The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

July 15, 1999—The beginning-

Ben dreams of Rocketgirl.

Late at night, with his wife sleeping next to him, Ben tosses and turns. In his mind, there is a bank robbery going on. One villain empties out the safe, while another holds a gun on an old lady, his hostage. Ben has his hands raised, but happens to be facing the bank’s front windows.

Over the thug’s shoulder, he sees Rocketgirl outside the bank. She’s here to save him! But she needs a diversion...

“OH!” Ben grabs his chest. “I think I’m having a heart attack!” He yells in his dream.

His body shifts in bed, but he and his wife remain asleep.

In Ben’s dream, the gunman turns, for just a second, but it’s long enough. Someone else grabs the old lady and pulls her away as Rocketgirl comes crashing through the window.

She does a flip, avoiding the gunfire of the now very confused thug. Her red go-go boots connect with his chest. He falls. Ben grabs his gun. A bunch of the bank’s customers race forward to hold the guy down as Ben pulls a broken computer mouse out of his briefcase. He’d been planning to take it back to Radio Shack, but now he has a better use for it.

He ties the thug’s hands together with the mouse’s cord as Rocketgirl captures the one in the bank vault.

He’s a hero.

But more importantly, he’s impressed Rocketgirl.

She comes out of the bank vault, leading the second criminal by her silver lariat. She laughs at Ben’s ingenuity as she ropes the two criminals firmly together. Ben knows she has to get going soon. After all, the police are coming. But Rocketgirl stays around for an extra minute to thank him. She must like him.

“You should get an academy award for that heart attack!” She says.

“You should get an academy award for that costume!” he responds, looking down her blue leotard. Neither it nor the cheerleader-type miniskirt leave much to the imagination. The only thing that does is Rocketgirl’s red and white mask.

“Silly boy,” she says, drawing him close and putting her lips on his...

II.December 8, 1999—

“God damn that Clarissa Dagenfield!” cried Barry Snager, Ph.D.

As relatively young faculty member, Barry Snager, Assistant Professor of Psychology, still liked liked to think of himself as Barry Snager, Ph.D. His Ph.D. was like a little button deep in his very soul that he could press in times of trouble that reminded him of his own self-worth.

He needed it right now.

That castrating bitch in the Theology department had gotten his favorite work study student transferred over to her division, leaving him with a freshman named Alexis, stupid as she was beautiful, to act as his research assistant and help his grad students Wednesday afternoons. Alexis wasn’t bright enough to do much more than be his receptionist. Meg Parkes, his former work-study, was no doubt spending her afternoons researching for Dagenfield’s next book, “Sexual Themes in the Work of John Bustopher.”

Meanwhile Alexis filed her nails and answered the phone in her own sweet time.

“Uh... Mr. Snager?”

Speak of the devil. A lovely face appeared in his doorway.

“That’s Dr. Snager, Alexis.”

“Yeah, well, anyway, there’s a guy here to see you?”

“Who is it, Alexis?”

“Oh,” She put her head back out the door briefly.

“Ben Brenner, from the Computer Science department?”

“Sure, let him in.”

“Come on, in Mr. Brenner!” She said cheerfully.

“That’s Dr. Brenner!” Barry called after her.

Benjamin Brenner was known around campus as a small, nervous man, with a very beautiful wife. Ben and his wife, Sarah, were in the University’s computer science department. Sarah was a good six inches taller than he was, and by all male accounts a babe. However, the worried, balding, man who stood in front of Barry that morning did not seem like the type who could seduce and marry the lady who had become the one the best looking woman at the University of Southern Maryland looked to for fashion advice.

He looked terrified, like a man who had been keeping up a stolid public front, but was about to totally fall apart.

Barry Snager, Ph.D., had known better than to get too close to Ben.

His fellow professor’s less than perfect people skills had annoyed too many people in power, and he had no powerful friends. Yet Barry Snager, Ph.D., held his office door open anyway, closed it gently and led his friend to the love seat. Ben was a man in need, and arrogant and Machiavellian as he might be, Barry Snager, Ph.D., was basically a nice guy.

