’s search for meaning. If it would just stay still for a second, long enough for the edges to sharpen for recognition, enlightenment would burst every wall between them, Lake Mead finally showing that stupid Hoover Dam who’s boss. Cities would be washed away, insecurities drowned. Life would be oh so altogether different.

Right now skin might as well be wire tourniquet, tight as containment constricts. Their souls stretch to pop free. Their eyes become increasingly intense. It’s insane how the girls look, like they’re about to snap and start killing each other. If there really is a collective unconsciousness, if that wasn’t just Autumn’s addled imagination on idea juice, some sort of psychic cable connects them. That connection is about a football field wide now. And keeps getting bigger. Reality erodes into it. Imagine a sinkhole in the middle of your lawn, getting wider and wider, becoming a canyon until surprise, your house disappears. Joanna and Autumn are two black holes connected by awareness, stretching forever through the vacuum between them. It feels like Heaven, and the other place too.

“You’ll be my girlfriend too,” Joanna says.

Autumn grins. “We’re girlfriends.”

And they are, just like that. They’re girlfriends, and are Barry, Mike and Greg’s girlfriends. This is so true and right. All their lives, every coincidence leading up to this moment had led them to each other, to this destiny.

Maybe this isn’t the kind of purpose to make them rich, but it is something to deflect the loneliness we all feel and seldom recognize, that of being one soul per body. Joanna and Autumn smile at each other. Although certifiably insane, they are horny and attractive. Joanna thinks back to the first time she tried the good idea drug, last week. She’d been ready to give all the guys blowjobs. That desire stayed with her after, and the belief that they should always be naked with each other. Ed had done all he could to prevent that, keeping her at his apartment when she wasn’t at school.

When she saw one of the guys in the hall, Joanna gave him suggestive looks. Seeing any of them set her off fingering herself. Prophylactically, she’d cut one pocket from each pair of her jeans so as to masturbate undetected.

This decision allowed her to fulfill her desire. Joanna’s heart beat faster with excitement. She and the boys had unfinished business, and sucking their dicks still seemed like a perfectly wonderful idea.

“Let’s go there now,” she tells Autumn. “They always hang out at Barry’s making D&D characters, although sex is way more interesting.”

Autumn can’t stop nodding and grinning. She’s become Joanna’s little yes-girl. That is so true! Autumn agrees to anything. She is instantly reborn as a positive thinker, a perfectly eager follower. She starts to think ‘Joanna’s follower’, then realizes also Barry and Mike’s. She forgets Greg’s name. A couple years older than the rest of them (though still younger than Ed), Autumn is farther removed from the whole Junior class crowd. Autumn forgets Greg’s name, can’t picture Greg’s face, but doesn’t forget a third person is included. She tries to fish his name from her memory, but instead, during the delay, the revelation that she’s a follower generalizes. No longer does she only follow specific someones. She follows anyone.

It occurs to her now that she’s submissive, and preconceptions about what that word means associate with her definition of herself.

They leave Ed’s apartment and the light seems abnormally bright. Autumn hadn’t expected it and winces. Joanna squints to see and leads Autumn by the hand, clinging tightly. The light makes their heads pound and throats feel scratchy. Once, when Joanna glances over at Autumn, the girls are amazed by how dilated their pupils are.

Autumn smells chemicals, the same scent she imagined earlier was Ed’s cerebral fluid, a scent she thought she detected astrally: the stew his mind simmers in. Joanna smells it too and recognizes it from before. She hardly noticed it then, focused as she’d been on being alone with Ed in his room, but it’s unmistakable. You just know smelling this is bad for your brain. They don’t discuss it, so don’t know both smell it. It must be related to the drug, Joanna figures.

No matter. Here’s Barry’s house now…

The girls knock and giggle. Here’s the thrill of nervous anticipation. Both girls are bombs, set to go off at first sight. Barry’s mom answers the door. “Joooooanna! Hello, and how have you been? It’s been a real quiet week here in Lake Wobegon.”

“Huh?” Autumn wonders.

“Ignore it,” Joanna whispers. “She always talks like that.” Then, in a friendly, customer- service voice, says to Barry’s Mom, “Hi, Barry’s Mom. Is Barry here?”

Barry’s Mom looks high. She asks about Danny. She hasn’t seen him lately either.

“I don’t know, Mrs. Balloski. I haven’t seen him lately either. We broke up.”

Mrs. Balloski becomes sympathetic, looks even higher. “Then it wasn’t meant to be,” she says. “How did it happen?”

“No offense, Mrs. Balloski. I really don’t feel like talking about it. Danny was a selfish asshole.”

This is the first time Joanna’s ever cursed in front of Barry’s mom, the first time she’s ever knowingly cursed in front of any adult. Barry’s mom laughs and steps out of the way. “They’re in his room,” she says.

The girls hurry passed her. They share a look before opening Barry’s door, seeing their excitement and joy reflected in each other’s expressions.

When was the last time you felt joy because you were about to see somebody?

Would you like to feel it again?

Take Autumn’s hand. Joanna opens the door. Hold tight. Follow them inside.

You never saw three happier guys in your life than Barry, Mike and Greg. Joanna notices how their faces light up seeing her and Autumn, at having girls in their proximity.

Seeing them happy feels good. “Close the door behind you,” she whispers back, “so we can get naked.”

You close the door.

The world stops when Joanna takes off her shirt. Every one of those boys’ hearts skips a beat. Autumn’s heart speeds up in expectation of greater oxygen debt. The boys’ hearts, when they resume, pound to catch up, and then the world starts moving again, very, VERY fast.

Barry gets up to give Joanna a hug. The other guys get up, in line for hello hugs too. Mike hugs Autumn and Greg waits his turn. Barry’s not letting go of Joanna, or maybe Joanna’s holding onto Barry. Greg’s lost and alone, wondering if their pairings are concluded that quickly. His brain fights that horror. It’s too much for his puny ego. Mike isn’t letting go of Autumn!! Greg latches on for a group hug. He can’t help himself.

If they’d get off her, Autumn would take off her shirt. They’d enjoy hugging her a lot more. But they hang on for dear life trying to make the hug last and last. Reflexively, Autumn tries to wiggle free. They’d rather have her topless, she wants to be topless and she wants to be a good girlfriend by campaigning for their interests. They’ve got a fucking death grip on her. The immediacy of her desire to be in an alternate universe where her shirt is already gone forever smothers under the boys’ self-defeating enthusiasm. She catches herself resenting it, and quickly rejects any negative thoughts.

I should think it’s sweet they’re so happy to see me.

