The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Let me start off by saying, I HATED the water. Hated it with a passion. And I’m not talking about the stereotypical black-person-fears-the-water kind of bullshit. Far from it. At the beginning of my life, I actually LIKED the water. My dad was an old navy man, and had read all the studies that said teaching a child to swim while they’re an infant gets them used to the water before they are old enough to fear it. And so my folks did, teaching me how to swim. And, point of fact, in the Boy Scouts, I actually earned a swimming merit badge, having mastered several different swimming strokes. Yes, I can swim. I learned to early on. And if worse came to worse, I could tread water with the best of them.

Of course, that hadn’t stopped me from drowning. Three separate times. Three very severely traumatic times.

The first time... really doesn’t count. I was young, and inexperienced then, and merely swallowed too much water under the surface. My dad luckily fished me out and pumped out the water. The second time, however, was worse. I was much older and more experienced then. Not that it mattered. You see, it doesn’t matter how well you swim. if you get a cramp, if one of the parts of your body used to keep you afloat stops working, then guess what? You stop floating. The third time I was swimming with some friends at the swimming pool at their home, and got my foot stuck in a rope along the bottom of the deep end. All three times I stopped breathing. All three times, I was lucky enough to have someone around that noticed and knew CPR. Drowning once is scary. Drowning twice is terrifying. Drowning three times in one lifetime? Well, suffice it to say, for a while there, I got panic attacks even trying to drink a glass of water.

So when a few of the guys at my work invited me to go on a trip with them up to the Florida keys to try out their new boat, I looked at them as they’d suddenly sprouted an extra head and tentacles. “Really?” I asked Brendan as he and Matt stood by awaiting my answer. “Really? You’re asking me to go out on a boat with you guys? On the ocean?”

“Yeah, so?” Brendan asked, shrugging. “You’re our friend. What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s a boat,” I stated again, as if it should be obvious to the both of them. “On the ocean.“

“Oh, come on, Jack,” Matt replied, rolling his eyes. “It’s gonna be fine. We’ve been out dozens of times. And you’re our friend, but you never want to hang out with us after work.”

“Usually because you guys are out on your boat,” I murmured, shaking my head. “Look... I have this thing with large bodies of water, okay? I had a bad experience.... once or twice.” Three times, actually, but I didn’t feel the need to point that out. “If you guys are so set on going fishing out on the ocean this weekend, we can just do something next weekend. I just got this huge flatscreen TV and surround sound installed. We could watch the game...” The guys merely sighed, shaking their heads. It was a bit of a longshot anyway... Matt and Brendan were both the outdoorsy types, preferring to hunt and fish and camp than spend a leisurely day inside with books, a computer, or any of the other modern conveniences of this day and age.

Sometimes I even wondered why the hell I even hung out with these guys.

“Look, Jack,” Brendan said, leaning forward, “we’re not taking no for an answer. Every week we try to get you to hang out, and every week you have an excuse. We know you’re a bit gunshy and depressed after breaking up with Brooke last week, but enough’s enough. This weekend, you’re coming out with us!”

“Yeah, right,” I said, crossing my arms. “Not gonna happen, guys. I’m not getting on any damn boat. And there’s nothing you can say to convince me.”

So, anyway, I ended up on the goddamn boat.

“How ya holding up back there, Jack?” Brendan asked from the front of the boat.

“Just... peachy,” I replied with a grunt, wiping my mouth with a napkin. All in all, it wasn’t as bad as I’d thought. And after the dramamine finally kicked in and I stopped vomiting every few minutes, it was almost halfway enjoyable. The fresh air had that familiar salty hint to it that comes from being out on the ocean. And the view was great... if the sight of miles and miles of moving churning water as far as the eye can see is to your liking.

“You just... better not... post that...damn picture,” I grumbled, making my way back to the bow, standing next to the two blackmailers masquerading as my friends. I still have no idea how in the world they got a copy of that damn picture of me from the seventh grade. Mostly likely Matt got it from my foster mom back in the day, since his mom and mine were good friends. And she would be the only one to have copies of the fiasco that was Picture Day, as I’d burned every other copy I could obtain.

“Don’t worry, Jack, I promise, no one will ever see it,” Matt replied with a grin.

“Although I don’t see what the big deal is,” Brendan put in, shutting down the motor, letting the boat cruise to a halt. “You looked pretty good with a ‘Mr. T’ mohawk.”

“Drop it right now, or I will puke on both of you,” I threatened, getting a laugh from both. I chuckled myself, though I was only half joking. Still, I was here. I figured I might as well make the most of it.

