The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Adjusters II: The Greek Fiasco

Jennifer Hansen (1)

“So what you’re saying, then, is that you haven’t gone out since we left for the Holidays?” Daniel Malcolm, his head throbbing in a way that disquieted him, looked at his friend like he had said that he was now subsisting on a diet of crushed glass.

Radhu Krishnamurthy, the friend in question, looked up from his computer keyboard, and nodded. “It so happens that most modern conveniences can be interfaced with remotely—sustenance, laundry, scholarly pursuits—”

“What about classes? I mean, don’t you have to, you know, go in and attend?”

“I signed up for the preliminary trial deployment of the online program in mathematical physics. The administration was pleased enough with my volunteering to provide me with some leeway in terms of course scheduling.”

Daniel shook his head. “You’re nuts! I get stir crazy if I don’t leave my apartment after a day.”

“Then accept this fact as further evidence that you and I are distinct individuals.”

Daniel had no rejoinder. He still had problems at times determining when Radhu was making fun of him. The tall lanky Indian had his own peculiar way of interacting with the world. And while it made him a reliable friend, at times it also challenged clear communication.

Daniel looked at his friend with wonder. Radhu had always been special, the almost stereotypical combination of scary smarts and complete social awkwardness. But it looked much worse now, after Winter Break. When he last saw Radhu before Christmas, the Indian was recovering from a rather intense psychological ordeal suffered at the hand of a white supremacy organization, and it seemed as though he had developed a low-grade agoraphobia.

“So, we’ve established what Radhu’s been doing during Winter Break—replenishing his mad hacker skills. What about you, Daniel?” Serena Banks, sitting on the couch, was smiling. Daniel was about to ask her why she was changing the subject, but the look in her eyes stated that they’d talk about it later. So Daniel, trusting his friend, sighed, and let it go. “We went up to Maine to spend Christmas with Jenn’s mother,” he replied. “It was nice. Lots of snow, lots of food, the usual. Her mother’s ecstatic about our engagement. Couldn’t stop talking about it.”

“You know,” mused Serena, “we never actually celebrated your engagement, did we?”

“Indeed,” chimed in Radhu, “we should organize festivities to assure future matrimonial bliss.”

“Thanks, guys. Sounds like a great idea.” He sighed. “Very exciting times. And a bit scary, too.”

“You have a date yet?”

“No. And there’s no rush. First, graduation, then wedding planning.”

“Daniel, is everything all right?” asked Serena.

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

“You’ve been rubbing your temples for the past five minutes, and frowning.”

Radhu nodded his head, confirming his friend’s observations.

“I have?” Daniel had not noticed. “It’s just a bit of a headache. The change in temperature, I guess. It was noticeably colder in Maine.”

Radhu looked at him, and his eyes grew wide. “I have exactly the remedy that will medicate and mend you, my friend! My mother dispatched me what I think you would qualify as a care package to sustain me over the rigorous winters in this land, and she included a tea from which I can create a draught that will provide succor.” He stood up, and headed to the kitchen. “And yes, it has been unseasonably warm here, contrariwise to expectations and to the chagrin of winter revelers.”

Daniel and Serena enjoyed a moment of silence while Radhu busied himself in the kitchen. The Three Musketeers, as Jenn called them. One for all, and all for one, and all that.

“What about you, Ser? How was your break? I mean, we barely saw you before we left. Just long enough to learn that you were okay and that you had found Marjorie. Now you can give us the details, right?”

The search for Marjorie Duquesne. That quest had kept Serena going through most of the fall semester. A photographer at the Darnell Daily, Marjorie had been Serena’s colleague and friend. In September, she had broken up with her boyfriend and disappeared, only to resurface at random intervals doing rather atypical things such as stripping at the local club and presumably prostituting herself all over town. Serena had asked Daniel and Radhu to help her in her investigation, and together they had managed to track down the name of a man—Snowman—that seemed to connected to Marjorie, or at least seemed to be often present wherever Marjorie was sighted.

“Did you read my Daily article?” asked Serena.

“The one about the couple of head honchos from the New American Deal Association being arrested for running a prostitution ring?” Daniel looked at Radhu, still in the kitchen, from the corner of his eyes, spying a reaction. It was at a NADA party the previous semester, when he and Radhu were looking for Marjorie on a tip that she would be there, that Radhu had come within breathing distance of being viciously castrated. But Radhu barely reacted to the mention of the group, at most blinking. Not a good sign, thought Daniel.

