The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Okay, so, explain this whole ‘Battle Hookers’ thing to me again, will you?” Scott Pringle asked his companion as he walked into the hallway leading to his office. “Is it science, or magic, or some kind of... I don’t know.. hyper evolved state of humanity, like the X-men of something?”

Sarah chuckled, rolling her eyes. “Well, in the case of Jenny and Kate, it was magic. Kate casts a spell on Jenny and turned her into a Battle Hooker. As for the rest... I dunno. The writer didn’t exactly go in depth about the reason behind their powers, he was more focused on the mechanics of it, how it worked, what it was used for, and the effects of the changes they made to each other. And it’s been a while since he posted a new chapter.” She grinned as Scott opened his office door. “Besides, it’s a fictional story, meant for entertainment, not to be dissected and picked apart on a scientific basis of comparison.”

Scott smirked, about to comment back, when he glanced inside the room. “Ah. Well, what a nice surprise! Dean Dixon, good morning. And you too, Raoul. What can I do for you?”

“Ah, Professor Pringle. Prompt as always. Did you take the scenic route to work today?” Miranda glanced past him to the lovely young brunette, and frowned. “I have a matter of some importance to discuss with you this morning, Pringle, so you should have your student wait outside.”

“I’m not his student, Ms. Dixon,” Sarah said abruptly, stepping forward. Scott reached out his hand, and she took it, clasping it in her own. She smiled thinly at the obnoxious woman that had sent her running out in tears the week before. “Though he IS teaching me a few things.”

Well well. Interesting! Miranda noted idly. If his head wasn’t already on the chopping block, fraternizing with a student half his age would be the nail in his coffin! It’s a shame my own situation is so stressful right now I can barely enjoy watching him squirm.

“Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of Sarah, Dean,” Scott said firmly, still smiling. Miranda merely sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Very well then. Let’s dispense with the niceties, shall we?” the Dean responded, standing up from the couch she’d been sitting on. “I am here to officially inform you that your services at this institution will no longer be needed,” she said with a vicious little smile. “You are being terminated, with possible criminal charges issued pending the findings of an investigation into the missing funds from the Science Department’s account.”

Scott glanced at Sarah, who merely raised an eyebrow. “Really?” Scott asked, laying his briefcase down flat on his desk. “Criminal charges? Hmmm. That seems a bit excessive, don’t you think? I mean, I don’t think I’d fancy a stint behind bars.” Miranda and Raoul glanced at each other in disbelief at his reaction.

“Hey, man, did you hear what she said?” Raoul replied, standing up as well. “You’re over! Done! Through! It doesn’t matter whether or not you’d fancy being locked up in jail, it’s a forgone conclusion! You stole money from the University, and we have the proof! The transactions originated from your office computer—”

“Yes, well, things aren’t always as they seem,” Scott replied calmly, sliding the latches on his suitcase, popping the lid. “First of all, assuming the funds were diverted from my office computer in the corner—which I’m sure they were if you have ‘proof’—then obviously I left a trail of some kind.” He took a small stack of papers from his briefcase, sliding one across the desk to the Dean and her lackey. “Strangely enough, while there are several accounts of my computer logging into the University node during the times that the funds were apparently transferred, there doesn’t seem to be any record of my computer ever logging back out of the node.” Scott grinned, noticing the way Raoul stiffened. “From the looks of this printout, taken less than an hour ago, it would seem that I am still logged into the node. Yet, my computer is clearly in standby mode. Isn’t that... strange?” Miranda turned to glare at Raoul.

“Yeah, so?” Raoul replied defensively, taking a step away from his lover. “You probably just... logged into the node with a different computer at home through remote access, and used your desktop as a gateway!”

“Yeah, I’m sure SOMEBODY did just that,” Sarah sniffed derisively, crossing her arms. “That would certainly muddy the waters, wouldn’t it? Logging in to the node by proxy... you’d definitely have to know your way around a mainframe in order to do something like that and not leave a trace.” She smiled again, glancing sidelong at the computer technician. “Say, Raoul, you’re pretty handy with computers, aren’t you?”

Raoul scowled, leaning forward to frown at Sarah. “And just who... are you, anyway, girl? I know you from somewhere, don’t i?”

“Enough of this!” Miranda growled, slamming a hand down hard on the desk. “You can preen and posture all you want Pringle, but the fact of the matter is you’re guilty! I gave you ample opportunity to come clean about your involvement but you turned me down. Well, now you’ve only yourself to blame for the predicament you’re in—” When both Scott and Sarah burst into laughter, she bristled. “What the HELL is so goddamn funny?!?”

“I’m sorry, Miranda,” Scott said after a moment, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. We hadn’t really planned to drag this out or anything, but when I opened the door and saw you both sitting in here waiting... I just... I indulged my theatrical side a bit.” Taking out the rest of the papers from the briefcase, he pushed them over to Miranda. “It’s over, Miranda. Your entire little embezzlement scheme, and your plan to frame me. I have proof of my own that shows where I was at the times of the fund transfers, as well as the names and numbers of several people willing to collaborate my story.”