Fishing in the ocean is a lot different from fishing in a lake or stream. Not that I called myself a fishing aficionado or anything... but you don’t just toss out a line with a worm on it into the ocean and expect a fish to come up and grab it. For one thing, the ocean is a big place, with lots of different things in it besides just fish. Even if you were lucky enough to snag something floating up high enough to be attracted to your little bait loaded hook, it might very well be a turtle, or a shark! Or, as my two companions found out... lots of debris and junk tosses out by other boaters.

“Goddammit! Another stinking boot?!?” Matt yelled in disgust as the ‘big one’ he’d hauled in turned out to be another piece of old mismatched footwear. “And why the hell are they all left ones?”

“Not that HE cares,” added Brendan, tossing his fishing pole down in disgust as I pulled up yet another fish, adding it to my pile. “For someone who claims to hate the water so much you seem to be having all the luck fishing!”

“The sea be a fickle mistress, she is, arrr,” I deadpanned, ignoring his glare. “Besides, considering where we are, it’s not that surprising that you guys are catching a lot of junk. You parked us pretty close to the site of a lot of recent wrecks and disappearances, after all.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Brendan asked, glancing over at me.

“Are you kidding me?” I asked, incredulously. I picked up a chart, handing it to him. “You DO know where we are, right?”

“Of course, we’re, um... here? About, what? Thirty miles southeast of Key Largo?” he guessed, staring at the map. I continued to gape at him for a moment more, before sighing inwardly.

“Try closer to sixty miles northeast of Key Largo, which is good news if you planned to turn this fishing trip into a vacation trip to the Bahamas. The sun’s over our left shoulder. We’re facing northeast! Seriously, Brendan... are you fucking with me? Tell me you haven’t gotten us lost out in the middle of the ocean!“

“N... no... no way,” he said with a frown, glancing at the map again, then checking the compass on the side of the wheel’s panel. “We’re right on course... I know it. We’re facing southeast, Jack. Compasses don’t lie.”

“They do when you place a place a goddamn IRON metal toolbox on the side of the steering wheel next to the goddamn compass!” I growled, lifting Brendan’s half rusted metal toolbox that served as his tackle box and bait holder. I lifted the box away, and as expected, the compass needle wavered, then turned to the correct direction. Matt and Brendan stared at the device, stunned, while I cursed again for several more minutes, actually more angry with myself than them for having agreed to come on this adventure.

“C’mon, Jack, take it easy,” Matt said after a while. “Look, it’s okay. So we went a little bit off course, all right? No biggee. The boat has plenty of fuel, and on the off chance the motor were to break down, we have enough of a breeze going to use the sails and rigging. We’re just a few hours from land in all directions, and now that the compass is working again, we can make our way back home, easy-peasy.” He slapped me lightly on the back. “Just try and relax, man. Go grab a beer and a sandwich, and try and have a good time!”

“Yeah, yeah,” I replied sullenly, opening a beer, taking a swallow. “But if we end up shipwrecked on some damned deserted island, don’t expect me to make some kind of radio out of a bunch of cocoanut shells and vines. I might be the Professor of our little group, but I swear, you two tie as the role of Gilligan...”

I think I mentioned it before, but I really do hate the water. Or rather... I think I hate the effect it has on my body. I actually LIKED the idea of the sea itself... stories of brave men, sailors and explorers, battling the cruel and unrelenting waters, or pirates who made their living by wading the waves, pillaging and plundering any who dared cross their paths. Before my first unfortunate... accident... I used to dream about being a diver, a deep sea mariner that swam underneath the wave, or explored the bountiful sea life, like Jacques Cousteau. And... then I drowned, and puked up a few gallons of water from my lungs, and suddenly the sea was no longer a place of wonder and glamorous adventure. NOW the sea was a horrible terrible place, as forbidden and unlivable as outer space or the north pole, and could kill you just as fast.

That was my mindset back then. People always used to tell me, you’re just scared, it won’t hurt you, it’s just water. Dive in and conquer your fear. And... I did, to a point. I learned to swim. I learned to enjoy baths and showers without freaking out. I even learned to endure the terror of traveling across a boundless mass of ocean on a small flimsy piece of floating wood and plastic just to satisfy a couple of my friends. But just because I’d come to terms with the water didn’t mean I trusted it. Irrational as it might seem, I’d always had the feeling that the water had it in for me... that the ocean itself had a personal grudge against me, and was trying it hardest to get me. As the stars came out, and Matt and I bedded down in the cabins downstairs, I couldn’t help but shake the feeling that everything going so well earlier was all just to give me a false sense of security.

Waking up an hour later to a violently rocking boat in the middle of a storm was a hell of a way to find out I was right.

