The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Chapter 7: The Fearsome Foursome

Kathy and I saw a lot of each other at home during the summer. We didn’t feel that we could tell our families about our new relationship yet, so we were a bit careful not to scandalize anybody. Luckily we had already made arrangements to spend a month in Costa Rica studying Spanish, and nobody was surprised when we roomed together. We used that privacy to make up for lost time!

We returned to college early, and went looking for off-campus housing, since dorm space at our school is so tight that most of it is reserved for foreign students and first year. We met Xiang and Linda in the housing office, and quickly agreed to look for a place together. We found a big old four-bedroom house for rent, a little too far from campus, but priced right. We had thought we could all be friends, and we were right; the problem was to spend enough time studying instead of talking!

It turned out Linda and Xiang had agreed on the same kind of relationship we had. Linda was completely deferential to Xiang, and called her Goddess or Supreme Lady. “A fine example for you, uppity slave girl!” I teased Kathy. “If that’s what you want, I’ll try, Mistress,” she said. “Well, as long as I know you will, you don’t have to,” I allowed.

Pat gave pointers to Xiang and me on how to use hypnosis to gain more control over our slave girls, and how to take good care of them. She also talked to Kathy and Linda about the care and feeding of a Domme, about how emotionally draining the role can be and how much affirmation we needed. They took this to heart, and spoiled us outrageously.

As we grew to be better friends, Xiang and I extended our hypnotic rapport with our submissives to each other. Now Linda had to do whatever I said, and Kathy was completely at Xiang’s disposal. We made our slaves take turns hypnotizing and dominating each other, and persuaded them to make love with each other regularly. In the same way, Xiang and I began taking turns on top for a week at a time. One week I was Mistress of all I surveyed, including my yummy supreme slave Xiang, and the next week Xiang was my Goddess, and I ruled her other slaves as she wanted. I found that I liked the submissive role almost as much, but even though dominance is more work, it’s more fun. Xiang and I also grew to love each other passionately.

Every Wednesday night we would all gather late in the living room, and whoever was in control that week would give her commands for that night’s orgy. This wasn’t all about sex, though. Each of us came to care deeply for the other three; we helped and supported each other like sisters and more. We found that we could let go of habits and attitudes that were holding us back. Partly this was a response to the irresistible post-hypnotic commands each of us was now giving and receiving; but part of it was because our sisters loved us, and we wanted to please them and not let them down. Xiang really had been a selfish bitch, in a nice way; now she grew considerate and helpful. Linda had been depressed most of her life; now she learned to assert herself and work for what she wanted, and she began to cheer up. Kathy stopped isolating and living in a fantasy world, and learned to prefer reality. And I learned to be patient and affectionate with my sisters even when they drove me crazy, although I used to have...umm, a tiny anger management problem.

We tended to dress alike, and we found that we all still preferred feminine clothes and grooming. We liked being beautiful women together! Some other women on campus didn’t appreciate this. One Soc professor cornered Xiang and me in the cafeteria one day and tried to raise our consciousness, which was an alarming experience—for her. “You’re too young to be lipstick lesbians!” she sneered.

“Why should we try to look like boys?” I wondered innocently. “We like being girls!”

“The image of femininity the mass media have taught you places your beauty at the service of the male,” she orated. “To reject those false standards disenchants the hegemonic discourse of patriarchal oppression!”

We broke up at that line. “Say that three times fast!” Xiang challenged. “Maybe I let you kiss my gorgeous Third World lesbian ass!”

“There’s no use talking to people who aren’t serious,” she huffed. “Why, you’re both eating meat! Don’t you Care at all?”

“Not about political correctness,” I said. “Only about what seems right and good to us and our friends.”

She got an ugly expression on her face. “Do you know that fascist Pat Aligniani?”

“She’s the one who opened our minds to liking girls!” we chorused.

“She’s made you into inauthentic womyn, just like her! The damage that person does!”

“We like her and respect her,” I said firmly, “and we appreciate what she teaches us, in class and out. It all seems to work, and to make sense, which are two things I really can’t say for what you teach.”