“Barry? Can I talk to you?” Ben stammered

“Sure, Ben.”

“I went too far!” Ben cried, putting his head in his hands as soon as his rear end touched the seat.

“Ben, what’s the matter?”

“I screwed up. I screwed her up! The only thing wonderful I’ve ever had in whole life! Someone’s going to hurt her, or she’ll hurt herself! Ben seemed about to pull out his hair. Barry Snager, Ph.D. watched, his proud eyebrows creased with worry about his friend. He summoned up what years of psychological training had taught him about people in crisis.

He handed Ben a box of Kleenex.

“Ben, umm, I’m a research psychologist.” Ben took a Kleenex and used it to wipe away the tears that had begun to fall.

“Huh?”

“I’m not a clinical psychologist. I don’t think I can help you...with whatever problem you’re having... I don’t counsel people. I don’t solve problems. I just watch rats having sex.”

“I know, I know. But you’re my friend. You might believe me...when I tell you... what I’ve done...” Ben’s hysterics began again. Maybe talking about it would help him clear his mind?

“Perhaps, you’d better tell me this from the beginning,” said Barry Snager, Ph.D..

III.July 16, 1999—The greatest day of Benjamin Brenner’s life?—

He’d first noticed it in his graduate student, Kelly.

Kelly had never been a bad looking woman. Red hair, deep green Eyes, and a skinny body she often showed off with short skirts. A less secure wife than Sarah would have probably been upset to see her husband working with such an attractive, younger, woman. Still, Ben’s wife always seemed secure about her looks. And her husband.

But now, that point was pretty much moot anyway. For the past three months, Kelly had been on an eating binge. She’d shown up in new outfits as she grew. And whenever she’d come to work, she’d had food with her. Almost always some kind of baked goods.

Nobody thought it was particularly strange for a grad student under stress to have developed a sweet tooth. As her adviser, Sarah Sawyer Brennan had privately thought it a good thing. Nothing like a few pounds to keep the surface oriented boys away and keep Kelly focused on her studies.

It wasJuly 16, 1999, when Ben discovered the program. The computer science professor had just eaten lunch, yet somehow he was still hungry. He remembers thinking that he might he’d go get a dessert in a little while.

He was cleaning up the hard drive on Kelly’s computer when he discovered a file called “talky.com.”

He opened it. The intro screen said it had been written by one of his students, Craig, who had graduated and was now network administrator for the school.

Curious, he gave Craig a call.

“Talky!” Craig said cheerily. “I remember talky. My first attempt at a computer program that would talk, like on Star Trek. I used to play with it on my workstudy computer, when I was off the clock. I wrote it in as part of windows and forgot about it. To think, it’s been running in the background all this time.”

“That’s interesting.” Ben said, fiddling with the controls.”

“Yeah, never could make it work. You can go ahead and erase it.”

“Okay, thanks,” Ben was in a hurry to finish up cleaning the hard drive. He was suddenly in the mood to try the new bakery down the street.

“Too bad.” Craig said wistfully. “It was a neat program. But somehow, I never got it working. Spent a week right before graduation, trying to make it say just one sentence. ‘I LIKE PIE.’ Never did work though.”

“Okay, bye Craig.”

Ben stood up and headed for the bakery without erasing the file. He would finish cleaning off the hard drive when he got back.

Ben Brenner had a Ph.D., and one from Caltech at that. He was a very smart man.

But he was on his second piece of pie before he made the connection.

VI.August 20, 1999—A nice guy-

Everyone’s lives were improving.

The effects were subtle, but they were there. Kelly was back in the gym. I LIKE TO WORK OUT. His advisees were getting their homework in, and fast. I LIKE TO DO MY HOMEWORK AND GET IT IN ON TIME . Alumni donations to the school were up. Nothing too dramatic, but everyone was glad that the department of institutional advancement had been making such good use of the computer generated slide show Professor Brennan had drawn up for alumni weekend. I SHOULD GIVE THEUNIVERSITYOFSOUTHERN MARYLANDA LITTLE EXTRA MONEY. THEY NEED IT.