Serena shot Radhu a quick look as well, undoubtedly having had the same thought. “All right. The short version: I found and met with Snowman, who told me he was indeed Marjorie’s pimp of a sort, and he was willing to trade some information in exchange for anonymity and making sure he could disappear without trouble. Seems he had gotten in trouble with some local gangbangers and he wanted out. So I agreed, and he took me to this basement in an abandoned home down in the South Side, where they kept Marjorie, pretty much drugged out of her mind. We managed to get her out of there, and we also grabbed a bunch of documents outlining NADA’s operation. Turns out they had a little side business abducting girls, hooking them up on drugs, then turning them out as prostitutes. They usually went for low-key girls, the loners, the easily missed and easily forgotten. Marjorie was an exception—she had helped me with an article for the Darnell Daily a couple of years back, and they basically wanted revenge. Had they not been caught, they probably would have come after me next. Anyways, with the stuff we found, there was enough to arrest a couple of high officers of NADA, and meanwhile Marjorie is safe and recovering nicely in a small sanatorium down near where her family lives. She’s on a leave of absence from the university, so she’s not going to be back for a long while. She’s pretty messed up. After that, I went down to decompress at my parents. They say hi, by the way.”

Daniel digested the story in silence. “Pretty heavy stuff,” he said finally. “So much for nothing ever happening in small New England towns.”

“Actually,” said Radhu from the kitchen, “various statistics suggest that agglomerations with a population of fewer than a hundred thousand inhabitants have a significantly higher degree of non-violent crime than larger cities.”

Daniel shook his head. “Okay... good to know, I guess. So, what about Delta Iota Kappa, then? They came up at every turn of the investigation.”

Serena shrugged. “Red herring. They had nothing to do with anything. They were actually very happy to have their name cleared. Turns out that fraternities are pretty sensitive about negative publicity these days.”

Daniel nodded to Serena’s left wrist. “And the bracelet?”

Serena lifted her arm, the silver charms bracelet adorning her wrist catching the light, the three charms spelling out the Greek letters Delta, Iota, and Kappa. “Pretty, ain’t it? That was the frat’s way of saying thank you. I think it’s funny more than anything else, frankly. But I’ve grown to like it.”

Daniel recognized the bracelet. Marjorie had one like that, as did Cindy, one of his friends. Cindy said it marked a girl as a DIK girl. She had described it a program sponsored by the Delta Iota Kappa fraternity to recognize the smart and beautiful women on campus by giving them a small scholarship and donating money in their name to charity, as well as extending privileged access to all Delta Iota Kappa events—including the famously exclusive DIK-Bash in the spring. As near as he could tell, the program was shrouded in a veil of secrecy, and only Cindy had ever mentioned anything about being a DIK girl. Marjorie had been a DIK girl, and every member of the serving staff at that ill-fated NADA party—which had included its fair share of oddities before its horrific conclusion—had been a DIK girl. And now, Serena seemed to be a DIK girl. Daniel did not feel comfortable with any of it.

He stared at Serena for a bit longer than necessary. She lifted her eyebrows. “What?”

“Nothing. Just... Well, are you sure it’s a good idea? I mean, maybe everyone’s been a bit quick to dismiss the frat. They did seem to come up left and right during your investigation.”

“Bah, they were just unlucky. A bad string of coincidences.”

“Coincidences? You’re going to let it go at that?”

“What choice do I have? What would like me to do, keep on investigating something that’s already solved? That’d be silly.”

No, thought Daniel, that’d be something that you’d do. Something was wrong here, he did not quite know what. But before he could question her further, Serena looked at her watch, then jerked upright.

“Shit, gotta go. I have a meeting with the Chief. Talk to you guys later?” She smoothed down her skirt.

Daniel nodded. “Sure. By the way, you look nice, Ser.”

She smiled, did a little pirouette, showing off the tight—but still very professional—beige pencil skirt she wore, which contrasted perfectly with the black girl’s mocha skin. With a pair of tall suede boots that drew the eye, Daniel suspected that his friend would distract many a reporter at the school paper. It was certainly distracting Radhu, who had returned from the kitchen with a steaming mug for Daniel, and was trying hard not to stare at her legs and the shape of her rear in the skirt. It was of course an open secret that Radhu had a massive crush on Serena, but had always been too shy to do anything about it He mostly did the unrequited love thing, from afar.