She stormed off in a huff. Xiang had heard stories from her parents about people like that in the old country, so she was a little worried. “Can she do anything to us, do you think?” she asked.

“I doubt it,” I reassured her. “If we were doctoral candidates in her department, or faculty bucking for tenure anywhere on the Social Sciences side, we might have to pretend to be converted to Harpy Marxism, though. I wonder how Pat ever got tenured?”

Xiang knew the answer, and whispered it to me with an impish smile. “Dr. Mortensen was the department chair that year, and had the tenure committee very firmly in hand. I heard her talking to another older professor. She said, “Until I met Pat, I thought I was straight!”

“But now she’s happily bent, just like us!” We giggled at this variant on the traditional scenario of screwing your way to an A. “Good for Pat!”

We soon began talking about our experience to bi-curious students. We found we were gaining a certain reputation on campus; the professor who had clashed with us wrote an article in the student newspaper condemning the subversive influence of certain undergraduate handmaidens of patriarchy. After I wrote a rebuttal, making fun of ideological orthodoxy as a path to truth in social science or human relationships, there was a distinct chill from many of the out lesbians on campus. A few came up to me very privately and thanked me for saying the obvious; they seemed in awe of my bravery. When my housemates loyally defended me and scored points of their own, both groups began calling us the Fearsome Foursome.

Chapter 8: Breaking In Our Boys

As we started our junior year, we agreed to start seeing boys, but only boys who could accept our special relationship. I began going out with Cliff, and found him just as nice and as easy to talk to as I had hoped. He passed the word among the engineering and science majors, and Linda’s hometown boyfriend Olav found other interested business majors. We started holding Friday night parties at our house, which were always well attended.

We discussed the boys we liked after these parties, and started to pick out the ones who were the best fit for each of us. We pooled our reading and advice from respected elders on how to pick a spouse; besides the obvious physical attraction and employment prospects, the wisest counselors seemed to agree on an unexpected rule. “Marry funny!” Everybody’s life holds lots of drudgery and some pain. Each of us needed a partner who could make her laugh and vice versa, so these were the boys we preferred.

Once we had a short list of candidates, we invited them to join our Future Husband Training Seminar. That title didn’t scare many of them off; these were serious nice guys who knew they wanted to be married. We had dropped enough clues about what kind of relationship we had in mind, too, like Linda’s favorite t-shirt which said, “Boys are fun! Every girl ought to own one!”

We had agreed this was the way things should be late one Wednesday night. We were lazing around together on the living room floor, all passion spent, when Kathy suddenly looked around at the rest of us and burst into tears. We gathered around to comfort her, asking, “What’s wrong, honey?” or in Xiang’s case, the imp, “Were we so bad?”

“I love you all,” Kathy sobbed, “and I can’t stand to lose any of you. Now we’re talking about finding boys; does that mean we have to break up?”

That idea got a swift reaction from each of us. “As if!” “I don’t think so!” “This will not happen.”

“But then, if we stay together, won’t we have to find boys who can accept that? Some can, but not all.”

We discussed this point, and agreed to commit to being a permanent foursome, adding only husbands who were comfortable with our relationship. I had talked over the power exchange aspect of our lifestyle with Pat; she explained that this was more common in same-sex relationships, but not rare in straight life. We could probably find boys we liked who were willing to cement their respect for women by going under female power. That way we wouldn’t run into the problem of the guy who likes you just the way you are until you marry him, and then tries to change you all around. Of course, our boys would need training to accept this arrangement. I mentioned this need to Pat, and she agreed that she and Janet would team-teach a weekend seminar once we had rounded up the willing victims—er, students.

Eight candidates for The Treatment gathered in our living room one Friday night. We had agreed that I would make the initial pitch; I wanted Xiang to take part of it, but she chickened out, saying, “You know my English disintegrates under stress!”