Sarah was slightly more affectionate to her husband, not that she’d ever been anything but perfect, but still, any lingering doubts she might have had that her husband was the man for her had vanished. I COULD NEVER LOVE ANYONE LIKE I LOVE MY BEN. Sarah Sawyer Brennan was secure. Ben Brennan was not.

It was complicated keeping everything straight. Until Ben came up with a way to keep everyone in line. I LIKE MY COMPUTER. IT’S MINE. I DON’T WANT ANYONE ELSE TO USE IT, AND I DON”T WANT TO USE ANYONE ELSE’S.

He was after all, a very smart man.

VII.October 14, 1999—Dreaming-

But still, Ben Brennan dreams of Rocketgirl.

This time, the evil Robespierre kidnaps Ben and tries to make him hack into the security system of Revelstroke museum. But Ben refuses, so Robespierre orders his men, the Jacobins, to tie Ben up and place him on the guillotine. The blades shines menacingly above him.

But Ben’s okay. Because there is a shout of “Let her go!", and all of the sudden Rocketgirl leaps down from the skylight into the abandoned French silk pie factory Robespierre was using for a hideout.

Within seconds, the Jacobins have her surrounded, but it doesn’t take Rocketgirl long to take care of them. Ben watches in awe as she ties the whole group together and sprays them with Rocket knockout gas.

Robespierre escapes. Of course. No big deal. Rocketgirl will get him next time. Just like in the comics.

Ben could do little more than smile as Rocketgirl walked up to him.

“Are you here to rescue me?” Ben asks, not knowing what else to say to the object of so many nighttime fantasies.

“Yes. Eventually...” She said coyly.

“Eventually?”

“I have the rest of the afternoon free. And you’re not going anywhere until I say so. And since I have you all tied up all ready...” Rocketgirl runs a gloved hand down his crotch...

He knew that lustful expression. He’d seen it before. And Rocketgirl’s curly blond hair was just like...

Ben woke up in a cold sweat. It was the middle of the night. He turned and looked at Sarah, sleeping angelically next to him.

He couldn’t resist any longer.

He had to.

VII.October 17, 1999-The plot thickens-

“Honey?” Ben usually stayed out of Sarah’s home office and she rarely interrupted him in his. But that night she came to visit him, looking like a Goddess in her ice-blue teddy.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“How’s Josh Dean doing in computer science 205?”

“I’ll have to look it up to be sure, but I think he’s doing really well. He’s a smart kid.”

“That’s what Clarissa said.”

“Oh, you had lunch with Clarissa Dagenfield?” Ben asked, absently flipping through his gradebook. “Your main competition for best looking woman at the University.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow, then knocked Ben’s grade book off his lap. She leaned forward, displaying low hanging breasts as she stepped over him until she was straddling him.

She sat down in his lap and began to massage her pussy against his crotch.

“I have no competition,” she said. He ran his hands around her waist and pulled her toward him. She leaned over and kissed him, letting her long blonde hair play across his shirt.

“I don’t know,” Ben said with mock judiciousness, “Clarissa has started wearing mini skirts and awful lot, and those cute little Ally McBeal suits. Maybe you should, you know, dress like that once in awhile.”

“Maybe I should,” Sarah said, leaning back as he played with her breasts “Maybe I’ll even come to school some day dressed like Laura Dandridge”

“Hmm, that would be nice.” Laura Dandridge didn’t have Sarah’s innocent perfection or Clarissa’s icy beauty, but she knew how to dress to emphasize what she had.

Ben ran his hands up to her breasts, gently tweaking her nipples until she moaned.