As if on cue, Serena stepped up to Radhu and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Take care of yourself, big guy. And do try to catch some air. I have no idea how you’re going to give up that cherry of yours if you’re not out there mingling.”

Daniel saw the flash of longing in his Indian friend’s eyes, but it was quickly masked. “That is one excuse for the continued existence of adult online services.”

Serena smiled, patted him on the shoulder. “Until they shut down craigslist, dear. Better move quickly.”

Waving to Daniel, she trotted out the front door, with Radhu staring at her perfect body the whole way.

“I still say you should talk to her,” said Daniel, settling back into the couch.

Radhu looked at his friend, and handed him the tea. “Daniel, the moment is ill-chosen for this particular topic of conversation, so I would be pleased if you could elect not to pursue it.”

Daniel shrugged in his best innocent manner, and cradled the tea. “Thanks for the tea. But I didn’t take you for a naturopath. I thought it was all science all the way with you?”

“My mother’s tea is backed by the rocks of science that are empirical observation and control groups: those of us in the family that drank her draught improved, those that did not did not.”

Daniel smiled, took a sip from the tea, tried not to grimace at the bitter taste, then pointed at the computer. “If you say so. Now, you got any game we could while away the time with on that box of yours?”

Radhu grinned like a little boy.

* * *

Two hours later, Daniel was on his way back to his and Jenn’s apartment. Walking in the unseasonably warm weather of late January—he only had a light jacket on, and it was already too much—he felt good. He had to give props to Radhu’s mother. His headache was gone. His mouth still had the awful taste of the concoction Radhu had prepared, though, and he felt like he was skipping lightly over the ground more than he was walking, but his headache was gone.

He was happy. Granted, one of his closest friends no longer ventured outside of his apartment, and his other closest friend, well, it was impossible to tell whether she was okay. In all outward appearances, she was her usual self, but there was an undefinable feeling that she was more—distant? Perhaps it’s just the strange events of the previous semester warping my perspective, he reflected.

But despite all of that, everything was good. He and Jenn were on track to graduate, they both had positions lined up for the fall—Jenn with a writing scholarship at UT Austin, and him near Austin working for a politically-engaged nonprofit—and of course they were now engaged. He had found the perfect girl, and he had staked his claim. Jennifer Hansen. Or was it her who had staked her claim? He did not know, did not care. When he had met her two years earlier, he had been taken by the smart, warm, and charming English student with the body of a goddess toned by years of dancing.

By the time he was unlocking the door to their apartment, the feeling of skipping that had accompanied him had morphed into one of floating. And the world presented itself through a haze, one that affect not only his vision but also his touch. What was in that tea? he wondered. He knew enough to realize that he was having a sort of drug trip.

He made his way inside. He and Jenn had found a good-sized unit, the second floor of a small two-story house whose ground floor almost counted as a half-basement, nestled as it was in the side of a small hill. Despite his initial nervousness about living with his girlfriend, it was going extremely well. Which boded well for their future. Of course, he had been teased mercilessly by his friends, who insisted that he would soon be a pussy-whipped domesticated boyfriend, but it was at worst good-natured ribbing. Everybody liked Jenn.

Still fighting through the haze, and now having some difficulty maintaining his balance, Daniel climbed up the half-dozen steps that led to the living room, way too large for the size of the apartment, but that both he and Jenn had found was one of the main features of the place. The sun was now streaming through several windows that made it one of the brightest rooms that Daniel had ever seen, and the light was nearly blinding.

Jenn’s laptop was on the coffee table, its screensaver rotating a shifting pattern on the screen, a shifting pattern that in his current state fascinated him. Daniel sat on the couch, staring at the concentric circles bouncing about the laptop screen. He had no idea how long he remained staring at the swirls, but after ten minutes, he was half-lying on the couch, supported on an elbow. The haze had become so thick that it grayed out even the sunlight. After fifteen minutes, he was lying down completely, sleeping.

* * *

Daniel is wandering through a large house, full of people, and it does not take long for him to recognize it as the NADA house, where he and Radhu went last semester to find Marjorie. Radhu is not with him. He is alone.