I explained that we were looking for volunteers for training in female power. “We all like girls, and we all plan to stay that way and stay together as long as we live. We all like boys, too, but we’ve decided we can only feel safe and comfortable in a serious relationship if the woman is the boss, and her man is her property. Each of you who goes through this hypnotic training process will come out of it ready to be a love slave, with permanent prospects as a submissive husband. Exactly what that will mean depends on which woman chooses you; she will probably listen to your opinions and preferences, but then she will decide, and you’ll find that what she says goes. Each of us will only pick one of the graduates. If there are any of you left over, we know other bossy chicks on campus we can introduce you to, and we will be happy to play matchmaker. If you have questions about what it’s like to be the way we want to make you, a man who has lived this way for three years now is here tonight to answer them. Tom, I’ll leave them to you for some guy talk!”

I left the living room knowing that Janet’s slave husband would give a good picture of his role. I had wondered how our boys would react to an older man they didn’t know, even though he knew the stuff they wanted to find out. I needn’t have worried; Tom is the administrator of the campus intranet, and several of these guys were power users who already knew him because he had solved problems for them. I soon heard friendly conversation and some laughter.

When the conversation seemed to be winding down, I came back in. “Think it over tonight,” I instructed them. “If you decide this is something you want to do, be here at 8 tomorrow morning, ready to stay and learn new ways of thinking for the whole weekend. We have two expert teachers lined up; one is Janet, Tom’s owner, and the other is Pat the Psych professor, her friend, who helped Tom make the transition to a woman-centered way of life. If you go through with this training, it will really change you, so be prepared for that. And now enough seriousness! Let’s party!”

Chapter 9: Womanpower Weekend

By shortly after 8 in the morning, all of the candidates were sitting in our living room again. The boys were quiet and seemed a little nervous. “Is that good?” I asked Pat.

“Definitely!” she said. “It means they’re taking this seriously, and expecting their attitudes and behavior to change. That’s half the battle. Are you ready to meet the public, Janet?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be, " her friend responded. She turned to me and explained, “Pat has trained me as a hypnotist, but this is the first time I’ve ever done a group. If she didn’t have me in a light trance right now, I’d be a nervous wreck!”

Pat and Janet went into the living room with me, and I introduced them to the boys. We had several minutes of general conversation; the Foursome provided blankets and sleeping bags for those boys who preferred to spread out on the floor. Then Pat explained the procedure. “Janet and I will both talk to you at once. One of us will make general suggestions to relax, mellow out, and cooperate; the other will present specific ideas of female power and male subordination. We will swap back and forth every few minutes. You don’t have to pay attention to us consciously; just relax and try to keep your minds as blank as possible, and let our words flow through you. After a while, you will stop being aware of your surroundings, and just follow wherever women’s voices lead you. Don’t worry about that; that’s the most important skill we’re teaching you! You are in our hands for this weekend, and we will take good care of you.”

Pat sat down in her director’s chair, and Janet found a vacant spot on the couch. They exchanged winks, and began. “Think of the numbers from one by fours. One, five, nine, thirteen...Let the numbers appear in your mind’s eye, each one shining bright as you think of it, and each one a different color from the number before it. As each number takes its turn on stage, you become more and more deeply absorbed in watching the numbers change, and you can let your eyes fall closed as soon as you are ready...”

“You may not be aware of the sensations on the soles of your feet, but as you notice those sensations, they change to a deep relaxation and comfort, as if you were dangling your feet in a heated swimming pool. Let that warm relaxed feeling flow up your legs, washing away any tension and freeing you to enjoy this experience completely...through your knees...on into your hips and groin...up your back and forward into your belly and your chest...through your shoulders and down your arms right to your fingertips...then a wave of warm comfort sweeps up through your neck and fills your head...it feels so good to relax and enjoy this sensation...let your jaw sag a little...and notice that your eyelids are so relaxed and so heavy that you couldn’t open them if you wanted to...and you don’t want to, you just want to relax and absorb the delightful ideas you are learning...

“Imagine a long, bright tunnel. You are walking down the tunnel. And as you walk, your breathing becomes slow and deep, and you look forward to reaching your goal. Step by step you are getting closer to the place you want to be. You see doors on the sides of the tunnel. Each door leads into a different future for you. You remember past feelings of pleasure and excitement, and you feel those feelings now, as you realize that you are walking automatically, like a robot. You have no control over your own body; you just ...keep...walking. You know that a woman is controlling you. You will walk through the door into the future which your wise woman selects for you, and you can’t help smiling as you let yourself know that....”