“Oh, hey, listen, could I borrow some of these?” Sarah picked up the latest edition of the Rocketgirl comic book off of Ben’s desk. She tolerated her husband’s love of comic books, but had never shown an interest before.

“Sure, honey. But I didn’t think you liked comic books.”

“I don’t, really,” Sarah said, “I was just thinking I might go as Rocketgirl to that big Halloween party Alexandra is throwing. She’s invited all the faculty members and coaches.” Sarah was actually both. She taught computer science and coached the college’s small gymnastic team.

“Rocketgirl, huh?” Ben’s voice was casual, but he felt his erection become rock hard.

“What?”

“Well, with that leotard and miniskirt, you’ll give Clarissa competition after all...”

Ben moved his hands between her legs and Sarah started to unbutton his shirt. The grade book lay unopened on the floor. Josh Dean wasn’t actually doing all that well in computer science anymore. He would still pass, probably even with a B, but his attention was on other things. But that, quite literally, is another story...

VIII.October 24, 1999-I LIKE ROCKETGIRL COMICS. I WANT TO READ ALOTOF THEM-

“What do you think of this one, Laura?” Sarah held up a blue spangled leotard. She had hit the mall with Laura Dandridge, the school’s cheerleading coach and the sexiest dresser at the University. Laura had already picked out her Cleopatra costume and was helping Sarah select a proper Rocketgirl leotard.

Needless to say, the scoop neck on Laura’s favorite showed a lot more than the one Sarah had picked out.

“Oh, come on, Sarah” Laura pleaded. “You’ll look so hot in this one. Ben won’t know what to do with himself.”

“Ben never knows what to do with himself.” Sarah said with an affectionate smile.

“How did you and Ben end up together, anyway?”

“Well,” Sarah said, playing with the stretchiness of the leotard. “He makes me laugh.”

Laura shrugged. “I always wondered how someone as gorgeous as you could end up with a guy, so, well...”

“I think he’s cute. Besides, Laura, he DOES have a Ph.D.. He’s really smart and funny and kind. Besides, back in that little office we shared in grad school one day, it occurred to me that I live my life in such an achievement-focused way all the time anyway, that getting a gorgeous man might just be one more thing I felt like I had to do. And doing that would mean giving up Ben.”

“Okay.” Laura said, shrugging. She still didn’t get it. But then, the men she liked most weren’t too focused on good conversation.

“I think I will take the sleazier leotard. All this talk about Ben makes me want to look really good for him.”

“Don’t worry. I’m one queen ofEgyptwho will be no competition.” Laura said with cheerful enviousness. Sarah smiled to herself, remember how she and Ben had come to that same conclusion a week before.

“Okay, you’re lending me a skirt.”

“You can have it. We changed uniform designs. I have a whole bunch of extra. Of the old ones.”

“That’s great! It would Be fun to be able to go as Rocketgirl again. I bought the gogo boots and I’ve got white opera gloves I can dye the same blue as the leotard. And I’ve got the mask.

“I’ve got everything I need to be Cleopatra, except something sexy to wear underneath.”

“Shall we go check out Fredrick’s?”

“Sounds good to me.”

IX.November 12, 1999- I LIKE TO DRESS AS ROCKETGIRL AROUND THE HOUSE

Things had going better than Ben could have possibly anticipated, then suddenly they’d hit a little snag. Sarah had been the hit of the costume party as Rocketgirl, even though some faculty members didn’t know who Rocketgirl was. It floored Ben that they could not even have heard of the object of his fantasy and his worship.

The other object of his fantasy and his worship, Sarah, had enjoyed dressing up as Rocketgirl so much that she wore her Rocketgirl outfit around the house sometimes, but she’d begun to question why she was doing that. She’d even talked of going to a psychiatrist. Having her cured of loving Rocketgirl was the last thing Ben had wanted.