There is a party going on, full swing. People dancing, jostling, kissing. Everyone is in costume, their faces covered with everything from simple cardboard cutouts held with strings to elaborate quasi-Venetian masks. Bikini-clad girls on stilts are walking around serving drinks in impossibly long glasses, strings dangling from their wrists and trailing on the floor. Dwarves are following them, once in a while picking up a string and tugging, the girl at the end of the string turning in one direction or another. Some people he almost recognizes—he sees a girl that looks like Cindy, her bikini leaving very little to the imagination, with a parrot on her shoulder that keeps swiveling its head around to look at everyone in the vicinity. It sees Daniel, and stares at him.

The buzz of the people is getting louder. The music is thumping in the background, a low drone that shakes his bones. He sees a door in the distance and heads towards it, but the throng of people is denser now. He has to use his elbows to push people out of the way. He is starting to feel claustrophobic, his heart racing. He comes to the door, opens it.

He is in a large empty room, with a couch. On the couch, two girls, locked in a tight embrace, their hands roaming each other’s bodies. The music is more muted here. It is as if he is hearing through a pillow. He recognizes the girls, of course. Jenn and Serena, kissing passionately, Jenn’s white skin contrasting beautifully with Serena’s mocha tones. They are wet, and drops of water glisten on their skin. Daniel watches, entranced. The two girls rub their breasts together as they kiss, and Jenn slowly humps the black girl’s thigh.

From the back of the room, cloaked in mist. Daniel hears a doorbell, and not just any doorbell: the same sound as that of his apartment, as distinctive as the Big Ben carillon. The sound is loud and exceedingly clear, unlike all the other sounds he has heard until now. A man appears in the mist. He is naked. His features are not clear at first, but Daniel recognizes his shape. Biff Cusker, a jock from the Delta Iota Kappa fraternity, and not one of the smartest ones either—a loud and loutish frat boy who ogled his girlfriend right in front of him, and later threatened to practically rape her.

And now Biff, naked, stands near the couch and extends a hand. Jenn takes it and Biff pulls her up. When he speaks, his voice is as loud and as clear as the door slam from before, and Daniel feels like he can touch it. “There you are, doll,” says Biff. “Did you shower just for me? God you’re a sweet-looking bitch. Come here.” A long silence. “I want to fuck you on your bed.”

Daniel wants to say something, but he finds he cannot speak, cannot move. He watches Biff and his fiancee head towards the back of the room, hand in hand, and they dissolve in the mist.

Meanwhile, Serena gestures with a finger for him to approach. He finds he can move now, but while he wants to follow Jenn, he can only walk towards Serena, and his eyes trail down to her large and fully exposed breasts. When he is close she pulls him in and kisses him, and those breasts press into his chest. She tastes like Jenn.

Serena points to the couch. He lies down upon it. She sits on the edge, her hands running down his body, pressing on his hard cock through his pants. He wants her to unbutton them, pull them down, wrap her hand around his cock, then her mouth. He wants to speak, finds he cannot. Serena puts a finger to her lips, shushing him. Then she lifts her finger in the air, touching it to her ear, asking him to listen. He does. There is a soft rhythmic sound in the background, soft but still clear. His breath catches. He hates that sound. He does not know what it is, but he knows he hates it. Serena runs her hand on his face, caressing softly, then gently closes his eyelids. He lets her do so. The world fades to a hazy grey.

When he opens them again, he is alone. The room is empty. The soft rhythmic sound is still there in the background. Serena is gone. The music from the party is gone. There was only an eerie silence, punctuated by that sound. It is coming from the back. He stands. He walks towards the mist, and he walks through it. He expects to find a door. There is none.

The mist thickens, and soon he cannot see anything, lost in a grey haze. He keeps on walking, the sound becoming somewhat louder. And he hears groans, clear as crystal. He walks on.

The mist clears, and Daniel is both astonished and unsurprised by the fact that he is in the hallway in the house in which he grew up. Although it is not the same hallway. But he knows it is. The sound is louder, coming from further down the hallway, from a door that his bones know leads to his parents’ bedroom. He knows the sound. He has heard it before. And it fills him with dread. He feels cold sweat start down his back. He floats down the hallway of his youth, a ghost, reluctant, but unable to control his actions. He is not moving, but he is approaching the door. It is ajar.

He opens the door. He expects to see his parents’ bedroom, the way it was when he was young, the way it was before his father died, and it is, but it is not. Everything is the same and everything is different. And on the bed, in the middle of the room, is his fiancee, Jenn. She is not alone.