“DUDE! What’s going on?” Matt yelled above the wind as we climbed back up on deck. “What’s with this storm?”

“I don’t know!” Brendan yelled back, struggling with the wheel, trying to keep the boat steady. “It just came up out of nowhere! The radio said the area was clear last time I checked, and the forecast for the area said ‘possible’ storm swells way up north along the Virginia and New York area, not this far south!”

I groaned inwardly. If I knew my buddy at all, I’d bet he checked the weather report back in Florida before we left the marina, and maybe once or twice since then. It wouldn’t have even occurred to him that the storm might move around, that what started off as a calm day might suddenly turn into a deadly storm. A bright flash of lightning lit up the night sky, striking the water a few yards away from us. Swallowing, I pulled on my life vest, and had just fastened it closed when a second lightning strike blazed even closer, as a wave struck the side of the boat.

“Ooooooohhhhshhhhhhiiiiiiiiitttt!!” I yelled as I was flung backwards. I slammed hard into the side of the boat, smacking my head, before tumbling over the edge. I was actually somewhat grateful for the smack to the noggin—it stunned me hard enough that it kept me from freaking out as I landed in the icy cold water. I went under.... then slowly bobbed back up again, like a cork. I gagged, spitting out water, shaking my head to clear it. I opened my eyes—bad mistake, as the stinging salt water blinded me momentarily, and I wasted several fruitless seconds rubbing at them, trying to see what I already should have known I would find.

I was floating... in the ocean. All by myself. In the middle of a storm. Of the list of all possible outcomes, all possible things that could have gone wrong on this trip, this was the worst possible outcome. Me... in the ocean. With the storm and waves and the wind and all, swirling me and the boat all over the place, by the time my vision cleared, the boat was completely out of my sight. Gone. I was seriously fucked. Even if my two pals knew where I’d fallen and had somehow, miraculously, managed to keep track of my position, there was no way they’d be able to guide the boat well enough in this tempest to get back to me. Which meant... at best I could look forward to getting eaten by sharks or barracuda or whatever else might want to nibble on me. At worst, I had a good day, maybe a day and a half, before I died of dehydration, or sunstroke, or any other malady from exposure, a long slow and painful death.

The only other choice would be to abandon my life vest and let myself slip underneath the waves. And... no matter how bad things got, I just ... I wouldn’t be able to do that. Not like this. No matter how I looked at it, I was fucked. I was going to die. And in my despair, I let out a scream of frustration and rage, and pain and sadness at the sheer senselessness of it all.

And then... well. I can only assumed I’d gotten whacked a lot harder in the head than I’d first believed, I was obviously delirious, possibly even brain damaged. Because... in the middle of that storm, tossed around aimlessly, with no hope, no escape, no salvation, what should I spy coming out of the surf but a young beautiful naked redheaded girl with the deepest blue eyes I’d ever seen. She was utterly entrancing... which is why it took me a second or two to notice the large green scaly fish tail attached to her!

“Take a deep breath, and hold on tight,” she said to me, as she pulled me close, into a deep embrace, and pressed her lips to mine...

Waking up on the side of a white sandy beach was unexpected. Hell, after landing in the middle of the ocean, stranded, hallucinating wildly about strangely beautiful mermaids, I was glad to wake up anywhere. I yawned and stretched, sitting up, taking stock in my situation. I was on an island, on dry solid ground again, so however remote or desolate it might be, it was still a step up from the ocean. I chuckled inwardly. The joke I’d made with the guys yesterday on the boat was now, strangely, prophetic; I really was stranded on Gilligan’s Island. Now I just needed to figure out if there were any cocoanuts I could use to cobble together a radio...

“Ah! Good morning.”

I jumped, whirling around. There, standing at the edge of the beach, her bare feet covered just by the edge of the water as the tide withdrew, was the beautiful redheaded girl from my dream/fantasy/hallucination! My jaw nearly hit the ground as she strode forth proudly onto the beach, totally naked, a smile creasing her beautiful lips. So... she was real? Had she rescued me, and brought me to this island? But... if so, then what happened to her tail? Or, more likely, was I completely batshit crazy from having swallowed too much sea water and was still hallucinating wildly in some kind of delirium? As she approached, I suddenly strode forth, reaching out, taking hold of both of her breasts, giving them a squeeze.

“Hey! That’s rude!” she yelped, jerking back, slapping my hand hard.“What did you do that for?”

“S-sorry,” I replied, blushing hotly. “I was, um, I mean... I thought you were... a mirage,” I finished lamely. Instead of being offended, the girl laughed.