He stepped back away from the pair, rejoining Sarah, who had moved to the office door. “You’ll notice I also have photographic evidence of you and Raoul here in my office, using my computer after hours just the other day. The image is time stamped, by the way. After your little ‘fishing expedition’ in my office the other day, I had a friend of mine do some checking of his own. Finally, through no small bit of detective work, and the help of a few female ‘associates’ of my friend Sarah, I was able to track down the account that the money was transferred to.”

“WHAT?!?” Raoul yelled, stunned, grabbing the sheet of paper, scanning it quickly, before tossing it back to the desk, shaking his head. “That... cannot be! No way! There’s no way a little shit like you could find out where... wait. Wait a second...” He frowned, glancing over at Sarah again. “You said something about ‘friends’ of yours? Who are you, again?”

“That’s impossible!” Miranda yelled angrily, glaring at the full color photograph of her working on the desktop computer across the room. She snarled. “How in the hell did you do this? There is no way you could have set all of this up, no way you could have known we’d be in your office!”

“Who are you?” Raoul asked again, walking past Miranda to stare at Sarah. “And who are these associates of yours?” He growled in frustration. “I’m sure i know you from somewhere! I never forget a face, and there is something about yours... that strikes a chord with me.”

“Well, maybe you’d remember me better,” Sarah said, using a low deep husky voice, shifting her body language, “if I were spread out before you, naked, with a bright red wig and my legs spread wide. Would you like me that way... big boy?” she asked, blowing him a kiss. Raoul gasped, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. Giggling, she turned to Miranda. “I’ll bet you never knew Raoul liked to get a little ‘action’ on the side, did you Dean? From what I hear, he’s had pretty much every girl on the block between Fifth Street and Central Avenue. Unfortunately, Raoul’s idea of pillow talk to is to brag about how smart and clever, and wealthy he is... not to mention where all the money he’s shelling out comes from.”

“RAOUL!!” Miranda screeched, whirling around to glare at her soon-to-be ex-lover.

“Fucking bitch!” Raoul roared, reaching out for Sarah’s throat. He grunted, however, as Scott easily caught his wrist, holding him in check. He growled, trying to pull free, only to find himself held in a seemingly unbreakable grip. Unfazed, Sarah walked past him to stand in front of Miranda, who continued to glare at her with murder in her eyes.

“It must be tough, knowing that your lover was so unsatisfied with you that he has to go out and pay for sex,” she said with a gleeful smirk. “That, and the fact that the only reason he was with you in the first place was for the money.” She moved deftly to the side as Miranda tried to slap her, grabbing her wrist and twisting it none too gently. “Now, now, Ms. Dixon, let’s try and be civil here. Use your words, not your fists.”

“I’ll give you a few words, you fucking skank!” Miranda snarled, trying to pull her aching hand free. “Let go of me this instant, before I call campus security!”

“Don’t bother,” Scott replied, finally releasing Raoul who rubbed tenderly at his arm. “I already called them on my way to the office. I believe they’re actually waiting right outside the office by now, and have probably heard our entire conversation.” He chuckled softly at the pair’s stricken look. “I ran into a couple of guards on the way in. Seems there was some kind of ‘incident’ here last night, and they’ve been working since six A.M. trying to get it all sorted out.” He shrugged. “Interestingly enough, I also ran into President Johnson, Vice President Reynolds, the University Treasurer, Jack Menlow, and a couple of police officers as well.” Miranda went pale, the blood draining from her face. “We had a nice chat, and I showed them the same files I showed you just now,” going even paler, “which, of course, is what took me so long to get here. Anyway, they agreed to wait for you over in your office, where I’m SURE campus security would be more than happy to escort you.”

“Um, wait a minute, Scott,” Miranda said with a nervous smile. “Um, let’s not be so hasty, alright? Let’s, um... let’s discuss this a bit more... see if we can... um... come to some kind of an agreement!”

“Agreement?” Sarah said in disgust. She released Miranda’s arm, rubbing her hands on her shirt. “You fucking tried to get the Professor fired, tried to frame him for embezzlement, and have him sent to jail... and now that the jig is up, you want to come to some kind of agreement?” She rolled her eyes. “Scott, honey, I know you wanted to just let the police deal with these two and wash your hands of the whole thing, but this bitch needs to really pay! We can’t just let the authorities handle this. With a good lawyer, she might end up with a slap on the wrist and a two year stay at some cushy low security white collar prison!”

“Hmmm.... I dunno,” Scott replied, brow creased in thought. “What do you have in mind, sweetie?”

“Honey? Sweetie?” Miranda scoffed, turning up her nose. “And you have the nerve to criticize me? At least my sleazebag of a lover isn’t some prosti-tot half my fucking age...” Miranda’s smirk lasted approximately two seconds, as a feeling of object terror suddenly swept over her. Her blood ran cold, and her knees went weak as she dropped awkwardly to the floor on her knees. “Wh... wha... what’s... hap... happening?” she asked, shuddering as the intense fear she felt increased by the second. “Whh... what are... you... doing... to... me?”

