The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

A sweating Dr. Jaeckel applauded along with the rest of the men in the audience as Jacqueline finished her dance. Nude except for glossy black high heels and a fur boa Jaeckel had provided for the night’s performance, she knelt down on the tabletop, arching her body backward to let her fingertips rest on the polished surface. Her head tilted back, eyes closed, mouth open in a sexy pout, the transformed scientist basked in male admiration far more intense than anything the buttoned-up Dr. Keller had ever experienced. Somewhere deep inside, her former self weakened further at the knowledge of how much more popular she was this way.

After holding her pose for half a minute or so, bathing in her audience’s cheers and clapping, she climbed off the table and nonchalantly put her clothes back on.

“I love this place,” she gloated as, fully attired again, she sat down across from Jaeckel. “I can really cut loose here! And guys really dig me!”

“Yes, we—they do,” a flushed Martin Jaeckel responded. Her act had made him come again, hard enough to see double for a second. He wasn’t alone, either: looking around the club, he saw a number of men with dazed grins on their faces.

A couple of minutes later, though, he was reminded that not everyone got such a kick out of Jacqueline when the club’s manager, a heavyset man in his forties wearing a cheap-looking suit, came over to their table. Delilah Duos was with him.

“Listen,” the manager, said, addressing Jaeckel, “your girlfriend’s a pretty good stripper, for an amateur. But we’ve already got our own performers, like Delilah here.”

“You tell ‘im, honey,” said the club dancer, clutching the clubman’s arm in a possessive way which hinted at more than a professional relationship. “I’m the star attraction around here, not some drunk bimbo off the street.”

Jacqueline reddened. Without warning, she stood and swung her right arm in a fast arc, her open hand catching Delilah across the mouth with a harsh crack, drawing blood. “Shut up, bitch!” she snarled.

“Easy,” Jaeckel soothed. “Easy. There’s no need for that.”

Both women looked as if they wanted to disagree. Restrained by Jaeckel’s words, Jacqueline sat back down, but she continued to glare at Delilah. For her part, the stage dancer was plainly furious, but, one hand covering a cut lip, she seemed afraid to risk another hit in the face.

“I’m not drunk,” the redhead said. “And I’m not a bimbo either, cow. I just like to have a good time. You got a problem with that?” She made as if to get up again, and the blonde stage dancer backed off a step.

“That will do,” Jaeckel said. “Relax, Jacqueline. Let yourself float, that’s right. Relax. Drift. Everything’s just fine.”

Jacqueline obeyed, sitting back down and going limp in her chair. Her head tilted back, and her eyes rolled up as her eyelids half closed, so that the lashes fluttered above blank whites.

“Jesus,” Delilah said. “What, you’ve got her hypnotized or something?”

“Or something,” responded Jaeckel, nodding. “I apologize, miss, for her striking you. I didn’t expect her to get so upset—but you did push pretty hard.”

“So what now?” asked the club manager.

“That depends,” Jaeckel replied. “I might be able to persuade my girl here to perform at your club on an official basis, if you’d be willing to hire her. It’d be only, say, one dance a night at first; that way, if it didn’t work out, letting her go wouldn’t leave too big a hole in your schedule. Fridays would be best, if you can arrange it.”

“No,” Delilah butted in. “I don’t want her here!”

“Shuddup, Del,” the manager growled. “I run this place, not you. You forget that, you can forget comin’ in to work.” Quelled, Delilah fell silent. Jacqueline smirked.

“So are you interested, or not?” asked Jaeckel.

The club manager nodded. “Yeah, I’m interested. Let’s step into my office.”

Jaeckel cleared his throat. “If we’re going to be signing contracts together,” he said, “shouldn’t we at least know one another’s names? I’m Martin”—he hesitated—“Jackson, and this,” he pointed to Jacqueline, “is Jacki, no E,” he hesitated again, then went on with a strange, knowing look, “Hyde, H-Y-D-E. Jacki Hyde.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and finished, “The stage name we’re planning on using is Jacki Juggs, with two G’s.”

The other man nodded. “Good enough. My handle’s Abe Baumgartner.” He looked appraisingly at the scrawny scientist, as if guessing he hadn’t really given his and Jacqueline’s real names. If he had any such ideas, though, they didn’t seem to bother him.

Jaeckel smiled. “Fine.” Turning to face the bonelessly-relaxed Jacqueline, he addressed her: “Come with me.”