“Well, I s’pose I can see dat,” she said, a bit of an island accent to her, despite her pristine, almost milky white complexion. “The name’s Rosalind, by the way. Not everyday yer rescued by a lovely yung gel, is it?”

“No, definitely not,” I replied grinning, somehow managing to avert my eyes from her glorious assets. “Especially one that’s completely naked. And my name’s Jack.”

“Completely...” she said slowly, then laughed again, slapping the side of her head. “Ah no. I forgot again. You people and your hangups,” she murmured, walking past me into the woods, returning a moment later wearing a... huh. Basically, she’d fashioned a few palm leaves and a vine into a makeshift loincloth and bra, managing to cover the bare areas, though the design did nothing to promote modesty. It was clearly for my benefit, and I felt myself blushing even deeper. “There. Dat batter, Jack?”

“Well, uh, yeah,” I managed, trying very hard not to respond physically, still completely off balance about the whole situation. Dammit, why was I the one uncomfortable here, when she was the one walking around naked? And anyway, I was getting off track. “So, um, what happened to your tail, Rosie?” I asked again, focusing on the important stuff. “If you’re actually REAL, and you’re the girl I saw last night... then where is your tail?“

“My tail?” she asked, frowning. “Really? Didn’t yer mama teach you anything growing up?” she asked, exasperated. “Mermaids don’t have tails when dey are on de land. And we don’ have to have ’em in de water either, if we don’t wanna. It’s a matter of simply willing the change.” Her frown deepened. “And... you really don’t know any of this... do you?” she said slowly.

“Um, no... how would I?” I asked, scowling back at her. “Do I look like some kind of expert in legendary mythical creatures of the seas? All I know about mermaids I got from Japanese anime and Disney! For that matter, I’m still not fully convinced I’m not in a coma still floating around in the ocean imagining all this...”

“You should know this,” the redhead replied, candidly, staring my square in the eyes, “because you’re a so-called ‘legendary mythical creature of the seas’ yourself! You, my lovely man, are an undine!”

And undine? I looked at her sadly for a moment shaking my head. “Okay. So... I guess I’m not the only one that’s lost my marbles. Well, dear sweet insane person, I thank you for rescuing me from drowning, but I need to catch the disco dancing dolphin back to Xanadu. Peace!” I said, turning to head towards the treeline, “I’m out of here.”

Rosie sighed heavily. She hated to do this to one of her own, but he wasn’t exactly giving her much choice. Opening her mouth, she began to sing, a soft lilting tune, a simple melody. As she sang, she smiled, as the young man paused, turning back at her, a blank expression on his face. Wiggling her hips, she continued to sing as she made her way back into the water, the entranced man following her in, heedless of the water steadily climbing up to legs, to his waist, even up to his chin. Only when she finally stopped did his expression clear and light return to his eyes.

“Wah... wah... what the FUCK!” I yelled, blinking, finding myself suddenly up to my literal neck in the water again. I panicked, splashing around fearfully for several seconds, even as Rosie laughed and giggled, swimming around me like a goddamn dolphin. I wasn’t sure whether I was more scared of the water, or the fact that I’d blanked out midstep to find myself teleported suddenly into the ocean... or pissed off that my redheaded companion was taking such delight at my trying not to drown!

And then she did the unthinkable, grabbing my legs, pulling me underneath the waves.

“Come on, Jack,” Rosie said playfully, teasingly as I struggled to hold my breath, “it’s okay. I promise. Just let go. Trust me! You won’t drown. You’re a child of the sea just like me. I knew it the moment I heard you call out to me the other day. That’s why I came... you called out to me last night during the storm.” She smiled, then, her hands coming to caress my face, her touch and her presence somehow breaking through the wall of panic and terror gripping me. “Trust me,” she said again, gently, her words somehow clear despite being spoke underwater. “Just... let go.”

I wavered for a moment. On the one hand, mermaids, sirens, and the like, had something of a reputation for luring sailors to their deaths. On the other, she’d saved me from drowning earlier, which kind of defeated the purpose if she just wanted to kill me. Still, she was a stranger, probably crazy, and I had no reason to trust that she was right about me. And yet... in some crazy, insane intangible way, I felt the truth of her words. I’d always felt the water was out to get me, always trying to swallow me up into its depths. Maybe... just maybe... that feeling... wasn’t as sinister as I’d thought...

It was a leap of faith. All my life I’d fought against it. But I’d lived practically my entire life with this unshakable fear. So now I would either drown and die, or embrace the water and discover something about myself that I could have never even imagined. Either way, it was time to leave the fear behind. Opening my mouth, I exhaled, letting air flow out of me, as the water rushed in to take its place. I seized, shaking, shuddering for a moment... and then went still...