The contradiction spins her mind in circles. It’s just like how Star Trek: TNG defeated the Borg, except the guys do eventually let go. Autumn strips off her shirt, smiling like a girl scout about to sell a whole crateful of cookies. The guys are smiling too. Joanna and Barry make out on the edge of his bed. Autumn gives them a glance, then introduces herself to Mike and Greg. “We’re going to be your girlfriends,” she says, loving how they admire her body. She grins mischievously, thinking how much hornier they’ll be next time, when she’s stripping off pink latex.

“What do you guys want to do first?” she asks. “We have forever.”

This is too good to be true. The guys can’t believe they’re awake.

Mike and Greg aren’t nearly as smart as Barry. Barry isn’t putting much worry into figuring out why the girls came. In the back of his mind, probably waits some hypothesis ready. He’d have an answer if asked. But that answer’s fine where it is. In the front of his head, he has Joanna’s warm mouth. Her kissing him is the most exciting moment of his life. He loves how she feels in his arms, so vulnerable. He savors her lips and tongue, and her hand rubbing his dick through his jeans.

Just then – there’s two knocks on the door and then it opens. It’s Ed. His brain stumbles over itself when he sees Joanna and Autumn, trying to conjure a story to explain everything, at the same time trying to react. How should he react? Ed’s first instinct is to pull the girls out of here. They’re his, he thinks. He’s about to press play and start the movie when he remembers why he’s here. Ed remembers not to piss off Barry. He wants more orange powder.

“Hey, Barry,” Ed nods. “What’s up?” He’s ready to give Joanna a hard stare, but Joanna doesn’t turn around. She gives Barry his mouth back, moving hers to his ear. Joanna slurps into it, sending shivers down his neck.

“Not much,” Barry says.

Ed doesn’t know if he should mention the girls. It’s stating the complete obvious. He’s dumb to chat about them if he’s not prepared to do anything about it. “I was wondering if you had any more of that orange stuff. I brought a couple bottles of shit I think you guys will like.”

Barry’s thinking, do I really have to talk about this now? Joanna’s leaving hickeys on his neck and playing with his nipple. She’s grinding on his dick through their clothes. His hand’s in her pocket. Barry would give Ed anything to just come back later, but he’s afraid to be rude. If Ed isn’t cool with this, Danny isn’t here anymore to keep Ed in check. “I’ve got to go to Vitamin Hut and get more ingredients. I’ll have some later tonight, if you want.”

“Okay,” Ed says. He doesn’t know what else to say. He waits. Barry doesn’t say anything either.

“Okay, Joanna,” Ed tells her, “I’ll see you and Autumn back at my apartment in twenty minutes. Barry, bro, I’ll catch up with you tonight…”

He leaves.

“Dude,” Mike laughs, “we got his booty!”

Barry’s subconscious pushes its analysis forward and Barry presents it. “He used the stuff he had on them. That’s why he needs more.”

“Right,” Greg says. “That’s why he spoke to Joanna so weird. That’s why they’re…” He pauses short of finishing that thought, lest he interfere with whatever reason they think they’re here.

“So they’re probably still feeling it…”

“So you’re our girlfriends now?” Barry asks, clarifying what they told him before.

“Hmm-mmm,” the girls answer in unisin. It harmonizes, reminding everyone in the room of Ed’s lesbian porn, except for Autumn, who has never seen it.

“You’ll do anything we say.”

The girls picture themselves doing anything the guys say. It’s a vague visualization, a kaleidoscope of images, sounds and feelings – the most notable being the sound of three male voices and the excited flush obeying stirs inside, like an underskin caress.

“Forget Ed,” Mike says.

The girls don’t forget Ed, but they do forget any obligation to him—at least for now. Ed’s suggestions are dormant so long as they’re secure in Barry’s room.

“You guys should be naked too,” Joanna says. “Come on now, take them off.”

You don’t have to tell three horny teenagers twice. The clothes come off, pile into three organized heaps on the floor. As for the girl’s clothes, they land where they land. Autumn’s pants stay around her ankles; Mike bends her over, gripping her hips from behind. The guy behind her – Greg – fumbles with a condom.

“No condom,” Autumn says. “Don’t you know they cause cancer?”

“What?”

But Autumn doesn’t answer. She sucks off Mike instead, really giving him a first blowjob to remember.

“You should get some lingerie,” Mike tells her.

“Stremphy shinmph layex,” she replies, through a mouthful of dick. “Ink.”

Mike laughs. “Shh,” he says. “Don’t talk.”

Joanna isn’t saying much at the moment either. She’s been waiting all week to have Barry’s dick in her mouth. She steals this opportunity to practice the techniques she saw used by Autumn. She tries to be just like her, as best as she can remember. Joanna feels sexier acting like Autumn, better already. She hopes she can practice a few more times before Autumn gives Barry a basis for comparison.

Barry’s going to empty his prostate into her throat any second, fill her whole mouth with cum, the color and viscosity of fresh sap from a bleeding poppypod, milky-white. The drop she wrangles from the opening of his dick encourages her tongue action. Joanna has always had a long tongue. One of those stupid human tricks she learned as a kid was to extend it to touch the bottom of her chin. She licks her whole tongue around and around the head of Barry’s dick, like Autumn did to her clit, although obviously on a much greater scale. Her tongue is so long Joanna can do that, and still have Barry’s fat, thick cock in her mouth. But Barry doesn’t want to cum this way. It’s too personal to do in front of his friends. And he wants to prolong this experience. He dreads Joanna might be plucked from him as fast as she appeared—his own personal cocksucker. He wants to be with her for a while. He pushes her head from his lap.

“I want to be inside you,” he says.

They look for a condom. This distraction gives his dick a second to cool off. The millions of sperm lined up at the starting line waiting for Ready-Set-Go retreat to their locker room. Barry’s balls lose their urgency. His dick stays hard, but the head softens slightly. Joanna gives it a hard suck, making the thing rock solid again, and then rolls the condom to his pubes.

The condom Barry uses is a Beyond Seven, the thinnest condom you can find in the United States. He once researched condom comparisons online. This particular condom has fattened his wallet two years. Now it’s on his dick, finally. One of the testimonials he’d read said, “I had to keep pulling out to make sure the damn thing was still there.”

Barry has no similar urge. He wants his dick in Joanna until the day he dies.

There’s two knocks on the door, and Ed comes back in.

“I brought the alcohol,” Ed says. He’s holding a couple bottles. He opens one. “This is Cabana Boy coconut rum.” He hands it to Barry to taste, which in spite of his able brain, Barry almost does. Of course the rum is laced. Barry can’t know this for sure, but the possibility under current circumstances warrants caution. Barry never saw whether the seal was secure before Ed opened it.