The woman’s eyes opened fully again at Dr. Jaeckel’s words. Her head came up and she stood in a single fluid motion. “Come with me,” she sang softly, moving to stand by Jaeckel. Then the three of them moved off, Abe Baumgartner in the lead, leaving a fuming Delilah Duos behind.

Baumgartner’s office was a grubby little room backstage, cluttered with papers and promotional posters of his club’s strippers. A large picture of Delilah, dressed in a white fur boa, fishnets and white spike-heeled pumps, was tacked up on the inside of the door. There was a computer on the desk, and after a few mouse clicks, a document appeared on its screen.

“This is a standard contract,” the club manager explained. “For what you want, we’re gonna have to make a few changes, but that’s okay. It ain’t the first time; in this business, you learn to be flexible.” He tapped away at the keyboard, then turned the computer’s flat LCD screen around to show his guests the results.

Jaeckel read carefully, then nodded. The modified contract stipulated, as Jaeckel had requested, that “Jacki Hyde, AKA Jacki Juggs” would perform on Friday nights, with an option for additional sets. “This will do,” he announced. “What do you think, Jacki?”

“This will do,” Jacqueline responded, smiling vapidly. Then, as her brain moved past its reflex response to Jaeckel’s words, she continued in a more animated tone. “Yeah, it’ll be fine. I’m looking forward to it.” She smiled warmly at the club manager. “I’ll make you glad I’m here.” The look she sent him was smoldering.

The club manager saved the contract file and printed out three copies, then handed one to Jaeckel and one to Jacqueline. Then he said, “I think we’re done here. If you want, you can go back out to your table for another drink. On the house.”

“Thanks,” responded Jaeckel, “but I think we need to be getting along. Jacki and I’ll be in on Friday, though, for her first night on stage.”

“Suit yourselves,” the club manager said. He was clearly disappointed that the gorgeous redhead wouldn’t be staying. “I’m pencilin’ her in for seven-thirty.”

“Seven-thirty,” agreed Jaeckel.

“Seven-thirty,” repeated Jacqueline, licking her lips. “Friday.”

Dr. Jaeckel and the serum-transformed Dr. Keller had driven to the Golden Cockatoo separately this time. Jaeckel was now confident enough in his control over Jacqueline in her altered state to allow her to go there without him at her side to make sure she did as she’d been told. “Jacki Hyde” drove home on her own, as well, after receiving another hypo of serum to use when she arrived. Dr. Jaeckel followed her carefully and watched as she parked in front of her building.

As expected, it was the “normal” Dr. Jacqueline Keller who emerged from the vehicle. Jaeckel had commanded her to inject herself as soon as she parked, so that her change would happen out of the view of passersby. Obviously, she had obeyed.

Jaeckel smiled as Dr. Keller calmly went inside. He had directed her to remember nothing of their evening at the Golden Cockatoo. As far as she was concerned right now, she’d gone out alone after work and spent the evening at a bar near her home. She would finish out the evening normally and go to bed.

But in the morning . . . !

Whistling, Martin Jaeckel drove home.

The next day, a distraught-looking Dr. Keller sought him out at lunch. As usual, Jaeckel was eating a brown-bag lunch in the company dining hall. He’d just taken a large bite of his ham-and-cheese-on-rye sandwich when a shadow fell over him.

“Excuse me,” Dr. Keller said nervously. “Dr. Jaeckel? Can we go somewhere and talk?” She cleared her throat. “Somewhere private?”

“Of course, Dr. Keller,” he said. Rising from his seat, he left the dining area, Dr. Keller trailing behind. He led her into an unused conference room at the other end of the building, and they sat down.

“Now,” he said, “what did you want to see me about?”

Dr. Keller stared at him. “What have you done to me?” Her eyes were wide and frightened behind her glasses.

“What are you talking about?” Of course, he knew perfectly well.

“When I woke up this morning, I suddenly remembered—crazy things! You, injecting me with something—something that made me—change!”

“Change? Change how?” Jaeckel smiled indulgently, as if he were dealing with a child or a mental patient.

“Into—well,” Dr. Keller flushed, “into a bimbo. A big-boobed babe with long, bright-red hair, who had wild sex with you, who did anything you said—even stripped and danced on a table in some dive. I thought that was a dream the other night—but it was real! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”

Jaeckel smirked in triumph. Then, composing himself, he said, “Have you ever read Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?”

“Yes, of course,” Dr. Keller said. “What’s that got to do with—oh, my God!” Her mouth dropped open in shock. “You can’t be serious!”