Scott merely glared at her blandly, letting the stream of pheromones he projected at her do the talking for him. “On second thought, Sarah, go ahead. I’m on board with anything you can come up with. I could care less what she has to say about me, she’s been insulting me for years... but when she insulted you, she crossed the line.” Frowning, he glanced over at Raoul, who merely stood looking at them all as if they were crazy. “What about lover boy over there? He’s as much in this as she is.”

“Oh, don’t worry, honey,” Sarah replied with a soft fiendish laugh. Her hair began to lighten once more, taking on a golden hue., and her eyes flashed. “With him, it’s even more personal. Trust me, love. I have something very special in mind for him as well...”

“Whew! What a night!” ‘Sparkle’, aka, Jacqui Collins stated as she and her best friend Becca left the strip club. “Pretty good crowd for a Monday, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, pretty good,” Becca, or ‘Bombshell’ as the patrons knew her, agreed. “Of course, any night that we can perform in public is a good night.”

Jacqui nodded. Ever since her last encounter with that mysterious man, she’d found a level of pleasure and fulfillment that she could have never imagined existed. She and Rebecca had discovered their inner exhibitionist, and instead of fighting or trying to repress it, they’d embraced it. Working three nights a week at the club provided an outlet for their pent up desires, and as they actually enjoyed stripping and dancing for the crowd, their enthusiasm made them the two more popular and highest earning girls on staff. Not that they did it for the money. They simply wanted to strip; being showered with stacks and stacks of cash for performing was just the icing on the cake.

Heading across the parking lot to Rebecca’s car, Jacqui pulled to a stop. Frowning, she peered closer at the scantily clad woman in the short black miniskirt leaning up against the wall of the club. Seeing hookers in this part of town wasn’t in any way unusual, and Johnny, the owner of the club, tended to turn a blind eye to any of them trolling for business on the property—with the money his girls brought in dancing, he had no problem letting some of the clients relieve their ‘pent up tensions’ with whatever girl they managed to find once they left. It was a thin line between stripper and prostitute, but it WAS a line, one that Johnny rigidly enforced as a way of keeping the cops off his back. The peace of mind of knowing he’d be left alone for running a ‘clean’ joint was worth more to him that the extra money some of the sleazier establishment brought in by skirting that line. So, seeing a tarted-up slut in the back alleyway behind the club was no big shock.

The shock came from the recognition Jacqui felt as they drew close enough to see the woman’s face.

“Oh... my fucking god!! Dean Dixon?!?” Jacqui said in disbelief. The dark haired woman started, looking up with wide eyes at the sound of her name, before quickly looking away again. “Oh shit! It IS you, isn’t it? Hey, Bec... look! It’s Dean Dixon!”

“Well, fuck me with a hockey stick,” Becca said, shaking her head. “I never would have imagined running into you in a place like this... dressed like this.”

Red faced and humiliated, Miranda glared up at the two girls. “Me? What about you two? You just came out of that.. that... place!” she said, gesturing angrily. “And what I’m doing here is none of your damned business!”

Both girls blinked, taken aback for a moment, before glaring hotly at the former Dean. “Oh? So? You think you’re better than us? At least we work INSIDE the building, instead of out in the street, like a homeless person with a sign saying, ‘Will FUCK for food’ or some shit!” She scowled, crossing her arms. “And anyway, why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here in the middle of the night dressed like that?”

Miranda stiffened, her lips tightening. She shook her head rapidly, back and forth, as if fighting something, then with a slight growl, replied. “I’m.... I’m here... to... to....s-s-s-serve... the pleasure... of any... one... who wants me...”

Again, the two girl blinked, glancing curiously at one another. “Excuse me? You’re here to ‘serve the pleasure’ or anyone who wants you? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

The former Dean again attempted to fight the compulsion to speak, and failed. She let out a heavy sigh. “I’m under a compulsion to give myself to anyone who desires me... anyone who is willing to pay for my... services. If you consider that ‘hooking’, then fine, but it’s more than that.” She sighed again, biting her lip. “This compulsion... it means that I serve the complete pleasure of anyone that meets my price... no matter what the demand. I basically become their... their... slave... for the time paid for.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Becca asked. “Why in the world would you actually agree to something like that? Are you that fucked up in the head... no. No, you’re jerking our chains. This is all some kind of stupid joke—”

“Look at me!” Miranda screamed angrily, gesturing wildly with her hands. “Do you think I came all the way out here dressed like THIS as part of a joke?!?” She growled softly. “There are about a thousand different places I’d rather be that here right now... if it wasn’t for that bastard Pringle, and his little bitch—”

“Whoa. Wait a second,” Jacqui cut in. “Pringle? Professor Pringle? He’s responsible for you being here?” She frowned slightly, remembering all too well that it was a verbal slight against the Professor overheard by one of his friends that lead to her and Becca’s current situation. Maybe the Dean wasn’t cracked in the head after all. Or, if she was... maybe there was a very good reason why.

