Permanent Changes
Chapter Two: Brief Clothing, Brief Resistance
Henry Eckerson was not his real name but he had used it exclusively for such a long time he often forgot that. He was called Hank early in life, and did not start calling himself Henry until he had been away from home a few years. The last name and the slight English accent he adopted later. He grew up in the American Midwest, but rarely told anyone that. He had been popular as a child and a teenager, who got into a lot of trouble but was always able to talk himself out of it. Despite being small and mildly effeminate, women liked him and he liked them.
His upbringing had failed to make much of a moral imprint on him. His family went to church and he was understood morality as an abstract concept, but it had no practical meaning to him. No man or woman could ever bring themselves to punish Hank when he did wrong, and it left him with the sense that he could simply do what he wanted, which in a sense was completely accurate.
Things accelerated when he hit puberty. Hank lost his virginity at 13 and sex became the driving force in his life. It obliterated everything else from his mind and it was all he wanted. He had scores of women in those early teenage years and it was pursuit of more that led him to drop out of school and abandon his hometown at 16.
He found himself more and more persuasive, which at first he attributed to his keen sense of empathy that helped him understand what others were feeling. Eventually, he realized it was something more and it became his new obsession. He went without sex for two years as he tried to hone his powers. The discipline Henry prided himself on was more a result of his obsessive nature than anything else. He was able to control his lust for women only by supplanting it with a greater obsession: understanding mind control.
Sarah was changing. The bathroom door was shut but Henry was keeping a close watch on her thoughts as he sat in a chair in the run-down motel. He hated using these places, but proper hotels asked for identification and had security cameras and attentive staffs. He was not willing to risk anyone remembering his or her face should something go wrong over the weekend.
She stopped changing. Her top and bra were off, but she had won a small mental struggle by stopping her hands from pulling down her sweatpants. Henry could feel her sense of triumph as she plotted her next move.
“Sarah,” he said, his tone changed from before. Where he had earlier been polite and even gentle, Henry was now forceful and demanding. “Take off all of your pants. Now.”
Fear again clouded her mind. Her hands moved quickly, pulling the pants off in a flash.
“Good,” he said. “Now your underwear.” She took off the simple cotton panties and stood naked and trembling. Her clothes were in a heap at her feet and the clothing box Henry had given her was sitting on the closed toilet. “Open the box.”
She picked up the box, which bore the name of an upscale clothing store. Opening it, she realized immediately the clothes inside were not purchased at that store. It was a little joke of Henry’s that served to amuse him and keep the women off guard.
“Put on the garter belt and stockings first,” he commanded through the closed door. Sarah had warn lingerie many times before and her fingers knew what to do. The garter belt was black as were the fishnet stockings. She attached them sort of half-heartedly. “No, Sarah. Put them on and make them look good.”
A little surprised that he could tell exactly what she was doing, Sarah straightened out the stockings. “Put on the underwear, please.” She picked up the tiny g-string, slipped it on, adjusted it. It was silk or a synthetic that felt like it, mostly see-through in the front. The red underwear contrasted with the black garter and stockings.
Not willing to give her another chance to resist just yet, Henry continued to command her step-by-step. “The skirt.” It was brief and black and very tight. Sarah wasn’t surprised. It ended a few inches above her knees.
“Time for the top,” Henry said. The top was a mockery of a sweater. Its sleeves were full-length but the rest was not. It was soft and fluffy but would barely cover her large breasts. Sarah was determined not to wear it. She stood there frozen, the flimsy fabric held limp in her hands. She willed herself not to move.
Henry savored the resistance. She was very strong-willed and again he was surprised. He knew when he picked her that she was smart and independent, living alone after college and working long hours as a junior executive at a film studio. She had gone to a good school and worked hard studying business and when she graduated she had the recommendations and internships to land a prized job. He had picked her because of her independence and drive-the long hours and little social life made her a good target.
Still he was not about to tolerate this sort of behavior just now. Henry was tired and obviously the effectiveness of his commands was declining. It happened. “My lovely little slut, it seems as though we are going to have to move beyond simple commands,” he said.
“Go to hell,” she said through the door, her courage gathering. Sarah was able to drop the mini-sweater and was now looking around the bathroom for something to use as a weapon. She could feel the commands weakening, control over her body returning.
“If I am going to hell, you are going somewhere else,” he said. “Somewhere cold. In fact, you are getting very, very cold.”
As he said it, she could feel it becoming true. It had been cold standing topless in the bathroom, but now it was freezing. She crossed her arms and rubbed them close to her body.
“It is so cold it is all you can think about,” Henry said. He was speaking slowly now, methodically, each word leaden with intent. “If you do not get warm soon, who knows what will happen? You want to be warm, do you not?”
“Yes,” she stammered through chattering teeth.
“Good. The sweater at your feet is warm. It is very, very warm. If you were to put it on, you too would be warm.”
She picked up the sweater. Henry was right and she almost slipped it on before she rebelled again. No, she thought weakly, if I put it on he wins. I am not really cold, I am not really cold, she repeated in her head.
“Oh, you are very cold, Sarah. Very cold indeed. And the sweater is so nice and warm. As you hold it, feel its warmth against your skin. It will warm you up.” His voice smooth now, almost melodious. It enchanted her.
Sarah rubbed the dark gray sweater against her face. It was so warm. It would feel good to slip it on, only for a moment. Just a moment to get warm, she thought. That wouldn’t be giving in, if she took it off immediately afterward.
As soon as Henry knew the sweater was on, he shifted demeanors once more. He was commanding again. “Open the door and walk out of the bathroom.”
Before she had a chance to react Sarah was standing before him. He was sitting in the chair again, his neck turned to look at her. His eyes roamed up and down her body, admiring the abs she had worked so hard for. The sweater left her entire midriff exposed and he ate it up. “The shoes, please,” he said.
In front of her was a pair of red, stiletto-heeled pumps. Slut shoes, she thought. Henry, reading her thoughts, made a mental note to use the phrase later. Tired from the last resistance, Sarah put the shoes on. The heels were an even six inches and she could barely stand in them. “Turn around slowly,” he said, making a circular motion with his right index finger.
The outfit was a mockery of business attire. She was dressed like a secretary or businesswoman from a porno flick. Her breasts jutted out from the tiny top. The shoes and stockings made her legs look perfect and the little skirt rode up slightly as she wobbled. Any concerns Henry had about the weekend vanished when he saw her. Playing dress-up was useful for the conditioning, he knew, but mainly he used it because he liked to indulge his fetishes.
He gestured to the bed. “Sit down.” She did so and instinctively crossed her legs. Henry admired the view and he felt a wave of revulsion coming from her mind as she watched him watch her. She crossed her arms.
Henry shook his head. “Lean back and support yourself by placing your hands behind you, palms down on the bed.”
Sarah complied and the pose caused her chest to stick out even more. The pose was positively lurid, both of them thought. Henry smiled a toothy grin, his perfectly polished teeth almost glinting in the dim light of the room. Sarah thought the teeth looked razor sharp.
Once again his voice was gentle and polite. “Now tell me, please, for how long have you been a giant slut?”