“Now’s not really the best time,” Barry says. “I’ll call you tonight with more of that mix.”

“Just taste it,” Ed says. He’s holding out the bottle. “I just want to see if you like it, or else I’ll go buy something else.”

“I’m sure it’s fine, okay? I don’t need to taste it.”

“Dude,” Greg tells Barry, “don’t drink it. Ed probably dosed it with that stuff.”

Ed lowers the bottle. “That’s a really fucked up thing to say, Greg. You’re a fucking dickhead. If Barry’s smart, he won’t share with you.” He raises the bottle. “He won’t share this or my girls with you.”

Autumn tenses up. She’s not sure she likes Greg so much anymore, and then “His Girls” registers. It’s up to Ed and Barry to decide whether to share her and Joanna. They’re Ed’s girls, but Barry’s too. Barry can decide whether or not to share.

“Ed,” Barry says, “for all I know, that bottle is laced.”

Ed takes a long swig from it, and laughs. “Would I drink any if it was laced? Really, you know I’m trustworthy.”

Barry knows the exact opposite. He was here when Ed coerced Joanna from Danny. Ed’s completely underhanded. It dawns on him what Ed’s doing, why Ed’s returned. The trustworthy comment was for Joanna and Autumn’s benefit. His next comment confirms it: “I never lie.”

Ed screws the cap back on the bottle, giving it a little shake. He’s about to put it back in the bag when he pauses, and then holds it out to Barry. “Just let me know if you like it, then I’ll leave you alone until tonight.”

“Fine,” Barry says, taking it. He unscrews the lid and takes a sip. It nearly makes him wretch. His tongue and throat convulse. He twitches.

“Wasn’t that good?” Ed asks.

“Good,” Barry agrees. He’s not lying either. For the life of him, Barry doesn’t understand why his body had such an intense revulsion when it tasted so good.

“You want to try it?” Ed asks Greg. “No hard feelings?”

Greg shrugs and accepts the bottle. He takes a sip. Greg tastes vomit geyser up his esophagus, but swallows it back. He breathes opened-mouthed to alleviate his suffering. His eyes water.

“That’s delicious stuff, huh, Greg?”

Greg momentarily isn’t sure. He tries to remember how it tasted. The word that pops into his head is delicious.

“See, we’re all friends here. Mike, would you like to try some?”

“No,” Mike says. “I don’t drink.”

“You’re going to be a partypooper? Look, all the cool people are trying it. You really don’t belong here if you’re not going to at least taste.”

“I don’t drink,” Mike repeats.

Ed asks, “Joanna? Autumn? Try some?”

Both girls do.

“Tastes a little like orange bubblegum, eh?” Ed asks, laughing at his own joke.

Joanna starts to figure out Ed did lace it. Sometime between taking a swig and handing it to Barry, Ed dumped the rest of his powder in. Ed never lies, and never actually came right out and said he hadn’t.

She starts to hear a buzzing in her ears. Is this an overdose, Joanna wonders? Maybe the potion isn’t supposed to be mixed with alcohol.

Ed says, “I understand why my being here makes things awkward, since Joanna and Autumn are my playthings.”

Her identity keeps changing, becoming increasingly multi-faceted. She’s a whore, then she’s everyone’s girlfriend. Now she’s Ed’s plaything. Autumn tries to imagine what being a plaything entails, and her imagination is too creative for her own good. Being Ed’s plaything is more involved than being everyone’s girlfriend. A girlfriend still has free-will. A thing simply belongs.

Is Joanna thinking the same thing? Not exactly, but Barry and Greg are. Joanna’s thinking she always was Ed’s plaything. She’s Barry, Mike, Greg and Autumn’s girlfriend too. Neither role has more priority, per se, but more people have claim over her as a girlfriend. Joanna’s utilitarian in her thinking, bent upon providing the greatest good to the greatest number of people. Ed gets leftovers.

Ed keeps talking, “Some girls deserve your divided unattention. Do you know what I mean? Do you see how some girls are better just to hang out with? They’re pretty to look at, and they’re friendly to you, which makes you feel good. Doesn’t it, guys? Doesn’t it feel good to just have girls be good friends?”

“Well, yeah,” Greg says. “It feels good when a girl is nice to you.”

“Right,” Ed nods, flashing that enthusiastic grin. “And it feels good being nice to them.”

Barry and Greg nod, hypnotized, falling in sync with Ed’s own chicken dance. Interpretation makes this experience subtly subjective for them, but the boys stay more or less on the same page. Everyone understands Ed is referring to Autumn and Joanna, including Autumn and Joanna. This presents an alternate set of rules for what it means to be someone’s girlfriend. It means being willing, though you might never be asked. This alternate notion doesn’t seem like a bad idea.

The whole scene looks crazy to Mike. Barry and Greg nodding with Ed. The girls watching, fascinated. Ed seems to be speaking code.

Mike suddenly catches on. Doesn’t it make sense? Less adventurous people are dumber. Mike puts the puzzle together. He realizes all his friends have been dosed.

“Ed,” he says. “Get the fuck out of here right now. We don’t want you hanging out with us. And we don’t want your fucking rum!”

“Are you feeling left out because my rum is the most interesting thing about this party, and you’re too much of a loser to be part of the group?” Ed reaches out the bottle, as if to give Mike a second chance to get on the bus.

Mike looks pleadingly at Barry and Greg. “Ed laced that bottle. He tricked you all into drinking it so he could fuck with your minds.”

Mike’s charged now. He’s ready for a fight. Ed just smiles at him.

The minds of the inebriated soak up this influx of good ideas. Ed, get out. Keep your rum. The rum is the most interesting thing about this party. Mike’s too much of a loser to be part of the group. “Ed laced the bottle” translates from being an unintelligible packet of sounds and syllables to being a really clever idea. Ed fucking with their minds feels like the best experience they could have hoped for. They want more.

“Everybody, put your clothes back on,” Ed says. “It feels creepy with Mike here.”

The group gets dressed, except for Mike, who’s determined to defy anything Ed says. Soon, everyone’s dressed except Mike, which feels strange to him. While they’re getting dressed, Mike pushes Ed. “Get out,” he says. “Get out before I kick your ass.”

Tough talk from an eleventh grader. Ed punches him hard in the suborbital bone under his eye. Ed was never so tough when Danny was here, but Danny worked out and had muscles. Mike is all bones and black t-shirt. Ed swings again, hitting him in the temple and again, hitting him in the arms Mike has up protecting his face. Ed beats Mike into a corner, until Mike crumples into the fetal position to protect himself from Ed’s blows. Mike cries like a little sissy.