Kathy and I were watching from the hall, and I was pleased to see that all of the boys reacted to this double whammy by going right under, wilting with relaxation and becoming deeply involved in trance. In fact, I was feeling bemused myself. Then I noticed that Kathy’s eyes had closed. My breath caught and my nipples erected as I saw her slow unconscious nodding at an accepted suggestion, and realized she was also in a profound trance. I decided this training session was not really for us, and I certainly knew by now what to do with a hypnotized girlfriend. I put my arm around her and murmured to her, “And you can let the pleasant feelings grow stronger as I guide you down the hall, with every step taking you more deeply under my power...”

Kathy smiled happily and whispered, “Yes, Mistress!” She yielded deliciously to my guidance and began to walk down the hall. I caught Pat’s eye as we left; she winked and grinned, and blew me a kiss.

At ten in the morning, the Foursome reassembled in the living room. As Pat had requested, we were all topless. The boys were all naked at this point. They all had their eyes open, but they were seeing only what they were told to see. None of them were aware of us or of each other until Pat and Janet allowed them to be. Then they responded to lessons they had absorbed, staring at our breasts with glazed fascination. We lined up along one side of the room, and Pat and Janet had the boys kneel before us. One by one, the boys recited a lesson they had learned: “You are my Goddesses; you are completely in control of me. I have to do whatever you want, and believe everything you tell me, because your breasts are so beautiful.”

Each of us took two of the boys walking around the house for exercise. They followed us like imprinted baby birds. Each of them got a small household task to do, and as he said, “Yes, Goddess!” and accepted the command to serve women, he got an erection. We restrained our giggles, and praised them for obeying us. Each shivered with pleasure at having a woman tell him he was a good boy...

Pat and Janet took a break for lunch after the next training session, leaving the boys relaxed limp and listening to a tape Pat had made them. “Things are moving well so far,” Pat said. “I’m glad to have the cooperation of the Foursome when I call on you; it helps to have the boys focus on specific women and realize that you have power over them. And I really appreciate your help, Janet. I talk myself hoarse when I do this kind of thing alone.”

“I’m glad to help out, darling,” Pat said. “Leaving aside the fact that I never refuse anything you ask of me, and I really doubt that I could...I owe you for my own devoted slave, whom I love very much. I know how happy it makes me to own Tom, and I’ve seen how good for him female control is and how much he likes it. It’s only fair to want to pass along a neat arrangement like that.”

“You’re both doing this for our benefit,” I said for all of us, “We’re very grateful, and happy to help.”

By the middle of the afternoon, Pat decided the boys were ready for the next step, and had us parade back into the room in the nude. The boys lined up on their knees before us, and passed down the line of Goddesses one at a time. Each boy kissed the feet of each woman. Then they lined up again and each told us, “My Goddesses, I am completely fascinated with your cunts. I am under your pussy power, and I find your wishes irresistible.” Once again, we led pairs of tranced boys around the house and made them work for us, each woman selecting different boys from before. Then we lined them up in the living room again, and each of us chose two other boys for cock control. Pat and Janet had prepared the boys to respond automatically to words of command. When a woman said, “STIFFEN UP!” each one got a woodie, and when she said “GO LIMP!” he lost it. They were obviously enjoying obedience to our commands, and I saw that my sisters were all liking this as much as I was. “This is so cool!” Linda enthused.

“It’s a surprisingly effective way of conditioning a male to obey, too,” said Pat. “This will be a good exercise to practice with your chosen slave, once you’ve picked the winners.”

We served dinner to Pat and Janet and our boys in the living room. “This will soon seem like a role reversal,” Pat predicted, “but right now the boys are too far out of it to be able to fix and serve a meal.” I noticed that the boys were still somnambulistic, even eating; they did whatever they were told, but they moved and spoke only in response to female commands. As requested, one of us accompanied each boy into the bathroom, which they really needed by then. Pat predicted that this would help to break down any remaining reluctance to accept female power, but none of us noticed any resistance. The boys had already accepted that whatever we made them do was right for them.