So he’d redone the subliminals. Changed them to: I LIKE MY ROCKETGIRL COSTUME, BUT I SHOULDN’T WEAR IT AROUND THE HOUSE. Then, after Sarah stopped wearing it, he took off the subliminals. Totally. And once Kelly was back in shape, hers went too. Of course, there was nothing wrong with having his students turning in their work on time or getting a little extra out of the rich alums, so those stayed. For now.

Sarah was as perfect as ever, but her Rocketgirl boots sat lonely in the closet.

X.November 24, 1999-The dreams continue-

Rocketgirl was tied spread eagled to a sophisticated looking machine. Behind her, the evil Nucleus and his henchmen, the Electrons, worked rapidly at a machine.

“Soon, Rocketgirl” Nucleus hissed “We will subvert you to our wills. We will make you our slave and you will give yourself over to crime.”

“Never!” Rocketgirl cried. “Someone will save me!”

How Ben had snuck into the room he couldn’t remember. But that wasn’t important. The important thing now was that Rocketgirl was in trouble. And it looked like he alone could save her. Luckily, he had an idea.

He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a disk labeled “talky.” Moving soundlessly, he slipped the disk into an unused computer around the corner from where the Atom gang worked.

CRIME IS BAD. ALL CRIMINALS SHOULD GO TURN THEMSELVES IN. TELL THEM ROCKETGIRL SENT YOU.

He turned the speakers up to top volume. He still couldn’t hear anything, but was aware of the message worming it’s way into his mind, now that he knew what to look for. He ignored the message. Rocketgirl just looked confused.

Nucleus was the first to stop working. He sat up with a start and looked around him. The electrons were still finishing the machine, but they looked like they had a lot on their minds.

“Guys?” Nucleus said. The group gathered in a huddle, then, without another word to Rocketgirl, left the room.

Ben turned off the computer, then stepped out of his hiding place and walked up to Rocketgirl.

“How did you...”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ben said, “Just be glad I was here to rescue you.”

“Oh I am, now if you cold help me with these straps.”

“Not so fast,” Ben said running his hands over her leotard. “I think I owe you one.”

Rocketgirl let out a wanton moan as his hands slipped into her leotard...

Ben awoke.

It had been his third Rocketgirl dream that week.

Sarah lay sleeping next to him. She could be Rocketgirl’s twin.

Sarah’s computer was right downstairs.

He knew what he had to do.

IX.December 8, 1999—I AM ROCKETGIRL-

Ben was confused. He’d made that change to TALKY on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. He’d spent the whole long weekend with Sarah, except for the considerable amount of time she’d been on her computer. There hadn’t really been a change in her at all.

He’d wanted her to start dressing sexy again. She hadn’t. If anything, she’d been dressing even more conservatively. And she’d started going out at night. She didn’t have any afternoon classes, and used to spend that time at home. Now, she was always out for the evening when he came back from school. She wouldn’t get in until very late at night. (You, gentle reader, can probably see where this is going, but deductive reasoning was not Ben’s strong point...)

Maybe she’d found the program, or figured out somehow his obsession with Rocketgirl. Maybe she’d been to upset with him to bring it up to him directly and had just found a lover to relieve the pressure of the idea of what he’d done from being on her all the time.

He was sure that the love of his life was having an affair. But he had to put it out of his mind. He had a class to teach. Even if it was his late afternoon class. Even if Sarah could be with her lover now.

The students were being loud. He hated it when they were loud.

“Guys, quiet down please.”

“Hey Dr. Brenner?”

“Yes, Dave?” Dave Stuart was captain of the football team. Not a bad computer science student, either.

“Did you hear what happened?”

“What?” Ben said, half listening as he flipped through his lecture notes one more time.

“Some chick dressed as Rocketgirl foiled a robbery at Rivers’ Jewelers”

Ben dropped his pen. “Can I see that article?”

“Sure, I’ve got it right here on CNN.com.”

He walked up to Dave, who proudly played him the bank’s security tape footage. It was Sarah. It had to be Sarah. Her gymnastics served her well as she flipped around the bank, beating up the robbers. She even had Rocket knockout gas. God, she was so beautiful. It was no wonder that the criminals couldn’t stop watching her beautiful body long enough to actually fight back.