Becca, thinking along the same lines, glanced at Jacqui, a slow smile creasing her lips. “So, just to be sure,” she said slowly, “this compulsion you’re under... it means you have to give yourself to anyone that pays for you... that you become their slave? That you will do ANYTHING they tell you do you, anything at all?”

Miranda’s eyes widened slightly. “Um... yes... that is... I mean...”

“And what IS your price, Miss Dixon?” Jacqui asked, grinning evilly as well. “How much to spend a few hours with you?”

A pained expression swept over Miranda’s face. “F... fi... fifty... dollars...” she replied with difficulty.

Jacqui reached into her purse and took out a large wad of bills tied with a rubber band, peeling out exactly fifty dollars. “Here you go, Miss Dixon,” she said cheerfully. “Fifty big ones. Guess that mean’s your mine for the next couple of hours, huh?”

“Yes, Mistress,” the former Dean replied in a soft voice, her eyes glazing over. “I belong to you now...”

“Good. Then come along, slut,” Jacqui said, turning on her heel, heading towards her car. “I don’t want to spend the rest of the night here in the parking lot. I wanna get home and take my newest little toy for a ‘test drive’.” Moving obediently, Miranda followed along after her new owners...

“So, basically, it took most of the night to get everything straightened out,” Scott related to Karen and Liz as the four of them dined on Chinese take-out in Karen’s kitchen six days later. “I wasn’t exactly comfortable using our abilities that way to influence the University officials and the police, but it wasn’t anything really invasive. Their minds are still their own, their memories just got a little... shuffled,” he finished with a shrug. Sarah giggled.

“Sorry. My guy is still a bit sensitive about the whole ‘power corrupts’ axiom. And despite the fact that you ladies told him half a dozen times that you forgive him for the changes you made to you once he sat you down and explained it all, he still suffers pangs of guilt.”

“Which, of course, is totally ridiculous!” Liz said with a grin, snatching up a pot sticker with a pair of chopsticks. “If anyone should be upset about having their brains scrambled, it should be me, and hey, I’m not only fine with it, I’m grateful for it!” She chewed and swallowed before turning to face her friend. “Scotty, please, listen to me and believe what I am telling you, ‘kay? I’m grateful for how you changed me. I was a real bitch before, okay? I admit it. I was pushy, arrogant, selfish, and bossy... and it was ruining my life. I was wrecking things with Mistress Karen,” she said, giving her lover’s hand a gentle squeeze, which she returned, “not to mention all my other past relationships. It’s the reason why the three of you are pretty much the only ones I have as close friends. You gave me humility... and perspective. You showed me how wonderful it can be to simply... let go, and let someone else be the boss.” She sighed softly, in memory. “I thank you for letting me realize what happened, making me aware of how I’ve changed, but even if you undid all the changes you’d made to my psyche, I would continue living just the way I do right now.”

Scott let out a small sigh. In truth, he had spent many an hour agonizing over the changes he, as Buddy, had made to those around him, and not just to Elizabeth. Since joining with Buddy, becoming reintegrated as one personality again, he found a lot of his thoughts and feelings had changed somewhat, but not his sense of responsibility. Over the past week, he and Sarah had worked extensively to undo all the damage Professor Farnsworth had caused, breaking his hold over his minions, altering memories in some cases, or completely repressing them in others. He’d even obtained a list of all the people Farnsworth had enslaved over the years, tracking them down one by one and breaking their shackles as well. If nothing else, it helped to ease his conscience about the abuses he himself had committed before gaining control over his inhibitions.

Still, there were a few acts that he felt absolutely no guilt over.

“So, you didn’t tell us yet,” Karen said between bites of her sweat and sour chicken, “what did you decide to do with Professor Farnsworth? I can’t imagine you let a psycho like Farnsworth simply walk away. If nothing else, his knowledge of your formula makes him dangerous.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about Farnsworth anymore, that’s for sure,” Scott assured them. “Sarah gave him some very specific instructions before she returned his mind to him to make sure he would no longer be a threat.”

“Yeah,” Sarah harrumphed, tossing her hair, “but if you hadn’t insisted on it, I would have left him as a mindless zombie. It’s no more than he deserved, after all.”

“Maybe so,” Scott said, taking a bite of his Mandarin Orange chicken, “but I believe in letting the punishment fit the crime. And trust me, what he’s enduring is much better a punishment that living out his days as a mindless husk...”

“For the last fucking time, someone bring me a goddamn phone!” Nicholas Farnsworth shouted, pounding his grey skinned fists furiously against the padded walls. “This is an outrage! I demand to speak to my lawyer! Do you people know who I am? I’m very well connected, dammit! I have friends in high places! You can’t fucking keep me here like this!”

After a moment, the door to his cell opened, and two large burly men dressed all in while approached him. “Damn you both! Are you fucking deaf or just retarded? I am Associate Professor Nick Farnsworth from the University, and I demand to speak to someone in charge!”