As we discussed this in the kitchen during the last training session of the evening, Kathy remarked, “I was wondering if I had turned completely lesbian, but seeing our boys like this is getting me hot. I guess I still do like boys also, as long as they know their place.”

“I am also finding this very exciting,” Xiang said, “and I believe from watching your nipples that you are also turned on, Barbara and Linda. What shall we do about this? Oh yes, I am in command this week, is that right?”

We all chorused, “Yes, Supreme Lady!”

“Then come up to my room, and we will discuss our attraction to obedient boys in great detail with sympathetic listeners.”

I went back down to the living room a couple of hours later, and found the boys all sound asleep. Pat and Janet were cuddling in a double sleeping bag. “Don’t worry about the boys’ trances wearing off,” Pat said quietly. “They went to sleep in response to our commands, and we’ll wake them up at 3 in the morning for another session. In the meantime, they are doing dream homework while they sleep. Look them over! Can you tell which one is dreaming about surrender to a woman right now?”

I spotted my favorite Cliff right away. He was smiling, and he had a solid erection. “I think I see one,” I replied. “I hope he’s dreaming about me!”

“Make sure!” Janet urged me. “If you can get to him without tripping over anybody, put your hand on his forehead, and murmur in his ear, “This is your Goddess Barbara. Dream happy dreams of me!”

I did that, and I felt sure Cliff had accepted my command. I went to bed happy.

On Sunday, we continued to feed our boys and to take them to the bathroom during breaks between their training sessions. As we had lunch, with the boys put down for a nap, Pat came in the kitchen and asked if we were willing to grant our boys the privilege of going down on us as part of their training. She explained, “They probably won’t remember it consciously; in fact, most of them will have amnesia for the whole weekend. It’s just too different from their everyday state of consciousness. So this won’t affect your future relations with any of them, unless you want it to. The question is, do you want to help your boys surrender by letting them serve your pleasure?”

We looked around and giggled, but all nodded. Then Xiang said, “I am glad you all chose correctly; now I command you to enjoy it!” We happily replied, “Yes, Supreme Lady!” Pat shook her head and said, “You young ladies are a bunch of preeverts! No wonder I feel at home in your house!”

When Pat called us in, we lined up before the kneeling boys again. Each boy recited a new piece of his training: “The purpose of sex is female pleasure. Cunnilingus is the best sex, because it is the most focused on pleasing a woman. Going down on a woman is my favorite kind of sex. For the rest of my life, whenever a woman asks me how I would like to make love with her, I will freely choose oral worship a thousand times out of a thousand.”

We rewarded each of them with a chorus of Goddesses saying, “Good boy!” Then each of us picked two boys to service her. I nabbed Cliff first, of course. I tried to get Curtis, the tall black dude, for my second pleasure slave, but I lost that footrace to Xiang. Each of us told her boys exactly what to do to please her most, and reveled in their helpless obedience.

After we were completely satisfied, each of us stood over her two slaves while Pat and Janet made them put condoms on, then guided them all to intense orgasms with no touching, just from the thought of obeying women, the sight of our bodies, and the taste of our pussy juices. We glowed with pleasure at rewarding our boys for obedience like this. As we guided the boys into the bathroom again to clean up, I said to Pat, “I bet you gave them all that Flavor-of-the-Month programming you gave us, didn’t you?”

She grinned and nodded. “That’s a bet you’d win! All chocolate, to start with, but you can change your chosen slave to taste you as whatever he likes-or whatever you want.”

In the late afternoon, Pat and Janet tidied up the brainwashing they had done, and gradually guided the boys back to planet Earth. We had ordered pizza for dinner, but this time we sat around the dining table while our boys waited on us. I was pleased to see that they all seemed to find this completely natural, and if any of them noticed he was still stark naked, he didn’t care.

Each boy agreed to two hours a day of service during the next week to drive the lessons home. We agreed to meet again the following Saturday morning to discuss the experience and resolve any difficulties. Pat gave all the boys her pager number in case of problems. “Bad reactions are rare, but people are funny. You are valuable slaves now, and we are willing to go to some extra trouble if necessary to take good care of you!”