Try to imagine that for a moment. Fighting against your body’s natural instinct. We’re all born with a deeply ingrained sense of self preservation, you know. People that commit suicide usually do so by quick, fairly painless methods, like a bullet to the brain, or jumping off a building... things that hit you hard and fast and that once started, can’t be stopped. You never head of someone trying to kill themselves by cutting off their own arm or ripping out their own tongue. The ‘Saw’ movies were Hollywood movie magic—normal people wouldn’t be able to physically cut or saw off their own limbs that way, their own bodies’ reaction would stop them from going through with it.

With that in mind, imagine putting your head in the bathtub and turning on the water, holding it there as the water steadily rose and rose, until you simply drowned to death. Could you do it? Could you resist your body’s natural reaction to jerk up wildly and gasp life giving breaths of air? Now imagine that was your greatest phobia, the very idea giving you nightmares. THAT was what I faced when I simply gave in and let myself drown.

NOW imagine facing such a moment... and coming through it intact, miraculously alive and well. Words cannot accurately describe such a feeling of freedom... of the simple reaffirming joy of being alive! I yelled and whooped and swam around under the water with Rosie, laughing and giggling like a pair of kids. It felt strange, really... I had NOT sprouted a tail or anything like her, I still looked completely human. And yet... I was breathing water, swimming around under the waves like a damned fish, with no problems whatsoever. In fact... it felt damned natural. Taking a moment, I pulled Rosie close for a little conversation.

“Okay... so I guess I’m a... what did you call it earlier... an ‘undine’?” She nodded, grinning. “All right. I didn’t drown, so point goes to you. Can you tell me how this happened? How does a person become a undine, or a mermaid, or whatever? Was I bitten by a radioactive merman or something?” Rosie’s response was a peal of laughter that let out a stream of bubbles, momentarily clouding the clear water.

“Ah, no, mon,” she said with a smirk. “You’re an undine—well, technically, half-undine—because of your mother,” she explained. “You mom... she was from this area, you know. She was actually our Queen.” She sighed softly, considering. “Undine are immortal water spirits. They were blessed with eternal life, but no souls of their own. They could, however, gain a soul of their own by taking a mate, falling in love with someone and surrendering their virtue and their immortality. Our queen was one of those who choose to do so.”

I drew still at that. My family life... wasn’t something I thought much about. I was raised mostly by my dad until he passed away, after which I went into foster care. I barely even remembered my birth mom, who’d left back when I was four. Not that I blamed her—the old man was a real piece of work. Ex-navy, he had a temper, and a fondness for the bottle, two things that did not mix well. To give him credit, he never laid a hand on me... well, other than a few well deserved spankings when I occasionally acted out. And I don’t believe he ever physically hurt my mom. But when he was in a mood, he would yell and scream and cuss a blue streak, breaking furniture and dishes, and pretty anything that got in his way. I’d asked him once when I was old enough why mom left, and he kind of sighed, turning away.

“Your mom left because I’m a damned stupid rat bastard,” he’d said after a while. When he looked back up, he had tears in his eyes, one of the few times in my life that I remembered ever seeing him cry. “I loved her, Jack... loved her more than life itself. She loved me too... put up with all my B.S, all my problems. She only had one thing, one absolute rule, that she could not tolerate, and that was being unfaithful. And me... well... one night I got drunk, and me and this cute blonde girl...” He sighed and turned away. “I regretted it afterwards. I really did. And I never told you mom, but she still knew. She left me the next day.” He shook his head. “It was the biggest mistake of my whole damned life...”

I remembered that day well. He’d died suddenly the next day, some kind of embolism, they’d said. His heart had simply stopped beating. I went into foster care after that, until I was old enough to be on my own. I was so young back then... but I just figured everyone had it rough growing up. I was hardly the first kid to come from a broken home. I just never really dwelt on it much.

“Let me guess,” Rosie said after a moment. “Your dad... he cheated on her, and she left him? And he died a year later, to the day that she left?” I blinked at that, counting up the time in my head... and nodded in surprise. “That only proves it. There is a legend... the Undine curse. If an Undine gives her love, her heart to a mate, and that mate proves himself or herself unfaithful, they will die within a year and a day from the time of their dalliance.”