“Here you go, Professor,” the dark skinned man, Fred, said amicably, pushing forward a small Styrofoam tray with a cold sandwich and lukewarm French fries towards him. “Got to eat up to keep up your strength after all.”

“Heh. Save your breath, Fred,” the ruddy faced auburn haired orderly replied, shaking his head. “This retard doesn’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Look at him! He’s just as likely to try and wear that sandwich like a hat as to actually eat it.”

“WHAT?!?” Nick roared, furious. “You two pricks dare talk down to me like I’m not even here, like I’m some mentally challenged imbecile?” With a growl, he slapped the tray out of the larger man’s hands, and charged forward, attempting to reach for the redhead’s neck, only to be shoved back, hard, into the soft padded wall.

“Gee, Alex, looks like you upset him,” Fred noted calmly, while his partner grabbed the angry professor, pulling out a pair of restraints. “I told you he can understand us. You’ve read his file the same as me. That laboratory accident that turned him all grey and wrinkly may have damaged his brain, but it certainly didn’t make him into a vegetable. The doctors all think maybe he suffered some kind of stroke to the language center of his brain or something. He can understand what we’re saying just fine, it’s just his own speech that comes out all garbled.”

That got his attention. “Garbled? Garbled? What are you fools talking about?” Nick shouted as the orderly shackled him to his bed. “I’m speaking simple English, you cretins! English! Can’t you understand me?”

“Heh, maybe you’re right,” Alex said after a moment, stepping back to appreciate his work. “All he keeps saying is ‘Ugga Bugga’ over and over, but the way he’s spacing it out, pausing between words and all...” he shrugged. “Maybe you’re right. Doesn’t do us a lick of good though, if he can’t communicate.”

“Ugga Bugga?” Nick said softly, as the pieces finally began to settle into place. “Oh fuck... oh fuck me! That bitch!” He remembered well enough the battle of wills he’d lost against Pringle’s under-aged slut, feeling his mind melt under the onslaught, fading away into a soft peaceful grey place, only to wake up here, several hours later, in what was obviously a sanitarium. He’d thought himself lucky, his thoughts and memories all intact, that the girl had been foolish in believing him soundly defeated and merely turned him over to the authorities.

But the fucking bitch DID make a few changes after all when she was inside my head! he realized in horror. I can still think and reason, but whatever I try and say comes out as gibberish and nonsense! It doesn’t even matter that I know how to recreate the damned formula! Even if I were to somehow miraculously get access to the necessary chemicals and restore my powers of persuasion, I can’t command anyone to release me if they can’t understand a word I’m saying! Suddenly, he had a thought. Words... maybe I can’t SAY what I want to say, but I can still write! I just need to get them to give me a pencil and paper!

“Hey! Hey shitheads!” he yelled out loud, getting the two orderlies attention. Once they were looking, he mimed writing something with his hands, gesturing wildly, hoping against hope that the obviously stupid cretins would get the message.

“What’s he doing?” Alex asked, frowning.

“Looks like he’s.... writing something?” Fred said after a moment. “Writing! Hey! That’s an idea. Maybe he can communicate with us by writing out what he can’t say. Alex, unbuckle one of his hands. I wanna see if my idea is right.” Taking a pencil and a sheet of paper from his clipboard, he handed them to Nick. “Okay, buddy... just write out what you’re trying to say. Okay? C’mon, you can do it.”

“Of course I can. you fucking ignoramus!” Nick growled, carefully writing out a simple request: ‘Let me up’. Smiling smugly, he handed the piece of paper back to the orderly, who stared at it for a moment before sighing deeply.

“Heh. Well, I guess maybe I was wrong after all,” Fred replied, handing the paper over to Alex. “Damn. I was so sure he was trying to tell us something.”

“Yeah, well, it was a good try, pal,” the redhead replied, tossing the paper onto Nick’s bed. “Anyway, we’re orderlies. We just feed and wash the loonies. Let Doc Samson try and root around inside their heads. Speaking of which, we’ve wasted enough time with this guy, we need to finish our rounds.” With that, he and Fred left, locking the door behind them.

“What the fuck?” Nick said in disbelief. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Reaching down for the piece of paper, he shifted his position, lifting his legs, until the edge of the paper slid into range of his free hand. Picking up the paper, he stared at the words he’d written, stunned and disbelieving, shaking his head. “No. No. No, no no no no no no!!” he yelled, refusing to believe it. A hysterical scream broke free from the back of his throat as the paper slipped free from his fingers fluttering down to the floor... a scream that continued to issue forth for a very long time.

On the floor, the note sat just where it had been dropped, the words ‘Ugga Bugga’ written in clear and concise letters...

“Okay, but what about Raoul? What happened to Dean Dixon’s perverted ex-boyfriend?” Liz asked. “Did he end up behind bars?”

Sarah laughed heartily. “Oh, believe me, what happened to him was much much worse than prison!”

Raoul de la Vega groaned softly, rolling over onto his side. He had a vicious hangover, and a strange taste in his mouth. Groaning again, he slid out of bed, rubbing his eyes lightly as he made his way over to the bathroom. Flicking on the light and turning on the water, he bent down over the sink and splashed water over his face to help wake himself up. Sighing, feeling a bit better, he opened his eyes.

