Femdom Mind Control Flash Fiction
by S.B.
Family Reunion
After an exhausting double shift at the hospital, one of the last things Alan expected to see when he got home was his wife, Margaret, sitting on the couch, waiting for him with a teasing smile on her lips. The very last thing that crossed his mind was finding her surrounded by all the other women in her side of the family from her younger sister, Abby, whose predilection for tight leather mini-skirts always made him feel uncomfortable when she was around, to their mother, Vanessa, the most fervent Catholic devout he had ever met and one he loathed spending time alone with. Hell, even Pauline, the distant Aussie cousin he had only met once at a Christmas party ages ago was there, voracious eyes locked on his manhood. Family reunions were the worst. Unexpected ones, nightmares ready to be unleashed.
“Hey,” he muttered, his tired voice sounding more dismissive than he wanted. “What’s going on?”
“Slave,” Margaret replied, legs crossed in a display of power. “Lay down your jacket and drop to your knees before me right now.”
“S-slave?” He choked. “Marge, what are you doing? That pet name is for us and us alone.”
“I don’t want to repeat myself,” she rolled her eyes. “On. Your. Knees.”
“Yes, Mistress,” he conceded despite not being pleased at all with the idea of a public scene. They would have to talk it out after it was done but, for the moment, it was best to play along, and not risk embarrassing her. She was too feisty when she was mad, much more than he could handle on his own.
“There you go, back in your proper place,” she continued. “You’re a very good boy, Alan, and an even better servant when you put your heart into it, which is why we’ve decided it was finally time for you to learn the truth.”
“Hmmm... okay... but the truth about what?”
“Isn’t it obvious? It’s all fun and games until your wife says it’s no game at all…” Abby chuckled. “And don’t you dare look up at my skirt, got it?”
“Ours has always been a family of dominant women,” Vanessa intervened. “and true religion is the one that celebrates this. It’s been a while since we’ve started monitoring your progresses in service to your wife and now, we think you’re ready. Ready for the final conversion.”
“And what an honor it is!” Margaret clapped her hands with glee. “I hope you’re feeling as ecstatic as I am.”
Alan shook his head, unsure of what to say next. What a weird setup! As he tried to stand up, Pauline came at him and pushed him down to the floor again. Head hanging low, he said:
“Ecstatic? No, I’m... I don’t know what I am. What is this? An elaborate prank? Because I’m way too tired to have you ladies have fun at my expense so if you don’t mind, I’m going to take a shower and then hit the sack.”
“Oh? He doesn’t believe us...” Abby noted.
“They never do, remember? Is the drink ready?”
“Of course.”
It was only then he noticed the small table behind them, centered by a black bowl with an effervescent liquid within.
“Margaret, I think you should be the one to do the honors,” Pauline said.
“My pleasure,” Margaret reached for the bowl. “Slave, listen to my voice. This is no prank. For countless generations, the Powell women have been conquering and taming the males in their lives through various forms of irresistible persuasion. Some have used covert hypnosis and brainwashing techniques, others have resorted to more forceful tactics that included sleep deprivation, isolation chambers, and constant whipping. Drugs are my favorite though and we’ve concocted a special recipe just for you. The moment you drink this, you’ll realize just how much you need to be a slave for the rest of your life. It is your purpose after all, and one shouldn’t fight their purpose to live. Don’t do it. Just... let go. Do it for me. Obey me and feel everlasting bliss.”
“You’re out of your mind, Marge!”
“No, but it’s time for you to lose yours for good.”
All the women rushed to grab him with Abby making sure his mouth was wide open. The first drop was bitter, the second more sweet than honey and the remaining ones a narcotic so powerful his brain snapped in half. As his vision declined, impressions of pig masks, butt-plugs, and cock cages took over, the dehumanized properties of this cursed family stepping out of the shadows to welcome their new brethren. Family reunions were the best.