Chapter 10: Daily Devotion

We worked out a rotating schedule to make sure that each boy got his scheduled workouts during the next week, without too much burden on any one of us. We made them do household chores, personal services like brushing our hair or carrying our book bags on campus, and whatever we could think of. The service task I enjoyed the most also caused our first dropout: being a shopping slave. Many males think the mall is a place where you go, get what you need, and get out in under thirty minutes. It was good discipline for our slaves to find that they had to follow wherever they were led, carrying packages uncomplainingly, and standing without moving or speaking while one of us tried on fourteen pairs of shoes. That was exactly what Kathy had done to Randy on Tuesday night, and when she tried to lead him into another shoe store after that, he rebelled.

“But Randy, you have to do as I say because I’m your Goddess,” she reminded him.

“Not any more, babe!” he snarled. “This was a great sex game, but I don’t like the way it’s going. I think your price just got too high.” Then he stomped off.

Kathy called me in tears; Randy had been her favorite boy. I sent the slave I was working that evening to pick her up, and called Pat for advice. “Let him go for now,” she said. “He sounds too superficial to bother with, unless there’s some reason to take him down later. He’ll never know what a wonderful life he’s missing out on.”

After I calmed her down, Kathy admitted that she had been misled by Randy’s studmuffin appearance, and had imagined personal qualities that were not really there. “Living in a fantasy world again, slave girl?” I asked her. “I’m afraid so, Mistress,” she admitted.

Our next two dropouts happened in a more regular way. They asked to be released on the following Saturday, giving sensible reasons. Mendel said, “I think this is the most fun I’ve ever had in my life, but I find I have religious scruples about it I just can’t get over. I guess I’ll have to settle for a nice girl I meet at temple, and hope she has a bossy streak.”

“You’re a Jewish fundamentalist!” Linda laughed.

“Something like that...” And since Linda was the one who had brought Mendel into the group, if she could laugh about his opting out, it was OK with the rest of us.

Curtis also had a good reason for not continuing as our slave; none of us were black “I love obeying women, hear what I’m saying? But the woman I belong to for keeps has just got to be a sister. Nothing personal...”

We agreed to stay in touch, and soon had made a connection for Curtis with Rita, a real Nubian queen who had thought about joining Pat’s private class, and had been keeping up with the results with fascination. Xiang and I filled her in on the cues Curtis was conditioned to respond to, and she quickly gained a great deal of control over him. When she decided he was what she wanted long term, they had a private appointment with Pat in her office, and when they walked out of that meeting, arm in arm and both smiling, Curtis was Rita’s property. Even though he was no longer serving us, we had to count Curtis a success for our training program.

The other five boys all said they were happy with the training and wanted to continue, but Dave seemed nervous. At first he wouldn’t tell us why, but as soon as I pulled off my halter top he remembered his new place in the scheme of things and surrendered. “It’s my hometown girlfriend Melanie,” he admitted. “She called last night, and made me tell her what I’ve been doing. She’s driving over here tomorrow with fire in her eye. She wants to talk to you about who owns me!”

For some reason he didn’t seem reassured when we went off into gales of laughter. We promised to talk to Melanie and reach a consensus about where he belonged. “And I don’t have to be in the room?” he asked with relief. “Certainly not,” I told him firmly. “The women in your life will decide your fate, and whatever we agree on, you will do!”

“Yes, Goddess!” he agreed happily, and I was happy too when I saw all of our other four boys nodding in acceptance. This now seemed like a perfectly reasonable arrangement to them, too.

Melanie turned out to be quite charming, once she accepted that Dave had forgotten to tell us that a woman already had a ring in his nose. She was fascinated to hear about our training program, and eager to take advantage of Dave. She took pages of notes as we told her what buttons she could now push in his mind. Then we called Dave in.

“Lover,” she told him sweetly, “these women have made a good start at training you, but now you’re coming home to me. I will give you all the female power you could ever use, do you understand me?”

“Yes, Melanie,” he mumbled.

“Go around the room and tell your other Goddesses you were a silly boy and you’re sorry you misled them.”