“Wait... wait a second!” I yelped, connecting the dots. “You said I’m HALF undine. Are you saying... if I fall in love with someone and they cheat on me, does that mean they’ll died in a year?!?” Wincing, Rosie glanced away, a confirmation if ever I’d had one. I suddenly thought back to my high school girlfriend, Frieda, who’d cheated on me during our junior year. She’d ‘traded-up’ for the football team’s star running back, Brian Alverson. During our senior year, she’d suddenly dropped out a week before graduation, supposedly down with some strange and rare disease. I remember feeling a bit vindicated at the time, taking a kind of savage pleasure in her suffering. Now, in light of this new information, I felt horrified.

And... did this mean I didn’t even have a soul?!?

“I know, I know,” Rosie said gently, leaning forward to hug me. “It’s a lot to take in all at once. But it’s not good or bad. It simply is. A shark is not evil, even though it devours pretty much anything that crosses its path. It mere does what it was born to do. It was created that way. A jellyfish stings who or whatever wanders into its tentacles. Again, not evil. It’s how it was made. And you, Jack... you’re a child of the sea, just like me. You not a monster. You simply are who and what you are.” She reformed her mermaid tail and swam in a circle, kissing me. “You’ve lived your life up to now thinking you were just a normal man, only now to find that you are something much much more. You just need some time to... to process this. To learn about who and what you are.”

I nodded slowly. “And... you’ll teach me?” I asked, hopefully.

She nodded. “If you want. I can introduce you to others of our kind as well. I’m really still a kid, you know, only fifty-seven years old,” I blinked, gaping at her, “but some of the elders could probably teach you more.“

Fifty-seven? Twice my age... and still a kid, huh? Well, I guess when you were pretty much immortal, age truly was just a number. As I followed her along underneath the sea, another thought occurred to me. “So, you said my mom was the Queen of the Undine, right? Does that make me a Prince or something?”

“Indeed, it does,” Rosie said with a grin, “your majesty,” she added with a giggle.

“Huh. Interesting. Undersea powers—I do have special powers, right? Like that singing thing you did to get me back into the water?” She nodded, still grinning. “So, undersea powers, breathing water, and royalty. I’m basically Aquaman. Not the coolest superhero, but beats being a normal human I guess.”

Rosie blinked. “Aqua-man?” she asked, curious. I laughed.

“I’ll tell you later,” I promised, swimming up alongside her, reaching out to caress her curvy green scaled butt. “In the meantime, why don’t you tell me more about where we’re going, and these ‘long lost’ relatives of mine...”

In the end, I decided to go back ‘home’ to the surface world for a bit. I had a lot of things there that needed to be handled, and some loose ends that needed tidying up before I could return to the sea. The first I handled in person nearly three weeks later, when I stepped into my old office, running into Brendan and Matt. Talk about having seen a ghost—they both nearly fainted dead away at the sight of me. When they saw me swept overboard, they’d fought like maniacs trying to turn the boat back and look for me. Utterly futile, considering the power of the storm, but they’d stayed there, circling the site, for three days, trying in vain to find me... or at least bring my body back home for a decent burial

While I was learning about life ‘Under De Sea’ they were up top, struggling with the guilt of my “death”. They’d radioed the Coast Guard, telling them what had happened, and even stayed behind another day even when the rest of the searchers had given up. Brendan blamed himself for losing me, for having talked me into coming along on the trip in the first place. He’d taken it upon himself to set up a memorial service for me—a small quiet affair, since I had no living family members left (that he knew of, anyway) and few friends outside of work. That was why I loved the guy.

I spun the usual B.S. story... about clinging to a piece of floating debris and drifting to shore, of living on fish and berries and cocoanuts for a few days before building a fire to catch the attention of a passing ship, and eventually being rescued. They both bought it, hook line and sinker. Adding a little vocal influence to my words from my newly acquired powers certainly helped. We hugged, and caught up, and shot the shit. And then I dropped the bombshell—that I wasn’t coming back.

“You’re leaving? For real?” Matt had asked, unable to wrap his head around it.

“Yep. ’Fraid so. If I learned anything over the past few weeks it’s that life is too short to spend it sitting in a cubicle, at a desk, crunching numbers. I almost died out there, guys. But I didn’t. I’ve got a new lease on life, and I intend to make the most of it.”

“By doing what?” Brendan asked, dubiously. “Living like a beach bum in the Keys, or over in the Bahamas? Jack, you were on the fast track to becoming an executive, the youngest one in the history of this firm! You can’t tell me you’re willing to walk away from all this!”

“I sure am,” I said with a grin, leaning over to grab a small paper cup, pouring myself some water from the dispenser. ‘Rainwater Fresh’? Yeah right. They didn’t know the meaning of the word! “But don’t worry. I’ll be just fine.” I turned to leave, then paused. “Oh, one good thing that came out of this—I’m over my fear of the water now. Who knows? Maybe I’ll see you guys around, and we’ll hang out again!”