Ed laughs. Autumn can’t help laughing too. The laugh track pulls the rest of the herd in, sheep that they are. Everyone laughs at Mike. It’s very traumatic for him. He cries like a little lost child, and you can hear in it how still a child he really is. The secret language of sobs is readily translated by the attentive subconscious. Mike never knew the world could be this terrible. His parents never prepared him for such humiliation.

Meanwhile, the rest of them can’t stop laughing. It’s becoming harder to breathe, but the laughter keeps coming. “It hurts,” Joanna gasps, trying to catch her breath. Tears stream down her cheeks. Autumn laughs so hard she pees her pants. Barry and Greg’s faces grimace red. This one really huge vein bulges out of Barry’s head. Such things make the situation even funnier.

Wordlessly, Ed leaves the room. In the living room, he explains to Barry’s mom that Mike has gone crazy, taken off his clothes, punched himself and gone into the fetal position in the corner. He’s just going to use the phone to call an ambulance, okay? Mike probably needs to be Baker-acted, as a danger to himself and others. Barry’s mother starts toward Barry’s room. The laughter has taken on a hysterical quality. You aren’t supposed to hear this until Armageddon. Their energy sheds its character as laughter and weaves into a terrible humming, ominous, like an approaching swarm of killer bees.

“It’s best if you don’t go in there, Marsha. Mike’s already freaking out. More people watching will only make him crazier.”

She pauses, listens and asks, “Tell me. What is going on in there?”

“Autumn got freaked out and peed her pants. Joanna couldn’t stop laughing and it made everyone laugh.”

Ed calls 911. After, he tells Barry’s mom, “They’ll be here in a few minutes. I’m going to go back in there now and make sure Mike’s okay.”

He slips back in. “Everyone’s favorite person is back,” Ed chirps. Mike’s still sniveling, getting dressed. Ed should have let Barry’s mom come in. He’d have loved her to see Mike naked.

Think of the devil… No sooner does Ed think about Barry’s mom, she opens the door. She’s decided her presence carries more good than harm. “Are you okay, Michael?”

She opens the door in time to see Mike zip his fly. Mike’s still shirtless. Ed would have preferred Mike nakeder, but this is okay. It verifies his story well enough.

“I’m fine,” Mike mutters, squeezing past Barry’s mom and out the door. She follows him asking concerned questions. Barry’s mom is so nosey. Ed shuts the door behind her.

“In a second,” Ed says, “the girls and I are heading back to my apartment. You should leave too, so you don’t have to talk about Mike hitting himself and stripping. Let’s avoid Barry’s mom and Mike as we slip out.”

It’s amazing. Barry’s mom is so fixated on Mike she doesn’t notice five people sneak out. Sneak out, they do! When 911-services arrive and want their statements, not a soul is found in Barry’s room. Of course it’s not souls police look for; it’s bodies. No bodies remain either.

The kids enjoy burning their retinas. It’s a group experience that bonds them. It really is great being friends with girls. You can have so much fun. Barry and Greg give the girls their divided unattention. Ignoring them is fun. It’s nice just having them in the background.

Walking to Ed’s apartment from Barry’s house in the too-bright sunlight reminds Joanna of the first time she dosed. Thinking about it, she relives the excitement, associating it with this current trip. She’s really excited about their destination and her enthusiasm proves contagious.

Now, when Ed suggested Barry and Mike leave too, he never actually suggested the guys come with him and the girls to his apartment. That seems to have been implied, however, and Ed isn’t overly concerned with setting things straight. For one, it’s better for him to stay in control of what everyone hears. Last thing either need is to run into a teacher or parent. Ed smiles thinking this. It’s better Ed keep them too, so he can instill good ideas in their minds. He might as well not have to trade booze for powder anymore. Let Barry share it for free. Also, let’s get the alcohol out of a minor’s bedroom when the police are coming.

Perma-grin plasters Joanna’s face. She’s really happy. Like her enthusiasm, her smile is contagious. You’re hit with it, you smile back. Joanna has everybody smiling, even Ed. But the buzzing in her ears has become ringing. It’s increasingly difficult to concentrate. Her vision not just over-bright, also blurs with tears. All she wants is to be held in the dark somewhere safe.

Ed’s room. This is the dark at the end of her sunshine. It will be dark in Ed’s room, and air conditioned. Sunrise, Florida sucks in the summertime, and doesn’t it always seem to be summertime in Florida? Joanna can’t wait to be in Ed’s room. She’ll strip off her sweaty clothes and cuddle in A/C. It’s as good an idea as any. It becomes harder to think. Thinking too hard makes the ringing louder, drowning out all thought. Not that her thoughts really matter. Every idea is equal, with no idea more important than any other. No idea really stands out. Thinking makes it harder to think. Joanna empties her mind, throwing thoughts back as fast as they yank her hook. She doesn’t want to look at them. Ignorance really is better. It’s better not to think. Joanna keeps pace, grinning like a silly bimbo. Better to just think less. Better to just let others think. Better to be a plaything. A girlfriend too, though Joanna isn’t trying to discern the differences. She’ll just do what others say, grateful for their direction, compliant without hesitation. Her smile and excitement require no deep thought, and add a rich submodality to her plan of submission. Whatever complying entails, Joanna looks forward to it. It’s going to be fun. Really fun. Compliance-fun. These words bond together in her mind like hydrogen, so that Joanna won’t ever think one without conjuring the other. Compliance is fun. Compliance will be fun. It’s fun to comply. Joanna eagerly awaits instruction, and with that puppy-love expression, looks every bit as delectable as a ripe cherry. Autumn has that look too. Ed recalls how wonderful they looked eating each other.

Joanna suddenly and without provocation says, “Play with me.”

She is a plaything. “Play with me,” she says again, to no one in particular. “Play with me, play with me, play with me,” Joanna repeats, in a voice barely even a whisper. When Autumn glances over, Joanna repeats herself louder, making direct eye contact. “Play with me.”

Autumn appears beside her, massaging all over Joanna’s body. When Joanna repeats herself yet again, everyone notices. “Play with me,” Joanna says.

She doesn’t need to ask again. Barry and Greg surround her, and four new hands join Autumn’s. Joanna’s in ecstasy. Ed watches, not exactly sure what started Joanna repeating this out of the blue. “Play with me,” she says to Ed, the only one on the sidewalk not molesting her.

“Keep looking forward to it,” Ed tells her, reining in control. “We’ll play beyond your wildest dreams when we get to my apartment.”

“Let’s go,” she says. The troop continues in that direction, slower now that they’re playing with Joanna and trying to walk at the same time. Since getting mind controlled last week, Joanna has become sluttier than any other girl at Piper High. Joanna is a plaything. She loves being played with.