As Dave obeyed this command, each of us gave him his basic hypnotic reinduction trigger: a tap on the forehead with a finger and the words “GIRL POWER!” spoken in his ear. Each time, he went out like a light. Each of us told him that all the power she had gained over him was now in Melanie, and her will was irresistible to him. Then Melanie put him under the same way, and repeated the same suggestions. He woke up kneeling before Melanie and looking up to her, but at once he bowed down to her and kissed her feet. “Melanie, you are my perfect Goddess, and I exist to please you,” he said. “Please, my wise woman, tell me what to do!”

Melanie looked around at the rest of us and said simply, “Thank you, sisters. I really appreciate what you’ve done for me. I hate to run off, but I’ve just got to test drive my new slave!”

We broke up again, but managed to tell her that we understood.

Chapter 11: Closer and Deeper

We continued to give each of our slaves daily reinforcement of his new way of being. Every Friday night, they gathered at our house for a relaxed discussion of their experiences that week. I was amazed at how frankly they brought out any uncooperative thoughts and feelings they were having, until I realized that this was not an adversary process. The boys wanted to be totally under our power, and were helping us move them toward that goal. Then we put them under for a joint hypnosis session, and added or changed commands to help them obey more perfectly and enjoy it more. Then each boy worshipped his Goddess sexually. What kind of sex? Well, we always gave them a choice...As Cliff explained to me, “It feels like I’m freely choosing to go down on you; it’s just that there are no other choices!”

Each of us was in closest contact with the boy of her choice, but each made sure he offered deep respect and instant obedience to our three sisters. Cliff was mine; Olav served Linda. Bill had arrived hoping to serve Kathy, and Wing Lee had expected to belong to Xiang, but they discovered they got along best the other way around, so they swapped. I asked Xiang what her parents would think of her marrying a Dutch-American. “I told them my plan last weekend,” she said proudly. “It was a good time; I had just told them I love three women for always, so my ears were still ringing from their reaction. They screamed in English, Mandarin, Vietnamese, and Chu-Toy County dialect, getting louder each time! The idea that I will marry a man who is not Asian was almost acceptable by comparison. Better pink grandchildren than none at all!”

The rest of us had broken the news about our changed orientation to our parents as well. None of them were thrilled, but none got intolerably ugly about it. I guess they could see how much we had grown up in this relationship, so we must be doing something right...And for us, too, the news of marriage plans was calming.

For our senior year, we moved our boys into the house with us. The landlord grumbled about the number of occupants, but accepted a reasonable surcharge. The boys were happy to get closer to us, with frequent opportunities to do us small services, and we charged them less rent than they had been paying before. “We intend to keep you in financial servitude,” I explained, “but that will work better when we all have more money.” We were happy to find that owning boys enhanced our lifestyle tremendously. In spite of their needs for our time and attention, they didn’t really interfere with our relationship with each other very much, either. We had taught them all an attitude of awed respect toward lesbian sexuality; they all wanted to watch, and help, but they accepted that this would be a privilege of perfect slavery, and we would decide when and how to grant it.

As we began preparing for a joint wedding, we also began talking to recruiters about jobs after graduation. We agreed to limit ourselves to jobs in the nearest booming big city, which has a district of affordable big old houses near downtown, so that we could all live together and continue to share our lives and our husbands.

When I delivered her wedding invitation to Pat, I closed her office door and said, “Come clean about the Until Graduation story you started us off with. Was that always meant to be a scam?”

She blushed, but briefly tried to brazen it out. “Some women do go straight again after college, and think back tenderly on their woman-loving years as a youthful escapade they don’t need to repeat.”

“Come on! How many?”

“Well, probably two of your ten...” Then she started talking to me as a sister. “Hey, I’m a missionary lesbian, OK? And missionary means different things, but one of them is con artist, all right? I’m getting women to try something I really like, which I think they’ll really like, and one of the ways I do that is to kid them about how easy it would be to give up once they do like it. You’re one of my victims, if I have any; do you regret the changes I put you through?”

I moved up close and looked her in the eye. “Not a bit!” I said, and kissed her.

So there you are; that’s what becoming a BUG turned out to mean for me. What do you think? Is Pat a crook, or is she doing a good thing? The answer is left as an exercise for the student.