“But I am,” Dr. Jaeckel said. He rose and began to pace in front of Jacqueline Keller, lost for a moment in his thoughts. Then he went on.

“Robert Louis Stevenson wrote that novel in the mid-nineteenth century, when doctors were first experimenting with anesthesia and pain-killing drugs, many of which had mind-altering properties. Often, they used themselves as guinea pigs.

“It’s always assumed that Jekyll and Hyde is an allegory, a parable about the dark side of such research. And so it is—except that there’s more literal truth in it than most people ever knew.” Jaeckel stopped pacing and gestured at himself. “The story was based on the real-life research of my own ancestor, Dr. Horatio Jaeckel. That Dr. Jaeckel had been fascinated with the power of the mind to affect the body, and his experiments led him to concoct a crude chemical mixture which, just as the novel says, unleashed a violent, uninhibited alter ego from within him when he tried it on himself. That other self not only expressed deeply buried elements of the good doctor’s personality, it transformed him physically to match. Today we might say it forced an alternate reading of the DNA in his cells; back then, of course, genes and their makeup were unknown.

“And that was Horatio’s downfall.” Jaeckel started pacing again. “He’d stumbled onto something unexpected, something he couldn’t really control. Eventually, it took him over completely. Stevenson’s account of how Hyde grew more and more dominant, finally taking over completely, is perfectly accurate. Horatio gave him copies of his journals, near the end. ‘Hyde’ knew, of course—but he was killed by the police before he could do anything about it.

“But Horatio had a son.” Jaeckel met Dr. Keller’s eyes, and kept looking into them as he continued walking back and forth. “A son who inherited the original journals, as well as what remained of Horatio’s serum and experimental equipment. A son who solved the mystery of what was in the first successful batch of his drug, but was missing from batches made from seemingly identical ingredients Horatio acquired later on.

“And he had a son, who also had a son, down to the present day. Down to me. Each dedicated to the family’s private project, each making his own contribution. We’ve made a great deal of progress since the eighteen-hundreds.”

“You’re telling me you’re descended from a, a fictional character? The original Dr. Henry Jekyll?” Keller knew, now, that she was dealing with a lunatic. “That’s—crazy!” She started to rise from her chair, preparing to flee the room and call the police.

Jaeckel placed his hands on her shoulders and forced her back down with surprising strength. “No, no,” he corrected her. “Not Henry Jekyll, but the man on whom that character was based. In the same way Bram Stoker based his Dracula on the real-life Vlad the Impaler—or,” pursing his lips, “to pick a less frightening example, the way Sherlock Holmes was based on several real-life detectives of his author’s time.”

Keller ground out through gritted teeth, “Even if all this is true, you’ve been drugging me, you son of a bitch! You’ll rot in prison after I call the cops!”

Jaeckel, still wearing a patronizing smile, took his hands off Keller’s shoulders and responded mildly, “And tell them what, exactly? Where’s your proof? Who’d believe it, even long enough to visit the Golden Cockatoo and find out they really have signed up a new dancer called Jacki Juggs?” His expression turned harsher. “And now that you’re nicely addicted to the serum, what would you do if I did go to jail? Who’d give you a fix when you need it? And you will, I promise you, you will!” He laughed nastily.

“Damn you,” whispered Jacqueline, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “I’ll beat you. I’ll beat your fucking drug, and then I’ll see you thrown into the deepest hole there is!”

“There, there,” Jaeckel said, suddenly soothing. “Let’s just see, shall we?” And he patted Dr. Keller on the head.

“Don’t touch me!” she screamed, eyes squeezing shut in fury and shame. “Get the hell away from me!” She lashed out blindly, but her fist hit nothing. When she opened her eyes and looked up, Jaeckel was gone.

Dr. Keller realized before long why Jaeckel had been so sure of her. As the day wore on, she felt worse and worse as what she now recognized as the craving for Dr. Jaeckel’s serum tightened its grip. By the time her usual departure time rolled around, it was all she could do to stumble toward the parking lot; the walls wavered around her, pain was white fire in her veins, and her ears clanged with the sound of bells. With her restored memory, she realized the withdrawal symptoms were worse than ever.

Jaeckel was waiting for her by the exit. “Still want to put me in prison?” he asked. He pulled a hypo from his pocket and held it just out of her reach.

“Sh-sh-shuddup,” Jacqueline moaned, shivering in agony. “Gimme the stuff! Gimme it, GIMME it!” She grabbed wildly for the needle. She actually got hold of it—and then it fell from her trembling fingers to smash on the blacktop.