Her brain de-organizes as the drug to make her recognize good ideas seeps into the deepest, softest core of her subconscious. This place has been stable and trustworthy as long as it’s been operational. It records and organizes associations, but is now loosely the consistency of taffy. Joanna’s most recent associations – closest to the surface – dislodge first. Her companions names are here, but no longer are associations specific. She is everyone’s girlfriend, everyone’s plaything, everybody in the world. More happens too. Words used less often decapitate from their definitions, so that when talking, she might speak right up until she needs to use a word she thinks exists. Joanna won’t recall. This happens to everyone here and there, but Joanna experiences large databases of her vocabulary severed and recycled at once. She consciously feels this, herself dumbing down. She’ll still know what she knew, sort of. But she’ll sound like an idiot whenever she tries to talk. She’ll be in the middle of explaining something and stop mid-sentence, completely forgetting her point. She’ll listen when someone talks smart to her, sprinkling his sentences with words she doesn’t know. Joanna can nod and pretend to understand, but really, how long before she trips herself up? Better yet, she should come clean, ask what this or that word means and not worry about others’ opinions of her. She’ll ask them to explain words they think are simple, words they can’t believe she’s lived her whole life and not picked up. She’ll probably get confused every five words or so. Will people want to protect her and take her under their wing? Will they play with her? Joanna thinks they will if she looks pretty, if she makes sure she’s fun.

I will, Joanna vows. Ignorance makes her extra-certain of the things she does know. She has the determination most really intelligent people lack.

(If I had this kind of determination, I’d be the happiest guy in this world. I’d have anything I wanted. Maybe you’re not like this. Well, then, let me tell you how desperate it feels to know why you’re a fuck-up and still be incapable of managing your attention. I have every other quality—cognitive, psychic and athletic – to achieve success at anything. I have never found something I couldn’t do, and yet the accomplishments I really want to achieve require effort I can’t herd. It feels hopeless and disgusting, and I’m determined to change, even if it means REALLY having to change.)

If there’s anything Joanna isn’t, it’s hopeless. Joanna, despite some obvious confusion flinging apart her psyche, is completely sure everything will turn out beautifully. The universe protects her. A week ago, Joanna was interested in politics. She read the Sun-Sentinel editorials every morning during those last minutes before leaving to catch the bus. Joanna had opinions, and was beginning to decide which Democrat to vote for in the first-ever election she could legally vote. Kucinich was her favorite, but Dean had more momentum. George Bush was a monster and had to be stopped. It amazed her how ignorant people were about it. Like they were hypnotized. She’d read a Doonesbury cartoon which echoed her own thoughts perfectly, about how a whopping 69% of people still thought Iraq was responsible for the murders on 9-11. Before, the thought of this had made Joanna despair. Like when she thought about the days after 9-11. Every American plane ordered to stay grounded, yet President-By-Coup Bush gives special permission for a Saudi plane to fly several members of the Bin Laden family to Paris to prevent proper interrogation. This should have been on the front page of every newspaper in the world. A week ago, Joanna felt extremely frustrated, like everyone else didn’t care, or were morons.

Who’s the moron now? Joanna remembers the people around her being stupid for some reason, but no longer understands why well enough to continue holding judgment. If fact, since being outthought by everyone, if only in her head, Joanna wonders if maybe they weren’t right all along. Maybe she never understood what was really going on. Joanna has a harder, harder time remembering ever being smart. When she thinks back, it seems more believable that she was only acting smart. Playing. Joanna puts her faith in others now that she’s dumb. She fleetingly remembers others being wrong a lot, but that doesn’t matter. The most ignorant among them still outthinks her as she is now. She trusts them, and faith comes easy. She lacked it before, but has it now. Everything will work out fine because the universe ordains it. Joanna loses all urge to vote. She becomes like those other fucking idiots who think voting doesn’t matter. She becomes completely complacent that whoever’s in charge is taking care, and in return, that person (me) gives her colon cancer.

Don’t be like Joanna. Vote.

Meanwhile, the ringing in her ears gets louder. It affects her equilibrium, making Joanna woozy and nauseous. She’s going to fall down, and those three pairs of hands aren’t helping her balance, though she supposes they’ll catch her if she falls, which shortly after thinking about, she does.

They catch her, not so much an act of catching as supporting whenever Joanna falls clumsily in their direction. It gets harder to stay on her feet. Joanna wants to collapse, yet is driven to keep walking to Ed’s apartment.

She’s definitely overheated now. Her face is cold and clammy. Breathing makes her more nauseous. Joanna stumbles, this time catching onto Greg’s shoulders to avoid the sidewalk. Greg lowers her down and everyone crowds her.

“Are you okay?” Barry asks, which suddenly starts Joanna thinking, maybe I’m not. This thought becomes harder, harder to ignore. Ed rescues her. He tells her, “You’re fine, Joanna. Just relax a few minutes and catch your breath.”

She slows her breathing, more relaxed, taking nice deep breathes, letting herself relax. She’s sitting down, so isn’t going to fall. There’s nothing to worry about. She can just breathe easy and relax.

Joanna feels like falling asleep, yet remains completely aware of what Ed says. It feels better concentrating on Ed’s voice, to focus on it to the exclusion of every other stimuli. She fixates on Ed’s voice as he says, “Relax.”

“In another minute,” Ed says, “we’re going to help you stand on your own two feet and take some nice, easy steps together. There’s no rush. We’re going to take one nice and easy step, then another, holding hands, feeling very comfortable, very relaxed.”

This is inspired from www.fastseduction.com, a free site teaching basics of hypnosis, NLP and seduction techniques. Ed’s been online all week (when he wasn’t fucking Joanna), eager to discover more mind control techniques to get him laid. Ed is a Scorpio.

Joanna is a compliant hypnotic subject, very responsive. It’s impossible to know how good Ed really is at this. I mean, Joanna is on a really hard, mind-twisting drug. Sure, brains normally manufacture it to evaluate ideas, yet Joanna is on one fucking elephant size of a dose. Except for CIA mind control experiments, no human brain ever received so much at once. Joanna is zombified, like zombies you might notice mingling at a Haitian market. A playful, rambunctious expression stimulates her eyes and mouth. Joanna must be playing out a role. It fixates her. Somewhere in her mind, she learns lessons – becomes a whole new person. You and I dream of encountering lessons like this, seeds of enlightenment to evolve us in some way we hope has meaning. Yet, wherever that is for Joanna, it’s miles from the nearest other person. Joanna is in a world all her own.