“Hey, Professor Brenner? Are you okay?” Asked Joyce Childers, head cheerleader.

“No, Joyce, actually, I’m not feeling too well. Um... uh, Dave? Joyce? Josh? Umm... will one of you be in charge for today? Just see that everyone works on their final projects?”

“Yeah, sure, Professor Brennan.” Joyce said.

Ben Brennan stumbled out of the room and down the hallway to his friend Dr. Snager’s office.

XI.December 8, 1999

Barry Snager, Ph.D.. took his pen out of his mouth. He was aware that he was chewing it. Chewing pens was an old habit for Barry, left over from childhood. Barry only ever really seriously chewed pens when he was depressed or worried. And Ben’s story depressed and worried him.

Exhilarated him, too, of course. Oh, there was no denying that. The very idea that his dear colleague could have stumbled on to such a significant breakthrough sent chills down his spine. Perhaps he could be the first to publish on the phenomenon. What a wonderful thing that would be. It could earn him a Nobel Prize, certainly. And theUniversityofSouthern Marylandwould never again have to beg its alumni for crumbs. Its endowment would be the envy of every other small state university in the nation.

But there were consequences to think about. He certainly wouldn’t be able to reveal the whole of Ben’s discovery at once. Just pieces. Maybe a large piece, to get him that Nobel Prize. Or maybe just lots of small ones, to give his university a reputation for being a great focus of psychological research. The possibilities were endless.

“Well?” Ben said.

“Huh?” Barry Snager, Ph.D. snapped back to attention.

“I’ve got to do it.”

“Do what?”

“Get rid of the program. Change Sarah back!”

“Why would you? Has she been hurt, yet?”

“Well, no.”

“I saw that report on the news and I didn’t recognize Sarah. She’s wearing a mask. Do you think other people would?”

“Well, possibly not.”

“And you said that she was dressing conservatively to try and disguise her real identity.”

“Well... yes.”

The door opened without a knock. Alexis stood there.

“Umm... It’s time for me to leave, Mr. Snager.”

“Alexis, it’s DR. Snager.”

“Whatever.”

Alexis turned and breezily marched out of the office. Barry Snager, Ph.D., turned back to his friend. “Ben, those bastards didn’t really have a chance. She’s actually a very good crimefighter. Even the guy who shot at her didn’t even hit within feet of her.”

“True.”

“Ben, how about this? Why don’t you go home right now and rest. When Sarah gets home, talk to her about it. Tell her what happened. Explain. See what she thinks. She often seems a little bored at USM, maybe this excitement is good for her.”

Ben stood up. “That’s good advice.”

“Why, thank you.”

“For a research psychologist.” The two men laughed. Barry Snager, Ph.D., liked Ben a lot more now that Ben was going to make him famous.

Before Ben, left that day, he sat down at his computer and hacked into the psych department, adding programs here and there where it was necessary. Barry Snager, Ph.D. spent awhile typing up an account of what Ben had discovered. But the longer he wrote, the less interested he was in publishing it. Yes, the prestige would be nice, but the social cost would be too great. He resolved to forget that the conversation of that afternoon had ever happened. And by the time he got home that night, he had.

XII. Honey, I’m home...December 15th, 1999.

“Ben!” Sarah’s voice rang through the foyer. She pulled off her mask.

“Yes, dear?” Ben came running out. He was dressed in a soft robe and slippers that he’d tossed on as soon as he heard Sarah’s voice.

“Darling, could you get some antiseptic and a bandage? One of them had a knife, tonight.”

“Oh, God, I knew I shouldn’t...”

“Ben, please. I like what I do. It’s just a little cut on my leg. The boot got a lot more damage than I did.”

Sarah took off her go-go boot as they walked into Ben’s office with the first aid kit. Ben opened a bottle of peroxide and put some on a cloth. He gently cleaned her admittedly small wound and dressed it with a bandage. Sarah sat down on his desk and tried not to wince as the antiseptic stung.