“NO-O-O!” she screamed, falling to her knees, sobbing, scrabbling for the broken pieces of the hypodermic.

Then she screamed again, and fell flat. She writhed—and changed, growing, filling out, morphing once again into her “Jacki Hyde” persona, as Martin Jaeckel watched in fascination. At last, she got to her feet and brushed herself off, smiling.

“Wow,” she said. “That was a rough ride.” And then: “Hey! You didn’t inject me this time! How come I changed?”

“You’re finally strong enough to come out without the serum,” explained Jaeckel. “Soon you’ll be so strong that you’ll never change back, even if you take the drug.”

The two of them walked across the parking lot as they talked. “How come Dr. Dull” (Jaeckel needed a moment to realize Jacki meant her “Dr. Keller” identity) “doesn’t get stronger too, when I use the stuff to change back into her? How come it doesn’t just even out?”

“Good question,” Jaeckel responded. “You’re the identity the serum created, though. That’s why every dose of it strengthens you, but not her, no matter which way it drives your metamorphosis. That’s why she gets withdrawal pains, and you don’t. I could give you a more detailed explanation—”

“But I’d probably fall asleep,” Jacki interrupted him, laughing. “That brainy stuff’s not for me. Okay, I get it.”

They reached Dr. Keller’s car. As Jacki rummaged through her purse for the keys, Jaeckel observed, “You know, until you’ve stabilized the way you are, I need to set up the serum hypos in pairs to manage the transformation both ways. Since you—that is, Dr. Keller—broke the one I’d filled for your first dose tonight, I need to go home to load another. Want to come along? We can have ourselves a little private party.”

Jacki laughed again. “Sounds like a plan, Martin honey.” She’d found the keys, and opened the car door.

“Wait till I get to my car, and follow me out,” Martin said. He hurried across the smooth surface of the parking lot to his own car, got in, and started out, passing through the gate. In his rear-view mirror, he saw Dr. Keller’s car behind him. He grinned.

It took about forty-five minutes to get to his house from the lab. Jaeckel kept checking to make sure Jacqueline—Jacki—was still following him. He needn’t have worried; she stayed right behind him all the way, never separated from him by more than a couple of vehicles, despite the evening traffic.

They parked in Jaeckel’s drive and went into the house. Martin brought out a bottle of wine and two fancy glasses, and the two of them had an introductory drink. Then he said, “Wait here, Jacki. I need to fill the hypo; it won’t take more than a few minutes, and then we’ll have some fun.”

“Sure thing, Martin honey,” Jacki burbled. “Hurry back!”

Jaeckel went down into his basement lab. As he’d promised, it was only a few minutes later when he returned, carrying a sealed plastic bag containing a freshly prepared syringe of the transformative serum. Carefully, he put the bag in Jacki’s purse.

Then the celebration started in earnest. The bottle of wine was gone soon, after which their clothes quickly disappeared as well, cast aside. The two of them staggered to Martin’s bedroom door, and he was just drunk enough to try carrying Jacki across the threshold. It didn’t work, of course; she was bigger and heavier than he was. They collapsed in a heap just inside the bedroom, both laughing. Overwhelmed with lust, they had sex right there, thrashing and thrusting on the bare floor; then they got up and mounted Martin’s bed for more. Eventually, they drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.

The sun was rising by the time Martin Jaeckel woke up. His face was still buried in Jacki’s gorgeous hair. Shifting position, he gently climbed off her.

The motion was enough to wake her as well. “Mmm?” she murmured before opening her eyes. Then, coming fully awake and looking toward Martin’s bedroom window, she cried, “It’s morning!”

“Yes, it is,” Martin agreed. “I’ll fix some breakfast for us.” He padded away to find something to wear.

In a little while, appetizing smells lured Jacki into the kitchen, dressed in a robe of Martin’s which fit her like a miniskirt. Martin had made a large omelet and toast and set out coffee. The two of them ate heartily.

Afterward, Martin said, “It’ll be time to go to work soon, Jacki. You know what that means.”

Jacki pouted. “I have to change back into Dr. Dull again, don’t I.” She grinned wickedly and opened the robe. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay home and play instead?”

Martin gulped. He was really, really tempted. But no. “I’d better not,” he finally managed. “We’d better not.” He smiled back at her. “The way things are going, though, you won’t have to do it much longer. Soon, you’ll be sealed in this identity permanently.”

“Good!” Jacki clapped her hands.