Two down, one to go. Heading across town, I stopped by my ex-girlfriend’s place. Brooke Banks and I had been an item for little more than a year before she’d suddenly decided to break it off. I never knew for sure why, if I’d done something to piss her off, or if she’d just gotten tired of me. I’d always kind of suspected that she’d cheated, that she’d found someone else, she liked better, but I never had any proof, and was frankly too down on myself to question the matter of her fidelity.

From what I knew now, however, I was more than sure my instincts were correct. I wasn’t exactly the most lovable or romantic guy, but I always tried to do right by whatever girl I was with. And I was no Don Juan... but hell, Rosie enjoyed it well enough so I apparently wasn’t bad in bed. And yet, even though Brooke and I had never really committed to each other, had never gotten much beyond the ‘friends with benefits’ stage, I still thought enough of her to try and give her an out, to spare her from the curse she had unknowingly brought down on herself. Reaching her door, I paused, hand on the doorknob, frowning deeply. From the sounds going on inside, she had company. For a moment, I saw red—FUCKING SLUT, only a goddamn MONTH since we broke up and you’re already screwing around—but with a bit of self control, the moment passed. I’d known intellectually that she was unfaithful, but to get confirmation this way... I was very temped to simply walk away and let her fate be her own.

No. It’s like Rosie said. I’m not a monster for what I can do. I only become a monster by knowing what I can do to someone and choosing to let it happen. I might not be entirely human... but that doesn’t mean I have lost my humanity.

Knocking on the door, I waited, glancing idly along the hallway as she and her lover scurried to put something on and make themselves more presentable. “Coming, coming!” she yelled out, to which I merely smirked. She apparently HAD been moments before I interrupted her. She opened the door, her long blonde hair tangled and wild all over her face as she pulled her bathrobe tightly around herself. “Sorry about the noise, Ms. Langford,” she babbled, “I promise we’ll keep it down from now—holy shit! Jack! What the hell are YOU doing here?”

“What? Can’t an old friend stop by to visit an old ex-girlfriend?” I asked, keeping my tone light and pleasant. I waited a few seconds, as she stood, eyes narrowed. “So, are you going to let me in?” I asked a moment later, “or is this a bad time?”

“Y-yeah, actually, it IS kind of a bad time,” she said, eyes moving back up and to the left slightly, resisting the urge to glance back at her house guest just behind the door. “Geez, Jack... I heard you were dead, that you’d drowned at sea!”

“Alas, the reports of my death were greatly exaggerated,” I said nimbly, leaning against the doorjamb. my eyes boring into her own. “Now, Brooke, sweetie... step away from the door, and let me in” I commanded her gently. Blinking, she nodded woodenly, stepping back to allow me inside. “Hmmm... nice. I like what you’ve done with the place.” As I turned, a large burley man at least a foot taller than me, dressed in a white T-shirt and boxers, stepped forward.

“Hey pal, the lady already told you, this is a bad time,” he growled, placing a pair of meaty hands on my shoulders. “You need to leave, bro, before you piss me the fuck off!”

Of everything he’d said, did, and implied, the comment ‘bro’ was what got my dander up. Rather than go off in a Samuel L. Jackon-esque rant, I merely tapped a finger in the center of his forehead... and adjusted the water in his inner ear slightly to the left. “Have a seat,” I said briskly, as he groaned and toppled over, face-planting, his sense of balance completely gone. " And shut up. Adults need to have a conversation.“

“Randy? Oh my god, Jack, what the hell did you just do?” Brooke screamed, rushing over to her lover. “Get the FUCK out of here before I call the cops!”

I sighed deeply. “You know, Brooke, I’m tempted to do just that, and let the chips fall where they may. Really seriously tempted. But... I want to give you one last chance to help yourself.” I closed my eyes, humming softly, a simple little tune I’d learned during my three week long excursion. Finished I opened my eyes to see Brooke still glaring at me, seemingly unaffected. I nodded inwardly. “Okay, Brooke. I’m going to ask you a couple of questions, and I want you to answer with complete truthfulness and honesty.”

She continued to glare, upping the ante by giving me the finger as well. So classy, my dear Brooke.

“Okay. First question. During the time we were dating, were you ever truly interested in me at all? Did you have any real feelings for me, or was it all just a sham?”

“Not for a moment,” she answered immediately. “Yeah, you were kind of hot looking, but I was more interested in your wallet. You were the new hot shot executive, the rising star—you were a source of money, free gifts and the occasional fuck when my ‘itch’ needed scratching.” She blinked, then gasped, hands going to her mouth. “What the.... I didn’t mean to say that out loud! What the hell?”