And screamed.

“MADRE DE DIOS!” he yelled, staggering back, gawking at the reflection of himself in the mirror. Gone was the handsome and suave visage that he’d known all his life, the roguish face that had broken a hundred hearts and seduced a thousand more. In its place sat a decidedly feminine incarnation, a hazel eyed woman with long feminine lashes, bee stung lips, and thick, full black longer than it had ever been in his entire life. But as bad as the face was, the body beneath it was worse.

“I’m a fucking woman!” he cried, shaking his head in denial, even as the image in the mirror did the same. Despair settled over him like a cloud as the memories returned: of that day at the University, where that demon Pringle and his pet succubus had bewitched him; of his many many trips to disreputable plastic surgeons who’d helped him ‘release the woman he was inside’; the trips to the mall with his best friend Donna, who for some reason said she sympathized with him completely over what he was going through, and even helped introduce him to some specialty shops; and finally, the clients, the many, many, men he’d seduced and taken home, the ones who had been outraged at learning what kind of ‘woman’ he really was, slapping him around before leaving in disgust... and the ones who hadn’t cared, who’d stayed behind, making him suck them off before they’d taken him, deep and hard, up the ass.

As always, he’d loved it while it was happening. Whatever the devil spawn had done to him, they’d made sure of that much. Each night he experienced the highest level of bliss he could imagine. And each day, discovering again anew, as if for the first time, what had happened, he found himself in the seventh layer of hell.

“Aaaaaahhhhhhhh!” he/she screamed, sinking to his/her knees onto the cold bathroom floor. The tears started then, and it was nearly more than he could bare. Yet he knew that within an hour, the memory would have faded away like a bad dream, and Raoul de la Vega will had vanished, leaving behind ‘Raylene’ de la Vega, party girl, sexy vixen, and professional cocksucker.

“Dammit bitch, shut the hell up, willya?” a masculine voice grumbled from the bed. Shit! The John was still there, sleeping! Raoul clamped a hand over his mouth, shuddering as memories of a night he longed to forget poured into his head. Crawling over to the toilet, he lifted the lid just as the vomit began to pour out. The man in the bedroom merely chuckled. “Damn bitches... can’t hold... fucking liquor...” He grunted, rolling over onto his stomach, falling back asleep again.

Inside the bathroom, Raoul shook with silent sobs. This wasn’t the way his life was supposed to be! He was a man, goddammit! He was supposed to be in charge! He was supposed to be the taker, not the one taken from! Only a few days ago, he’d had it all, living la Vida Loca as Miranda Dixon’s attaché, sponging off of her, siphoning off own share of the money they’d embezzled together, and enjoying all the pussy he wanted on the side. And then, in the space of an hour, everything had turned to shit...

“Wow, Sarah,” Karen whistled softly, looking at Sarah in a whole new light. “You have a real vindictive streak. I... actually kind of like that!”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Scott said seriously, gesturing to the corner. “A word of friendly advice—never get on my sweetheart’s bad side.”

Karen glanced over at the corner, following his gaze. There, far away from everyone else, Miranda Dixon knelt down on her knees, staring at the floor. At least, she appeared to be. With the black leather bondage hood and gag covering her face, it was hard to tell. Still, Karen had to admit, the woman looked quite fetching with the extremely tight corset squeezing her waist, thrusting her breasts up and forward, which was aided by the bondage sleeve binding her arms behind her back, keeping her posture straight and true. The only other item of ‘clothing’ she wore, if such could be considered an article of clothing, was a studded leather dog collar around her throat, with a leash attached to it. Despite all that she’d done to Scott over the past several years, Karen found herself feeling a slight bit of sympathy towards the woman.

“You know, I was serious about my offer to take Ms. Dixon off your hands for you, if you wanted,” Karen said with a sigh. “Especially after the little ‘test drive’ you had her give Lizzie and me. I mean, it just seems kind of a shame to have a girl with a tongue that talented going unused!”

Sarah laughed. “I wouldn’t know about that, myself. After the way she treated Scotty and me, I wouldn’t let her even lick my asshole, let along my pussy. And considering the fact that she couldn’t even keep her own boy toy satisfied, I assumed the problem was her technique. But maybe it was just the fact that she was just such a raging bitch.” She shrugged. “At any rate, Scott and I won’t touch her, well, other than to tease and torment her... so if you really want her, it’s okay with me, if it’s okay with him.” She glanced over at Scott.

“Well, I still think she should suffer,” he said after a moment’s consideration. “Especially considering the effort it took for me to straighten out things with the police and perfume company.” Which was true enough. No one was actively searching for Miranda Dixon anymore, though a warrant for her arrest was still active. The moment she resurfaced, however, the heat would come down on her like never before. Scott and Sarah were, for all intents and purposes, her keepers; if she dared to leave them, a single phone call would be all it took to have the police and FBI scouring the country for her. Her situation had been explained to her in graphic detail, and despite the daily abuse they dealt her, despite the humiliation and shame of her existence, Miranda endured and stayed with her captors. After all, she had nowhere else to go.