At work, Dr. Keller avoided Martin Jaeckel. Before having her inject herself with the serum and change back to her normal self, Jaeckel had instructed her that she would remember everything this time, including the fact that she was helplessly addicted to the transformative serum. Then he’d reminded her that no one would believe her if she told them what was going on. Finally, he’d put another hypo full of serum in her purse for the next day. “You’ll be needing this,” he had promised.

Once she’d returned to her Dr. Keller persona, she felt thoroughly humiliated. As Jaeckel had ordered, she remembered everything. After arriving at the lab, she tried to bury herself in her work, but it was useless. The craving hit harder and faster this time. By lunchtime, she was barely able to hobble away to the ladies’ room and pull out the syringe Jaeckel had given her.

The rush of relief she felt as the serum hit her was indescribable. Washed away along with the physical withdrawal pangs was the anger and terrible shame at what she remembered her alter ego doing and feeling. The change was faster than ever, and when it was over, she laughed aloud.

It was Friday, she realized. Tonight was her debut on-stage at the Golden Cockatoo. There was just time enough to do a little shopping before she had to get ready for her performance.

At five o’clock, Martin Jaeckel was just finishing up a particularly tedious experiment in the schedule he’d been assigned when his desk phone rang. Startled, he picked it up. “Drexel Pharmaceuticals, Laboratory One; Dr. Jaeckel speaking. Who’s calling, please?”

“My, my,” a warm, rich, familiar voice said teasingly. “How formal we are—and after last night, too.”

“Ja—Jacki?” Martin was genuinely startled.

“That’s just who it is, Martin honey,” came the response. “Remember what day it is?”

“Sure,” Martin said. “It’s Friday. What—oh, yes!” He grinned. “I guess you, ah, came back early.”

“I sure did. And I’ve spent the afternoon buying stuff for tonight. I’m at your place now. If you hurry, maybe we can have a little private show of our own before we hit the club.”

Martin hurried. And when he got home, as promised, Jacki put on a show for him. It was pretty spectacular. She’d outfitted herself with a whole wardrobe of stripper gear, from boas and G-strings to high heels to costume jewelry, and she modeled it for him in seductive poses and dance moves which had him gasping. The effect was heightened by the fact that her last transformation had made her body even more richly endowed than before: her breasts were larger, her legs tapered splendidly from broader hips to tinier feet, her hair was even longer and a more fiery red.

It was almost too much. They almost ended up in bed again. It was only with an effort that Martin remembered their appointment at the club. Not showing up would blow the deal, which was critical to his final plans for the former Dr. Keller.

They made it on time. Jacki was a big hit, just as Martin had hoped. After her performance, Abe Baumgartner came over to Jaeckel’s table and congratulated him. “Wow,” the Golden Cockatoo’s proprietor said. “Your babe’s really something. She’s gonna be a star!”

“That’s great,” Dr. Jaeckel said.

“Where the hell’d you find her, anyway?” Baumgartner asked. “Dancers like that don’t just appear.”

This one did, Jaeckel thought, but didn’t say. “We met a while ago,” he said carefully. “She wasn’t really interested in dancing at first, but I persuaded her she had what it takes.” Not a word was untrue, but Baumgartner would have to be psychic to guess at the real story.

It was only two days later that Jacqueline changed for the final time.

Saturday morning, after another fevered night of sex, Jaeckel had sat Jacki down for a special talk.

“Jacki, listen carefully,” he said.

Jacki’s eyes fixed on his, going wide and blank. “Yes, Martin.”

“Does Dr. Keller’s bank have Saturday hours?” he asked.

“Yes, Martin,” Jacki said. “There’s a branch right near her place that’s open till two P.M. on Saturdays. How come?”

“I’m going to give you another hypo of serum,” Jaeckel responded. “Don’t take it right away. Drive to that bank and make the change in the car. Then, as Dr. Keller, you will go in and pull out all Jacqueline’s money. If anyone asks why, you will say you’re switching banks; if they ask why you’re changing banks, you will make something up, and believe it until you change back to Jacki again.

“Then you will leave the bank and drive back to my place. Your reversions to Jacki are accelerating; if you feel yourself about to change back while you’re driving, pull over and stop until the change is done, then continue driving here with the money. Do you understand, and will you obey? Nod twice if you understand my instructions and will obey them.”

Jacki nodded twice. In a dreamy voice, she added, “Yes, Martin. I understand. I will obey.” She blinked, and her eyes cleared.