How do the others respond? They’re all pretty relaxed, considering. They touch Joanna occasionally, a simple run of fingers through her hair or ass caress. Nothing meant to impede balance or concentration. Compared to the attention Joanna received right before collapsing, these are hardly caresses at all.

Ed wonders what he’s gotten into. He’s the only one really thinking, you know, like how you and I still think. These others are in Na-na land. Joanna’s clearly having an extreme reaction to the drug, acting crazy. Only Ed seems aware of this. How long till this shit wears off?

Will there be permanent damage?

Joanna thinks so, and already strategizes her portrayal of vulnerability so as to encourage charity. Joanna will look pretty. Be sweet. Fun. She’s fun. Pleasing. Joanna wants to please. Child-like, cute and bubbly. Joanna imagines acting this way. This new version of herself, amidst muck which had been her subconscious, binds with her memory of rubbing up against Barry in his room. They’d been dressed, but it was hot. She’d liked it. It was fun, more fun than making D&D characters. Sucking his dick was fun too, especially the power it gave her over him. Joanna was a proud girl when she had power over someone smart. She loved fucking too. She would have preferred more, but Ed came and distracted Barry. Joanna will tease, suck and fuck to have fun. That will be fun. I want to be fun. It’s fun to tease and suck and fuck. Joanna giggles. She doesn’t need to remember all those hard words. She can be fun instead. It would take too long to learn all those hard words again, but Joanna will learn to tease and suck and fuck. That’s what she really wants. She’ll learn fast, and if she’s good at looking pretty, teasing, sucking and fucking, a very certain neural cluster assures her, knowing lots of words will never matter again.

Joanna becomes a bimbo, a silly little bimbo. She’ll be a really good plaything. She’s sure of it. All she has to do is look pretty, be friendly, eager to please, and like fun. What’s not to like about fun? She’s fun because she loves to tease, suck and fuck. Joanna needs others who will control her, others better taking care of… everything. Taking care of her. Joanna wants to be taken care of. She needs to make men and women want her around. She’s a fun girl. She needs to tease and suck and fuck.

Her description of herself now is a pretty secure match for her definition of bimbo. Joanna discovers thinking bimbo is easier than remembering the qualities themselves. A picture of herself as a bimbo sticks in her head like a thumbtack holding other pictures of bimbos in a stack. Her recollections of other bimbos become increasingly familiar, increasingly inseparable from her visualization of herself. The result is a blurry photograph of Joanna. All you can see is her hair and clothes and heavier shades of make-up. She giggles, trying to sound like a bimbo. It feels good. Giggling feels so good. Giggling is fun. Remembering how good giggling feels, Joanna giggles again. Bimbo humor, Joanna thinks, but a pothole in her vocabulary prevents her understanding what that means. She knows it’s funny, but gets confused trying to piece together why. That’s okay. She knows it is. Being fun is all that matters.

Autumn reads Joanna’s mind, insofar as she understands what Joanna’s going through. It wasn’t long ago she underwent a similar transformation, redefining herself as a whore. Not that this is as drastic as losing your ability to string together complete sentences. Autumn knows what identity uncertainty is like, but lacks true understanding of Joanna’s cognitive collapse. Lots of people emphasize. They’re a little telepathic, a little over imaginative. But let’s face it. Until you’ve felt your own mind fall apart, becoming so open to suggestion you can’t even pick a restaurant when you go out to eat, it doesn’t matter if you’re psychic, imaginative or empathic; you still don’t know how this feels. Good ideas have lost preferential value, but cheap as they’ve become, her brain still needs to let one idea assimilate and re-evaluate at a time. Autumn understands what it’s like to be hit with ten ideas at once. Some make more impact than others, which knocks you off balance. Minds need a comfortable pace rendered at this caliber. Too much too soon, they collapse.

Autumn is a girl, which gives her two bitch chromosomes, enough for twice the bitchstincts. A ruthless pair of XXs extinguish Autumn’s follower instinct like a use-served candle. Autumn’s instincts override her values. In Joanna’s current state, her young friend is a blank slate, good for simple orders only. Those eyes though… Joanna’s crazy, redneck eyes have the stamina of a movie monster. Whatever task you lock her on, Joanna will kill herself doing it. This is just so intensely clear.

Autumn’s considers Joanna’s helpless situation. Autumn has never seen anyone look more like a plaything than Joanna does now.

Barry and Greg notice Joanna too. Their Y-chromosomes make them sympathetic to a girl in distress. Consequentially, each feels drives to get her alone, isolate her from danger and be tender to her. The idea-acids make them cocky too, bypassing any concern about how she’ll be tomorrow. Everything is possible, dangling within reach like a baited hook. The universe will be just fine. Good ideas stream inexhaustible.

Sheltering Joanna is such a good idea, the boys ache for it. Yet, desire to hurry to Ed’s apartment preempts. The thought of a vulnerable Joanna flickers in their minds, so real, you can smell the wax. It’s okay to fantasize, so they fantasize. It’s okay to think so long as you control your body. The daydream of having Joanna alone rewinds to the beginning. This second presentation includes features absent from the original viewing: Joanna as a living fuckdoll.

Of course, using Joanna for pleasure becomes the next great idea, although it lacks necessary criteria for implementation. See, no plan connects being alone with Joanna to what’s happening now. No immediacy. It seems like a good idea, a chance to jump at if opportunity ever presents. But without a plan to make it happen, it’s just something each boy longs for passionately. Just like before their minds were pried open and exposed to Ed’s oily fingerprints.

The boys are bound by an invisible contract with polite society, not to behave badly outside their heads. This commitment prevents their taking what they want, meaning Joanna. They respect her too much. They respect the opinions of others too. Instead of respect being a gift for worthy individuals, Barry and Greg respect what others think merely for being born human. Do they consciously respect opinions or are they simply behaving like teenagers, trying to conform? I’ll tell you one thing. Many shy people only think they care what other people think. Barry and Greg are shy. Secretly, both believe a more clever person would abscond with the girl, and that everyone would envy his machismo. Barry and Greg wish they were confident like this. The more they wish, the less they are. Remember this. If your brain chemicals are ever out of control, don’t make the same mistake they did. Don’t wish.

The more they wish, the less they are. Far from granting confidence, wishing only highlights their wussiness. This change becomes part of the new Barry and Greg, their memories emphasizing experiences which support this identity, dimming down memories which were brightest before. Existing experiences reinterpret with timid, wussy expectations.

This happens to you too, if you’re in the Alpha state now reading this, which you may very well be. Can you think of two times you wished you were braver? Of course you can. You already did. Can you remember the stupid things you used to tell yourself so you could muster your tiny acorn of self-esteem? With me, I remember being proud of my super-fast running ability. I could outrun any bully. I hate that about my childhood. Do you remember being wimpier?