“So... you really want her?” Scott asked, dubiously. “Excuse me for saying so, Karen, but for a dominatrix with a fetish for riding crops, sometimes you’re a real softy,”

Sarah and Liz chuckled, but Karen merely rolled her eyes. “Oh don’t worry, I intend to put her through her paces. I just hate the thought of all that raw potential going to waste.” Her eyes narrowed. “But Scotty, dear,” she said, her voice dripping with sweetness, “if you doubt my strength and focus as a domme, I’d be more than happy to give you your own personal demonstration some time.”

“I, er... um,” Scott stuttered, glancing around nervously as Liz ad Sarah burst into renewed laughter. “I didn’t mean it like that, Karen. You know I have the greatest respect for you—” Unable to hold back any longer, Karen burst into laughter as well.

“Sorry, hon, just busting your chops a little,” Karen replied through the giggles. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it. You’re just so cute when you’re squirming.” Wiping the tears, she gave him a grin. “So... does this mean I can have her?” Scott rolled his eyes.

“If you promise to make her wait at least until the end of the week before you let her cum the first time, then sure.”

“Great!” Karen beamed. “Liz, my pet, looks like we have ourselves a new playmate. Be a dear and take her back into the bedroom and get her ready to play.”

“Of course, Mistress!” Elizabeth said eagerly.

As the blonde haired submissive guided their new pet into the back, Scott yawned and stretched, getting to his feet. “Well, Karen, this has been fun, but we should probably call it a night. It’s late, and Sarah and I have an early morning tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I would think so, considering you start your new position as the Dean of the Science Department,” Karen said with a smile, “and you, young lady, have an exam to prepare for, as I recall.”

They each hugged and said their goodbyes, then Scott and Sarah left. They drove along silent for a moment before Sarah spoke again. “So... did you make a decision yet?”

“A decision? You mean, you still want to go through with it?”

Sarah nodded. “I told you I was serious. I think it would be good for us... both of us. And, well, it seems to work out well enough for Karen and Lizzie.”

Scott sighed softly, pulling off to the side of the road. “A slave? After everything that happened to us that night, after the way Farnsworth nearly made you submit to him, you’re actually asking me to MAKE you submit to me?”

“It’s not like that,” Sarah said, looking away. “I mean... well... sort of, I suppose. Scott... these past few weeks with you have been the best in my entire life. I love you, completely, and without reservation. I really do. But... I also learned a lot about myself. I am... a submissive at heart, just like Elizabeth.,” she said slowly. “That first night when I crawled into your bed, and gave myself to you... it was special. And I don’t mean sexually, though it certainly was that, too. It was just somehow... fitting.” She frowned. “I can’t really explain it. It just... when I think about what Lizzie is to Karen, and how Karen takes care of her, even the way we’ve been keeping the former Dean on the leash... I feel so... envious. And more than a little turned on.”

“Okay. So, well, that’s how Sarah feels,” Scott said carefully, “but what about your... ahem... alter-ego? The woman that saved me and turned Nicholas into a vegetable was anything BUT submissive. If anything, I’d think she would be more at home dominating me that submitting to me—”

“You’re wrong,” Sarah said softly. “Not you. Never you. Okay, so... maybe I’m a ‘switch’, then. Maybe there’s a part of me that DOES like to take control now and again, that gets off on the idea of having a beautiful woman or a handsome man groveling at my feet. Even so, I could NEVER do that with you, Scott. Even then, when I’d accidentally broken you along with Farnsworth... in the midst of my fever, all instinct and feeling and emotion, I couldn’t accept you that way. Not you... not my Master.” She leaned over and kissed him lightly. “Yes. Master. That just sounds... and feels.... mmmmm.” She shivered slightly. “If there was anyone in the world I would ever submit to, freely, it would be you. Only with you can I completely let go, and just surrender all that I am. And... I want that, I really really do...” turning to look him square in the eye, “but only if it’s what you want as well. If you don’t like the idea... then I promise to let it drop, and never mention it again—”

Scott stopped her speech by pulling her into a kiss. “I didn’t say I didn’t like the idea,” he said after a moment. “I asked if you were sure this was what you wanted. And... well, I’m not as forceful as Karen, and I’m not a big fan of inflicting any pain stronger than a spanking,” he said, blushing slightly, “but, well... I am willing to give it a shot if you are.”

“Oh yes, please, Daddy!” she said, hugging him tightly. “I really really do! I can’t wait to get home, and show you just how much I really want this!”

“Yes, well, the first thing we need to talk about is this ‘Daddy’ fixation,” he replied, blushing deeper. “I’ll be your Master, Lord, Sir, or whatever you want to call me, but ‘Daddy’ has got to go. The last thing I want to be reminded of when I’m with you is the obvious difference in our ages!”

“But Master,” Sarah said with a pout, “I like calling you Daddy. It’s so naughty and sexy, both at the same time.”