Biff is standing by the bed, head thrown back, naked from the waist down. And Jenn, lovely Jenn, smart Jenn, funny Jenn, is kneeling in front of him, and is busy sucking his cock, her eyes closed. Her long dark hair is wet, and she is naked but for a short white tee shirt she sometimes wears after a shower. Her long legs, whose soft skin Daniel has caressed and rubbed his face against so many times, are folded underneath her. She has a slow and steady rhythm going, Biff’s large cock sliding effortlessly through her full red lips. Her cheeks sink in as she sucks the hard shaft on the way down, and back out again. Biff is grunting, stroking Jenn’s hair with a meaty hand. Jenn’s right hand is slowly jacking him off, in counterpoint with her sucking. The sound Daniel heard earlier, the soft rhythmic sound, the sound of Jenn sucking on Biff’s cock, is unmistakable.

Daniel wants to jump in and pull Jenn away, or pull Biff away, drop-kick him, choke the life out of him. But he cannot move. He cannot speak. He is a ghost, intangible, in room that looks as intangible as he is. He is trapped, forced to watch, forced to see, unable to affect the events before him, as if they were a film projected onto his mind, as if they were a memory. He is powerless. He finds he cannot breathe, finds his head is pounding, is blood rushing in his ears. He is watching a man he hates getting serviced by his fiancee, and part of him is furious. But part of him is also terrified. And that terror terrifies him further, for it is a terror of something long forgotten.

“Fuck, you’re fucking good at this, doll,” groans Biff, his voice wrapped in all the palpability that escapes Daniel. “You gotta have sucked a lot of cock in your life.”

Jenn looks up with bright blue eyes, and lets Biff’s cock slide out of her mouth. “Depends, big guy,” she says, her voice low and seductive, as solid as Biff’s. “You want me to have sucked lots of cocks? You like the thought of me with dicks in my mouth? Who do you think I am?”

“You’re a natural, that’s who you are. Betcha anything you’ve been blowing your boyfriends since you were way high. Fuck, you look like you belong with a cock down your throat. They probably passed you around at parties too, like a pocket pussy, you fucking slut!”

Jenn does not respond, instead dives her mouth back onto Biff’s cock and slurps down the large shaft. She sucks hard, with long deep strokes, and Biff is growing agitated and starting to lose control.

“Fuck, I won’t be able to keep it up much longer! Ugh, fuck, fuck, you’re so fucking good, so fucking great... Such a nice fucking mouth—Fuck yeah! Ugh!”

Biff punctuates that last groan by grabbing Jenn’s head with both hands and ramming his cock deep in her mouth. Surprised, Jenn gags loudly, and the big cock disappears almost completely into her mouth, her throat bulging, tears streaming down her face.

“Fuck yeah, take it all, you little slut, little cocksucking slut...”

Biff pulls his cock out, letting Jenn gasp a breath, spittle running down the side of her mouth, a long strand stretched from her lips to the tip of the large cock. Biff rams his cock in again, deeper, all the way down her throat, smashing Jenn’s nose into his stomach.

“Yeah, take it all, take all of my cock in your whore mouth. Gag on it, you cunt, you cocksucking little cunt. Not so high and mighty with a hard cock stuck down your throat, are you? Take this, this, this, this! Huh! Huh!”

Biff is relentless, fucking Jenn’s mouth and slapping away her hands when she tries to keep him from going in too deep. Every time his cock bottoms out, Jenn gags, loudly. The slapping of Jenn’s forehead against Biff’s stomach is almost hypnotic. Daniel struggles to move, to stop the large man, unable even to clench his hands into ineffectual fists. He is mist himself.

“Fuck yeah, I’m gonna come, gonna come, gonna come on this fucking face of yours! Wanna big load of cream on your face, huh? Wanna drown in cum! Here it comes—here it comes... Deeper! Deeper! Fuck! Huh!”

Biff rams his cock one last time down Jenn’s throat, pushing harder, grinding his hips into her face, then pulls out his shaft and starts spurting thick, ropy semen all over Jenn’s hair, forehead, eyes, and nose. The cum drips slowly down her face.

Jenn smiles and looks up at Biff. “You like spurting all over my face, big guy? You like seeing a helpless girl drenched in your cum? Does it turn you on? It’s the ultimate power trip, ain’t it? Well, that and when she cleans it all up, of course...” and she raises a hand to her face, scooping up the semen threatening to trickle onto her tee shirt and licking it up slowly, making a production of swallowing the cum loudly. “You like it when I swallow your cum, big guy?”