Imagine forgetting the experiences that hardened you since then. Imagine still being happy you’re such a super-fast runner. Imagine being proud of your ability to scope chicks without them noticing your attention. Imagine Barry and Greg and yourself as dorks, not without wonderful qualities, but inept at behaving smoothly. Greg snatches his hand back an inch before it squeezes Joanna’s ass. Barry, too busy watching this to keep track of his feet, trips over them. He catches himself, and instead of pretending like nothing happened, asks Ed, “Did you just see me trip over my own feet? Man, that was funny…”

“I saw you,” Greg says, lying just to lie, as if lying makes him cooler. He admits after, “I didn’t see you. I was falling over my own feet pretending like I was going to touch Joanna’s butt.” Another lie. He wasn’t tripping. This lie is to seem more alike with Barry, so Barry will like him more. Greg wants to be liked. His ability to make friends is something he’s proud of. Also, keeping a cool temper, and being careful instead of rushing into things.

Autumn makes the first move on Joanna’s obviously weakened will. Any compassion she had disappears, proving one’s inner nature will override learned values. Autumn infiltrates Joanna like demonic possession. Autumn tells her, “You like to be my bitch. You’re my pussy-licking bitch slave.”

Autumn has dominant thoughts in her subconscious from reading erotic novels with her boyfriend, their alternative to watching porn every night. Naked in his big chair, her sitting on his lap, they often take turns reading dirty books. Autumn reads like a phone sex operator, which is how she speaks to Joanna. If we could graphic equalize our memories for sound, it’s the kind of file you’d train your subconscious to play every time you came, to make you cum harder.

You like to be my bitch. You’re my pussy-licking bitch slave.

You’d train yourself to hear it every time you needed motivation because you know you’d do anything that voice told you.

Autumn sounds purry, throaty—think Renee Zellweger in Jerry McGuire. It’s a fact, not a command. Joanna’s ears hear the difference.

Licking Autumn’s pussy excites Joanna, being Autumn’s bitch, her pussy-licking bitch slave. Joanna wants this like all the boys want to get her alone, and lick Autumn’s pussy. Licking Autumn’s pussy and getting Joanna alone, these daydreams circulate among their psychic community, desires dangling in front of them like carrots on fishing rods, anticipating Ed’s apartment.

But Autumn isn’t satisfied. Right before arriving at Ed’s apartment, she proceeds telling Joanna one more devious thing:

“From now on you have no family to hold you back.”

This isn’t out of the blue, not for Autumn. Absence of family is an issue Autumn’s dwelt on for months, ever since moving out of her parents’ house to live with Tommy. Her hardcore freak parents told her if she moved in with that disrespecting pagan she should consider she didn’t have a family anymore.

She chose him over parents who would give their adult daughter such an ultimatum.

This lack of family is a curse, like dogshit in the grooves of your sneaker. Autumn misses her parents and sister. Also, she fears getting out of hand. Autumn is less extreme in her values as her parents, but still brainwashed. Her parents had 18 years to accomplish a thorough job. The more kinky Autumn becomes with her boyfriend, the more she works herself neurotic about the deviant path of her descent.

Autumn and her boyfriend love each other, and their lovemaking reflects it. They feel comfortable around each other too, like they can tell each other anything. This is a recipe for hot sex. Hot, creative sex. What started with Tommy bringing home rose petals to pour upon the bedspread became increasingly debauch, however. It was all meant as play, not really humiliation, but in addition to reading dirty stories, they also started acting them out.

Autumn developed a taste for anal sex. So did poor, open-minded Tommy, courtesy of a flexible strap-on. Many times, Tommy came on her face. They talked dirty to each other, sometimes including spankings and bondage.

It’s always the quiet girls you never suspect.

But her parents’ lifelong instruction makes Autumn’s superego louder after each time she cums. She tells herself what a slut she is, a judgment which leads her to climax, but afterward leaves her feeling spiritually vacant. A freshman psychology student at the local community college, Autumn is smart enough to know her parents are the source of her guilt. How she resents them for this! She thinks if she can ever truly get them out of her head, she probably will become a total slut, as she rebels against everything they value. She’ll fuck and suck and glorify dicks in her ass. She’ll probably star in pornographic movies, each weight her parents laid on her shoulders discarded sin by sin until she’s free and they’re buried.

Autumn sees this possible future, and beyond. Two things could happen. She might continue degrading herself forever in an increasingly downward spiral until she kills herself with drugs or AIDS. Or she might panic, returning to her last sane moment – or at least last virgin moment, and become as fanatical as her parents.

Either future scares her. Autumn needs moderation, but the settling point hasn’t arrived for her and Tommy yet. New extremes are embraced, and then repeated till they lose their excitability. Lately, they’ve been talking about trying asphyxiation. Autumn isn’t sure she wants this, but the thing is, she does. The more “bad” they are, the more excited Autumn gets. It isn’t Tommy but her who’s corrupting them both, like Eve and the apple. Autumn put that fantasy in Tommy’s head, of watching her turn purple.

Hope of thwarting her parents’ zealousness compels Autumn, but a deep-seated desire not to shame them keeps her most extreme impulses checked. She’s pulled both ways, with sluttiest winning inches at a time. Autumn wonders lately, what if her parents suddenly vamoosed? When Autumn pictures this, she visualizes it like a game of tug-o-war. Her parents let go. Off she flies to the slutty side. It’s Autumn’s favorite fantasy to imagine how slutty she’ll end up.

But it isn’t her parents holding the rope, it’s her. They let go last year, so it’s Autumn afraid to let go of them.

When Autumn tells Joanna to forget her family, she removes part of the wall which supports Joanna’s morals. So many things we do because we’re afraid of our parents being disappointed in us, even when we’re not thinking it. If Joanna forgets her family, she’ll have no reason to stand up straight, brush her teeth before bed and hold back from her most perverted fantasies. Autumn did Joanna a favor, from her way of thinking. She wishes she could forget her own parents. She wishes she could live superego-free.

Tepid to become her sluttiest self, Autumn still longs to see such aspirations produced, even if it has to be Joanna.

“Your family is better off forgotten,” Autumn says. “It feels better to forget them.”

Joanna forgets then, not entirely – suppression not repression. She doesn’t forget, but makes conscious effort to not think about them. This is easy. All Joanna has to do is focus on her senses instead. Let her mind not think.

Isn’t this already happening though?

Joanna stops thinking even more. She becomes more interested in ogling friends she wants to play with. She focuses on the now.

She reaches into the darkness for her last coherent thought, whatever she was thinking before she thought of, then stopped thinking of her family.