“Yes, well, call me Daddy again, and I’ll spank your bottom so hard you won’t be able to sit down for a week!”

“Yes Sir” Sarah replied, glancing down, before smiling again, “...Daddy.”

Scott growled softly, pulling the car back onto the road again. “Oh, baby,” he said, chuckling darkly as he hit the gas, “just wait ‘til I get you home.” Driving along, he frowned slightly, thinking there was something important he was forgetting.

Dr. Brooke Meredith glanced up from her computer terminal as the door to her lab opened. “Package arrived for you, mum,” the boy announced, placing a small rectangular brown paper parcel on the table in front of her. “Just arrived in this morning’s delivery.” The doctor sighed softly.

“Thank you, James,” she said in a soft breathy voice, “but again, I must remind you, that you have you knock before entering the lab! I could have been in the middle of a very important experiment—”

“Yeah, um, sorry ‘bout that, Doctor,” the young man said with a shrug. “Package looked important, so I brought it in straight away. It’s from the States... fellow by the name of Pringle, I believe, from the note with it.” He tossed an opened envelope onto the counter next to the package.

“Note?” Brooke asked, frowning. Brushing a lock of mousy brown hair aside, she tried giving her subordinate her most withering glare. “Now... see here! You can’t just go around reading my personal correspondences like this! It’s... it’s...”

“Sorry,” James replied with a shrug again, virtually unconcerned. “Just needed to check and make sure it was send to the correct locale, after all. Well, Doctor, I’d best let you get back to your work” Tipping his hat slightly, he flashed her a grin, and departed. Dr. Meredith let out a resigned sigh.

No one takes me seriously. It’s like... when I’m in a room, everyone else’s personality just... overshadows mine. I get pushed into the background. And... I’m frankly too shy to make much of a fuss anyway. I don’t like confrontations... I try to avoid them if possible... but still, I wish I could just be a wee bit more... assertive. Removing the letter from the envelope, adjusting her spectacle, she gave the note a proper read.

Dear Merri,

I hope this letter finds you well. I know it’s been a long time since we last spoke or even corresponded, and I know it’s rather sudden to just drop this on you out of the blue, but I have a small problem that I you might be able to help me with. The package I have shipped you contains a sample of a rather unique chemical compound I accidentally created here in my lab. While the contents do not in any way form a health risk, the sample should be considered extremely hazardous. As I have limited means of ascertaining the specific properties of this sample, I hope that you would see fit to perform a complete biochemical analysis for me, to better understand exactly how it interacts with biological systems.

Any help or insight you could provide would be greatly appreciated... but I must insist, and I cannot stress this enough, that you DO NOT SHARE these findings with anyone, colleagues, lab assistants, family or friends. Trust me when I say that it is of VITAL importance that no one else knows about the sample in your possession.

I hate to burden you this way, but you are one of the few people I know capable of performing such an intricate analysis. But more so, you are one of the few people that I trust.

Thanking you in advance,

Scott Pringle, PhD.

“Hmm... curious,” Dr. Meredith murmured softly, opening the box, removing a small slender test tube of liquid from its padded shock-proof container. “Doesn’t look like much. Of course, my dear old friend always had a bit of a flair for the dramatic. Still, better to be safe than sorry.” Moving across the hall to the small isolation chamber, she placed the vial inside the vented airlock, and carefully removed the stopper. Using a hypodermic needle, she carefully withdrew a small sample of the liquid, and withdrew it from the airlock, intent on depositing a few drops into the mass spectrometer. She’d just taken hold of the needle when the door suddenly opened.

“Oh yes, Doctor,” James burst in, surprising her. “I almost forgot to mention—”

“Aaaaahhhh!” Brook cried out in alarm, glancing down at the hypodermic embedded in her left foot. She’d chosen to wear a pair of simple black flats to the lab today instead of her usual tennies, and when she’d dropped the needle in startlement, there was nothing to shield or protect her poor foot. Reaching down, she pulled the needle free, glancing at the now empty containing with dread. Glaring up at the hapless assistant, all the angst and frustration she’d felt at being taken for granted seemed to explode out of her. “JAMES! GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE! RIGHT NOW!”

The blonde haired young man jerked back, nearly staggered by the force of her anger. “Y-y-yes, mum!” he stuttered, swallowing rapidly. “F-f-forgive the.. um... intrusion...” With that, he turned and fled. Panting softly, Dr. Meredith stood back up, trying to slow the rapid beating of her racing heart.

Wow... what the hell was that? I...I’ve never ever said or done anything like that before... in my entire life. A slow smile creased her lips. That felt... really really good. Her vision swam for a moment, as a sudden warmth flooded her being, before settling in the pit of her stomach... and below. Turning back to the secure airlock, she gazed down at the seemingly harmless vial of liquid resting inside. And smiled.

Mmmm. I’m not sure exactly what was in that vial my friend sent me, she thought to herself, brushing back a lock of brownish-reddish hair, but something tells me, I’m really going to like it...