“Fuck yeah—it’s fucking great!” Biff laughs, catching his breath. He looks at her playing with the cum on her face, and he smirks. Suddenly he grabs Jenn by the hair, forcing her head up. “Listen to me, doll. Now you’re going to clean me up, get me hard again, then you’re going to get down on all four, and then you’re gonna beg me to fuck you.”

Looking up at him with a naughty smile, Jenn tries to nod, the action hampered by the tight grip the big man had on her scalp. “You gonna fuck me hard, big guy? I want you to shove that baseball bat so far in my cunt that it comes out of my mouth. You think you can do that? You think you can fuck me hard enough?”

“Ha! We’re gonna have a lot of fun together, you and I. Before you start, take off that shirt. I wanna see your tits.”

Biff lets Jenn go, and in one smooth movement she wiggles out of her tee shirt and pulls it up over her head, sending her uncovered breasts quivering. She is left kneeling on the bed wearing only a small pair of panties.

“Fuck me—look at those!” Biff reaches out with a hand and grabs one of her breasts, kneading it roughly, squeezing it hard. “Feels nice. Turning out better and better. I’m gonna keep you for a long time, you know that? You’re gonna be my little private whore.” He grips harder. Jenn merely moans in response, her eyes closed, her hand reaching up to press Biff’s hand harder against her breast.

“Okay, go on, clean me up, get me hard again. I want to stick my cock up your cunt.”

Jenn bends down, and proceeds to lick and nibble thoroughly on the semi-flaccid member before her. She works slowly, lovingly, worshipping the half-erect member with skill and attention. Biff keeps a hand on her breast, kneading it continuously. When his cock regains some of its former hardness, Jenn takes the head in her mouth and sucks on it softly, running one of her hands up and down the exposed shaft.

At that moment Biff’s cell phone rings. The sound is harsh and loud in the silent room. He gives it an angry look that quickly turns into a frown once he sees the caller. He sighs, then picks it up.

Daniel wants to scream something, scream for help, but he cannot. He has no voice. He is but eyes.

“Yeah, Biff.—When?—You sure? I mean...—No, no, it’s okay.—Yeah, I’ll be there.—Relax, Kev, I’m telling you, I’ll be there.—Yeah, I’m leaving now. Fuck, what’s your problem today?” Biff hangs up and tosses the phone down on the bed. “Fucking shit,” he growls under his breath. “Fuck you, Kev.”

Jenn has not stopped her ministrations during the exchange, and is now taking Biff’s cock in and out of her mouth in a regular and pleasurable motion. Biff looks at her working silently, his hips swaying slightly forward and back, probably unconsciously. Then he grunts and picks up his phone again. He thumbs it for a few seconds, making a call.

“Yo, Bernie, my man! How’s it hangin’?—Yeah, relax, I just have a few questions for you. You know the special job I asked you to do a few days back?—Yeah, yeah, it’s all good. She’s here choking on my cock right now in fact. Nice bitch, ain’t she? Look, you now I wanted this permanent, right? How did you call that shit?—Yeah, that’s right, deep programming. Whatever. Remind me how it works.—Fuck yeah I want it, what do you think?—Fuck, like I care! Go on.—Okay.—Right.—Repeat how many times?—Right.—Okay. That’s it? Simple enough. Right, an idiot could do it. Okay, bye.”

He hangs up, and looks down at Jenn. He lets her suck him off a minute longer, thrusting a few times into her mouth and making her gag before telling her to stop. His cock is hard again, and he groans. “Shit—now look at that. How... Fuck you Kev. All right. Look at me, doll. Look at me. Look at me in the eyes.” Jenn obeys. “I am you DIK master.” He waves his hand in front of Jenn’s face, and her eyes fasten on the large fraternity ring on his finger before she stiffens noticeably and goes limp, her head and limbs hanging like a puppet whose strings have been snipped.

“Can you hear me?” asks Biff.

“I can hear you, master.” Her voice holds no inflection, no emotion. She sounds like a bad actor in a bad hypnosis movie of old.

“I am your DIK master,” says Biff. “Repeat after me. You will hear what I say and what you hear will be your thoughts.” Biff sounds like he is reciting a learned lesson in a foreign language, articulating every syllable carefully.

“I will hear what you say and what I hear will be my thoughts.”

“I control you, your thoughts, your emotions.”