Well. That was disappointing. Expected, but disappointing. Still, it helped Brooke’s case. “Okay, Brooke. Now for the million dollar question. In the twelve months that we dated, did you cheat on me? Specifically, did you have sex with another person while we were a couple?”

She frowned, her lips twisting, as if she were fighting the words bubbling up inside. Finally, her mouth opened. “Yes. I did. Three times. The first, about two weeks after we first started dating, my old ex and I met up, and I figured ‘what the hell, why not’? The second time about a month before I called it off. I was bored and alreay looking for someone else, and RTandy and I just hit it off..” Eyes wide, she grit her teeth, trying to keep from speaking but the compulsion was too great. She had to finish answering before she regained control of her own mouth.

“The last time was the day I broke up with you,” she stated, losing her inner battle. “I’d just finished fucking Randy before you came home. You missed him by seven minutes—goddammit! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!” she screamed, finally back in control of her own mouth again. “What is this? What did you do to me? Did you drug me some how? Truth serum? You fucking shit!”

There it was. Confirmation. And... the bloody day she broke up with me? Talk about cold. Again, the temptation to simply leave, walk away and be done reared its ugly head... and again I stared it down. Even if I allowed her to go on living, I was severely tempted to let her stay exactly the way she was now—unable to speak anything but the complete and absolute truth. it would be a fitting punishment, mind you, not to mention funny as hell... but knowing her, I figured she’d last a week before she stuck a gun in her own mouth and pulled the trigger.

Besides I’d come here to give her a way out of her fate, not rope her into a worse one.

“Brooke. Calm down. I’ll be leaving shortly,” I told her, walking over to the kitchenette. Opening the fridge, I took out a beer, and popped the tab. One of mine, from the case I’d brought over the last time I’d visited. Only three left in the case, though Brooke didn’t drink beer, meaning she’d been entertaining regularly. “Before I go, I need you to do just one thing for me. I need you to say, ‘I was never your true love, and your heart is your own’, then kiss me on the lips. Do that, and you’ll never hear from me again.”

Brooke stared at me as if I’d suddenly grown a second head. “Are you out of your fucking mind? There’s no way I’m saying that bullshit even if it is true... grrrr!” She shook her head furiously. “And there’s no way in HELL I’m kissing you. You can kiss my ass!”

“Brooke, please. I’m trying to help you here,” I said idly, taking another swig of beer. “It’s LITERALLY a matter of life and death. If I walk away without this...”

“Get out of here! Get out! Right now! Or I swear I’m calling the cops... hell I’m calling them even after you leave—fuck! STOP MAKING ME SAY THAT SHIT!”

Okay. One last shot. “Look, Brooke, You’re not a total idiot. You know something freaky is going on here. I could just make you say the words, or kiss me. Hell, I could make you strip, kneel and suck me off in front of your new boyfriend if I wanted to. But this isn’t about me. And forcing you to do this against your will is meaningless.” I sighed, drinking the rest of the beer. “So, please, Brooke, if not for me, for what we once had... then do it for yourself. Just do this one tiny thing for me. Okay?“

“No! Read my lips, asshole—Fuck. You.”

I nodded. “Okay.” I’d given it a shot. Shrugging, I walked towards the door. “Guess I’ll be going then. Have a nice life. Oh, and don’t worry about your, ahem, friend. He’ll recover soon enough. Oh, and one last thing, Brooke—clean your damn fish tank, willya? Those goldfish are sick of swimming in their own filth.” Walking out, I snapped my fingers... and the fire sprinklers went off back inside the room.

Yeah! Aquaman, bitch!!

“So, you all done with your business?” Rosie asked as she met me at the corner outside Brooke’s apartment. Dressed in a bright red and green sarong with strappy sandals on her feet, she was the most welcome sight I could have hoped for. I merely nodded, sighing softly. She placed her arms around me, hugging me with sympathy. “Let me guess. She didn’t take the out you offered her? She refused to renounce her actions and take responsibility, huh?”

“Yeah.” I shrugged. “I tried. She didn’t make it easy, but I tried. Three times.” I let out a deep breath. It was over now... over and done. Whether the curse took her or not, I’d done right by her. Well... for the most part. Flooding her apartment out of spite was maybe a bit over the top. At any rate, it was time to put the past behind me and move on with the rest of my life. “C’mon, gorgeous,” I said, wrapping an arm around her waist, tilting her back before giving her a deep French kiss. “I’m tired of this city. Let’s head back home. Let’s return... to the sea.“