“Darling, I really appreciate this.” She finally said.

“Appreciate what?”

“You being so understanding about me being Rocketgirl.”

“But, sweetheart, you know that I...”

“No, you didn’t. You may have been the means that brought me to being Rocketgirl, but I’ve come to believe that I was always meant to be Rocketgirl.”

He kissed her hand.

“That’s a little convenient, don’t you think?”

“Oh, Ben, when I’m on a rooftop, looking all over the city for crime. Listening to that police scanner. Riding off on that beautiful motorcycle, I’m the happiest I’ve been since, well, since...”

“Yes”

“The day I married you.”

“I’m glad you’re fulfilled.”

“You don’t mind?”

“I hate waiting for you, worried about you. But I figure guilt is the price I pay for all of this. And I get some benefits out of it.”

“Yes?”

Ben slid his hands around her waist, grabbing her butt through her leotard. He pulled Sarah’s ear close to his mouth.

“I get to fuck the woman that every man in the city wants.”

“Oh,” Sarah moaned “that you do.”

Sarah reached around and unsnapped her skirt.

“Oh, God” Ben mumbled, biting at Sarah’s nipples through her leotard. She pulled herself toward him, grinding her crotch against his hard cock. The couple kissed, sliding their tongues together as Ben helped Sarah pull off her leotard.

Has fingers danced across her nipples, making her moan as she fumbled with his belt and slid his pants off.

She got down on her knees, taking his cock in her mouth. He ran his fingers through her hair as she massaged his cock with her mouth. She could taste his precum whenever she squeezed it.

Gasping for air, he pulled his cock out of her mouth and gently pushed her onto he back. He sat up for a moment and just looked at her, naked except for her long, blue gloves.

Ben climbed on top of his tall, beautiful, wife. She spread her legs and ran gloved fingers down his back.

“Can you imagine?” He said, sliding his prick inside her. “I get to fuck Rocketgirl.”

“OH, yes...”

“I always wanted to fuck Rocketgirl...”

“And I get to BE Rocketgirl.” She whispered. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to be Rocketgirl?”

He stopped thrusting for a moment. “How long?” Ben asked.

“Ever since you started to call out her name in your sleep, which by the way, has been always. Do you have any idea how jealous I was? Now fuck me already...”

Wanton moans on a cold winter’s night.

VIII. Epilogue, some questions, and an answer.

And so, husband and wife, reunited and happy, shagging away a December evening. The husband loved Rocketgirl. The wife, perhaps not so secure as she had once appeared, willing to become Rocketgirl to please him.

The only question that remains is what if it was coincidence?

What if Sarah Sawyer Brennan really wanted to be Rocketgirl to please Ben? Perhaps she started to dress like Rocketgirl around the house because she subconsciously noticed it made him happy, then stopped when it seemed to upset him? What if Kelly had left a half-finished snack in the trashcan, and smelling it made Ben hungry? What if she randomly decided to diet right after Ben discovered the program?

What if the alumni were feeling generous? Maybe the economy was good, though maybe not if their graduates were staying on to work for the University.

What if Barry Snager, Ph.D. didn’t really believe his hysterical friend?

What if? Sure, that’s a lot of happy coincidences, but stranger things have happened.

It’s a strange world.

But none of that would explain why all of the sudden, Alexis became the ideal assistant. Barry Snager, Ph.D., found that all of the sudden, his coffee was ready in the morning and any bit of research he or his grad students needed was done quickly and thoroughly. He missed her mini skirts, but he had to concede that the suits she now wore were more professional.

His phone messages were even accurate.

He never lost the intuitive sense that the conversation he’d had with Ben Brennan that Wednesday afternoon had something to do with it, but he couldn’t figure out what.

Oh well, no matter.

“Did you need anything else, Dr. Snager?”

“No, thank you, Alexis, that will do just fine...”