“You control me, my thoughts, my emotions.”

“You will do what I tell you to do because I control you, your thoughts, your emotions.”

“I will do what you tell me to do because you control me, my thoughts, my emotions.”

“You will obey my commands because I control you, your thoughts, your emotions.”

“I will obey your commands because you control me, my thoughts, my emotions.”

“You will remember my instructions because I control you, your thoughts, your emotions.”

“I will remember your instructions because you control me, my thoughts, my emotions.”

“Mine are the only instructions you will obey because I control you, your thoughts, your emotions.”

“Yours are the only instructions I will obey because you control me, my thoughts, my emotions.”

“I am your master.”

“You are my master.”

“I am your only master.”

“You are my only master.”

“I am your god.”

“You are my god.”

Biff pauses, looking at Jenn, then he grins like a mean little kid.

“You love doing what I tell you.”

“I love doing what you tell me.”

“Doing what I tell you makes you hot.”

“Doing what you tell me makes me hot.”

“You are my little slut.”

“I am your little slut.”

“You are my kinky little slut.”

“I am your kinky little slut.”

Biff stops again, his hand going to his cock, and he strokes it a few times. Jenn remains limp before him.

“God, I’d like to fuck you right now.”

“You’d like to fuck me right now.”

“What the—No, you stupid bitch! Never mind. Fuck, I gotta go.”

Biff goes to pick up his pants, his cock bobbing before him, and pulls them on.

“Listen. Don’t repeat, just listen to my instructions. Tomorrow, I’ll call you, and you’ll answer the phone, and then you’ll come and meet me. I’ll tell you when and where tomorrow. I want you to wear something sexy, all right? Something slutty, something that shows off those sexy legs of yours, and those tits too—something with cleavage, okay? You got any hooker boots, or slut heels, or something?”

“I do, master” respond Jenn.

“Good, wear them. I want you dressed so that any boy that sees you will cream his pants on the spot, okay? And. when I leave, I want you to forget any of this happened. You’ve had a quiet afternoon reading or knitting or whatever the fuck you do, okay?”

“Yes, master” responds Jenn.

“Tomorrow, we’ll work on your attitude, and start your new life. I’ll turn you into a little slutty bimbo. You’ll love it. We’ll get some help from my friend Bernie, okay? Prepare to be fucked silly, doll.”

Jenn seems to come out of her torpor at that, and looks up at Biff with a hungry expression on her face. “Please? You’re going to fuck me?”

Biff grins. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you won’t walk for a week, doll. Promised.” He looks at her a moment longer, clearly debating whether to fulfill that promise there on the spot, but then shakes his head. “I’d fuck you right now if I didn’t have to fucking run.”

Biff heads towards the door, towards Daniel. And Daniel struggles his mightiest to achieve corporality and push the big man away, even though a rational remnant in him knows that Biff could beat him up within an inch of his life without missing a breath, and another part of him—a young part—is screaming in terror and wants to crawl back to his room. But he cannot do anything. There is no solidity to be had.

Biff stops for a second right in front of Daniel, and turns back to Jenn. “You know what?” he says, “I want you to fuck your boyfriend tonight. You’ll be a horny little girlfriend, the horniest you’ve ever been with him, or anyone. And make it good, real good. You’ll offer to do anything he wants, then you’ll do it. No matter what it is. You’ll be a good little submissive girlfriend. Give him the best. It’s going to be the last time you’re with him, so might as well let him go with style, right? Give him a reason to regret you afterwards. Hey, I can be magnamous.”

“Magnanimous,” corrects Jenn.

Biff frowns. “One good thing about turning you into a little bimbo is that it’s gonna take care of your smart-ass mouth. Don’t need no brain to suck cock. A little piece of arm candy, that’s what you’ll be.”

Biff turns around and walks through Daniel as he leaves the bedroom and steps into the hallway of Daniel’s childhood home. And Daniel finds he can move again. He turns around to follow Biff, but there is no door there any longer. He turns around to catch Jenn but when he faces into the bedroom again the bedroom is gone and so is Jenn and there is but a couch in the middle of the space shrouded in mist, and he suddenly feels very tired.

In the background, from far away, he hears the shower turn on, and Jenn singing to herself the way she often does when under the spray.

Daniel lies down on the couch, exhausted, surprised by the feel of the couch against his back, feeling more real than anything else has been recently.

The world dissolves into a hazy grey for the last time.