Jaeckel nodded, satisfied. His earlier tests had shown that Dr. Keller would obey commands given to Jacki. Soon, he’d have access to almost every penny she owned.

He’d have to write off her Drexel retirement account, of course. The way things were going, Dr. Keller would be gone forever long before the paperwork necessary to cash that out could be processed—and besides, doing so might raise questions. He sighed; it wasn’t that important.

The withdrawal went off without a hitch. When the teller asked why Jacqueline was closing out her accounts, she said she would be switching banks because she was moving out of state, beyond their coverage area. If the teller had any doubts about that explanation, she didn’t choose to pursue them. Dr. Jacqueline Keller left the bank she’d used for the past seven years, and was never seen again in public.

Jaeckel’s warning about her change back to Jacki was prescient. Halfway back to Martin’s house, Jacqueline suddenly felt an overpowering vertigo. She barely managed to swerve her car over into the breakdown lane before a shattering burst of pain and ecstasy swept through her. She arched her back, squeezed her eyes shut, and opened her mouth in a silent scream.

Then it was over. Jacki opened her eyes, drew a deep breath which popped three buttons off a blouse which had better fit Dr. Keller’s less well endowed frame, and eased her car back into traffic.

After her return to Jaeckel’s place, Jacki and the mad doctor disposed of Dr. Keller’s car. Jacki and the doctor took their cars and drove to a wooded area upstate. There, Jacki drove into the woods and got out of the car, and Dr. Jaeckel blew it up with a homemade bomb. The resulting fire blackened fifty acres of woodland, but when it was over, nothing remained of the car which would tell anyone who might have owned it. Martin Jaeckel and Jacki Hyde then drove back in Jaeckel’s car.

On Sunday, Jacki reluctantly took another shot of the serum. When Dr. Keller re-emerged, she looked defeated.

“You’ve won,” she said dully. “Damn you. I can’t fight anymore. You’ve taken it all.” Then, for just a moment, an ember of defiance flared. “I hope you get what’s coming to you, Jaeckel. You’re a monster. I hope you die a monster’s death, just like your goddamn ancestor.”

Jaeckel only laughed. Jacqueline hung her head. She didn’t even try to make a run for it, though Martin hadn’t bothered to tie her up. What would be the point?

Only forty-five minutes later, she shuddered and flowed, and Jacki Hyde was back.

The next day, when Jaeckel gave her a shot of the serum, nothing happened. Even after a second injection, she remained in her Jacki Hyde identity.

It was over.

“Jacqueline Keller is dead,” he announced theatrically. “Long live Jacki Hyde!”

“And Jacki Juggs,” Jacki responded, grinning lewdly and undulating.

Martin and Jacki shared a victory toast. “Chateau Margaux 1849,” Martin said, holding up his half-empty glass. “My ancestor Horatio toasted his success with this same vintage after the first time he transformed himself. Since then, it’s become a family tradition—although in your case, I chose to wait until the change was permanent. And now that time has come.”

The rest of that day, and much of the night, passed in steamy celebration.

The sudden disappearance of Dr. Jacqueline Keller was investigated carefully by the police. The case was never solved. Despite their similar first names, no connection was ever drawn between Dr. Keller’s mysterious vanishing and the abrupt appearance of the gorgeous Jacki Hyde as the unlikely girlfriend of Dr. Martin Jaeckel.

Eventually, Jaeckel and Hyde married. The jokes which had surrounded their relationship from the moment Martin’s co-workers learned of it never bothered him; when he heard them, he simply smiled. To all appearances, their marriage is a perfect one. They never argue; Martin Jaeckel’s beautiful wife adores him, and does whatever he tells her to. As Jacki Juggs, Jacki became the star attraction at the Golden Cockatoo Lounge. The opposition of its previous star, Delilah Duos, ceased to be a problem after Martin took the opportunity to inject her with the same mind-numbing agent he’d used to snare Dr. Keller back at the very beginning. Under its influence, she was as receptive to suggestion as Jacqueline had been, and readily absorbed his instructions to accept Jacki. After a few more treatments, in fact, Delilah became Jacki’s devoted admirer. Eventually, the two of them began starring together in a sizzling two-woman act, “JJ & DD,” which toured the country and was recorded for video distribution. Their website, jjdd.wow.com, became quite popular. The money Jacki is making has made Dr. Jaeckel rich enough to take an early retirement from Drexel Pharmaceuticals.

Jacki recently retired from performing, at least temporarily. She and Martin Jaeckel are expecting their first child. Tests indicate it will be a boy.