You’re my pussy-licking bitch slave.

This new identity associates with Joanna’s post-family life. Her memories fuzzify. Memories from childhood are completely dumped. In the gaps seeps Pussy-Licking Bitch Slave. It becomes so that wherever Joanna looks inside herself, Pussy-Licking Bitch Slave is what she sees. The deepest soul-searching encounters this identity. Joanna imagines vague impressions of herself as a Pussy-Licking Bitch Slave. She licked Autumn’s pussy earlier, so was a Pussy-Licking Bitch Slave then. This indefinite visualization gives reality more flexibility. Joanna’s grasp of her new identity is left way open to interpretation.

Some things aren’t vague. There’s nothing vague about Pussy-Licking. It means you lick pussy. Joanna licks pussy. And she’s a slave. Joanna associates slavery and licking pussy. She doesn’t understand bitch. She reviews her identity without it to compare the difference.

Slave sounds more submissive. Bitch slave has other meanings. Joanna is bitchy. She imagines that: bitchy, but fun. Bitch also means female dog, which isn’t something Joanna takes literally. Bitch is someone who can be treated like a dog. They all seem like great ideas.

Joanna will lick pussy, act snide and accept canine treatment from her masters. It even makes sense to her how acting bitchy will make it more fun for them to put her in her place. Joanna wants to be fun. She wants to lick pussy. Be put in her place.

Autumn feels euphoria being so devious and clever. It’s great that Joanna has no family. Won’t it make life easier, not having to worry about them being ashamed or disapproving of you?

Not having a family… It’s strange that comfort being there, then suddenly – Gone! Object permanency lapses; the times Mommy came when you cried disconnect from your psyche. Erickson’s development stage of Trust vs. Mistrust switches to the latter, like a train track switching, diverting every subsequent experience. Joanna’s life moves in a new direction. Joanna remembers making a decision not to care. It’s a real memory, but amidst her current decision making process, is pulled out of context, held high and fashioned into a flag. Joanna doesn’t care if people come or go. It’s no big deal. She’ll be a pussy-licking bitch slave to anyone who wants her.

Joanna remembers earlier at Ed’s when she ate Autumn’s pussy. She tries to recall what prompted that, and decides it was because she’s a pussy-licking bitch slave. It makes as much sense as anything.

Joanna gives Autumn that I-WANT-YOU look. Autumn raises her eyebrows in return, smirking, like saying Of Course you do.

Autumn’s pussy does get wet thinking about it. She thinks about humping Tommy’s face when he eats her out. He’s such a good boy how even though there’s no way it could possibly be comfortable, he never stops. That good boy suddenly becomes Joanna. It’s her face she’s humping and the thought sends ripples into Autumn’s pink parts.

They arrive at Ed’s apartment, and Ed lets them in. He locks the door behind them.

Everybody except Ed starts to get naked. It’s automatic for them and takes Ed a few seconds to catch up. Ed gets naked too.

Barry and Greg giggle at seeing two naked girls, their inner dorkiness in full expression. It’s Joanna both boys ogle, however.

Autumn sits on Ed’s couch and spreads her legs. Joanna, her little pussy-licking bitch slave scurries over and begins. She’s an energetic little slut, lapping away like a dog finally given water after all afternoon staring at an empty dish. Joanna looks ready to lick Autumn’s pussy clean off, slurping away all trace of stubble, slit and clit until just a smooth expanse of skin remains.

“Look at her go,” Greg whispers. He’s in awe. “Joanna’s got such energy…”

She certainly does. They could wire the television and living room lights to her tongue. Joanna would probably power the whole building. Every now and then, Joanna moves so that the guys see Autumn’s pussy. It’s like that porn star Ember’s pussy, plump and short. If you don’t know who Ember is, check her out on Kazaa Lite. Although lacking as an actress, that girl has got the most suckable pussy on the goddamn planet. Joanna’s really savoring a fantastic opportunity.

Ed’s hard watching them. So are Barry and Greg. Ed considers fucking Joanna from behind. He’s the only one who knows from experience how terrific that feels, having been Joanna’s only man. But Barry and Greg are here. It’s safer that way, but Ed feels uncomfortable with them watching. He thinks they’d be checking out his ass.

It kills Ed to not get what he wants, but Ed’s got a Y-chromosome. He’s a problem solver. He tells Barry and Greg, “You guys just realized how important your being best friends means to you. Go into the other room and tell each other about it.”

Oh, Barry and Greg instantly fascinate each other. They lose interest in Joanna. They lose interest in everything except each other.

Ed sits on his knees behind Joanna. He holds her hips, feeling them in his hands. What a wonderful feeling. Now he takes his fingers and touches Joanna’s pussy. He’s seeing if she’s wet. She’s wet. Ed spits on his hand and rubs it all over his dick, to make it wet. His dick slides into her easily. When Ed starts thrusting, Joanna responds by writhing her tight ass against his cock. He takes her hips again to keep his balance, and goes maniac, slamming into her again and again. The speed of Joanna’s licking accelerates.

Joanna’s mind drifts, licking Autumn’s perfect pussy and being fucked. Her eyes close and the space inside her closed eyelids seems like a bottomless black pit. Joanna floats there where it’s warm. This must be how a sensory-deprivation chamber feels, she thinks, but the truth is, Joanna’s experiencing plenty of sensation. Tactile sensation is all she feels, though there are two co-existing forms experiencing it. On the outside, Autumn’s pussy and Ed’s dick entertain both ends of Joanna’s water filtration route, maybe not as long as the human GI track, but longer than you’d think. Meanwhile, in her mind, Joanna floats in outer space. This universe inside her is endless in every direction, warm and safe. In this place, Joanna feels warm and comfortable, safe and relaxed. She can’t even summon energy to look up when there’s a sharp, loud knock at the front door.

When Ed glances out, he sees Mike avoided being Baker-acted. Mike is here, and Danny’s with him. Ed’s avoided Danny since stealing Joanna from him. It surprised him Danny never showed up at his apartment. Until now. Some third guy is with them too. This may be the famous Tommy whom Autumn kept talking about before they drugged her ass and brought out her kink potential.

Ed doesn’t realize how cooped up Autumn’s kink potential still is. She’s acting kinkier than he’s seen her act, perhaps kinkier than she usually allows herself to behave, but plenty more perversion waits anxious to be tapped. If it were oil, Bush would forget all about Iraq and the Artic Wildlife Refuge. If it were oil, Bush would be drilling into Autumn or sending every available troop to subdue her for this purpose.

Thank God for Autumn perversion isn’t oil, though she certainly would improve morale for the troops.

Tell me your secrets.