The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The three weeks Janet was on vacation dragged by for Irene. She wasn’t quite the office recluse in the way Janet was— she had more than two close friends among her coworkers. She didn’t do most of her work with the door shut all day, either; she chatted with everyone who passed her by, since she left her door open. And unlike Janet, Irene did have something of a personal life outside of work.

But still, the three weeks in which Janet was gone dragged for her. Though Irene did have other friends at the office, there was just something about Janet that was unique to her. Irene felt her absence strongly the whole time she was gone.

She knew Donna did, too. As Irene and Donna were Janet’s closest friends at their workplace, the three of them ate most of their lunches together, and went on frequent coffee breaks through the day to the little coffeeshop down in the lobby of their building.

Without Janet there, Donna and Irene still ate their lunches together, and with some of their other coworkers joining them in Janet’s absence. And they still went down for coffee breaks to the same coffeeshop.

They had a good time, just the two of them, as they were close friends in their own right. But Irene and Donna did talk about Janet’s absence. When they ate their lunches alone, or went for coffee alone, they commiserated about missing her.

They didn’t do it so much when they ate lunch in a wider group of people. It wasn’t that Janet was disliked in the office— on the contrary. Though she mostly kept to herself (apart from her friendships with Irene and Donna), she had a reputation for being a diligent and skilled worker.

In fact, she worked so hard that most people around the office felt a little sorry for her— sometimes even outright worried about her. No one took offense to her standoffishness; sometimes jokes could be heard around the water cooler that ‘genius needed its own way’— Janet only got so much done and done so well because of her strange quirks, and they could easily forgive her for them. She was held in a kind of affectionate esteem, though her interactions with most of the others were usually strictly tied to the work related topics.

But commiserating with Donna while in a larger group with the others wasn’t the thing. Janet’s absence was noticed by their other coworkers because of her work piling up. But they didn’t miss her presence or personality the way Irene knew she and Donna both did. There was no point in talking about that in front of people who just didn’t get it.

But one of the things that made Janet’s absence feel stranger than it otherwise might have was how quick and out of the blue it had been. Maybe Irene would have felt it less acutely if she’d had some forewarning. And frankly, it was unlike Janet to suddenly book a vacation and disappear for three weeks.

Janet moved slowly. She was the type to plan something for months before she actually acted on it. The way Janet went vacationing was to plan somewhere to take a vacation to— a vacation full of scheduled activities and time frames, for maximized productivity.

There should have been months of listening to Janet talk about her developing plans, months of seeing Janet carrying guidebooks around and sneaking five minutes to read them here and there. Months of Janet reporting on what each different guidebook said exactly, how this one compared to that one, and so on.

And then finally, after all this research, Janet would choose the block of time to book off, and announce that. And even that likely would have been the process of a few weeks’ time, in which Janet would have weighed this period of time against that period of time, given various factors.

The thing was, Janet didn’t even take vacations her way. Janet didn’t take vacations period. Donna and Irene teased her about it, and tried to talk her into it, but she wouldn’t budge. There had been an air of shock in the office when Irene had spread the word that Janet was finally dipping into her vacation time.

After the shock had receded, the general consensus among the workplace seemed to be, ‘good for Janet, about time she eased up a bit.’ And while Irene had been wishing for Janet’s sake that she would take some time off… she couldn’t quite get on board with the consensus. There was something… off… about the way Janet had taken this vacation.

She hadn’t done it her way, and she should have. She should have gone through a protracted, months-long decision-making process to arrive at her conclusion, because that was who Janet was.

She wasn’t someone who called on the first morning of her vacation to say she’d be taking three weeks off. She wasn’t someone who called and booked three weeks off without having anywhere to go, or anything planned to do. Janet didn’t do things on a whim. It wasn’t her.

As one of Irene’s responsibilities was to manage banked time, and booking leave, she’d actually been the one to take Janet’s call that morning. And she’d been so stunned she’d barely gotten through it. On the one hand, she’d been happy for her friend. She and Donna made no secret of the fact that they worried about how hard Janet worked. So, it was a relief to think Janet might finally be unwinding a bit, and Irene thought some of that had even come through in her own tone of voice.

But on the other hand, it was completely out of character for her. The whole call was out of character, right down to what Janet had said. When Irene asked her where she was going, and what she was going to do, and Janet had only given the non-committal response that she was going to ‘take it easy.’ No concrete plans, no trip to another place. Just ‘taking it easy,’ presumably by hanging around her own apartment.

Well, other people might take three-week vacations to hang around their own apartments, and good for them— but not Janet. She couldn’t stand to waste time, and Irene knew for a fact that Janet considered time spent hanging around her home, during working hours, a waste of time. For god’s sake, Janet could barely be convinced to take a single day off, let alone fifteen.

It had left a bad taste in Irene’s mouth. She tried to spend Janet’s three-week absence happy for her friend. And she tried to hold on to her initial feeling of relief that finally, finally Janet was taking time for herself. But all the same, she couldn’t quite get past that sense of wrongness.

So apart from the fact that Irene did genuinely miss Janet during her vacation, part of her was also, on some level, worried about her. That made the three week period drag on longer than it otherwise might have. Irene was impatient for Janet to get back not only so Irene could be in her company again, but so she could prove to herself that there was nothing wrong. That everything was fine, and Janet had just taken the much-needed break that everyone around the office agreed would be good for her.

Irene only shared some of these thoughts with Donna. When she had expressed her concern early into Janet’s vacation, Donna had disagreed with her, and the two of them had argued. It wasn’t an intense argument, or one that left bad feelings in its wake— but it was an argument, nonetheless. After that, Irene had kept the rest of her concerns to herself.

She told herself that Donna had probably been right— that there was nothing to worry about, and Janet taking time off was a good thing, even if it meant they missed her.

Still, on the day that Janet was scheduled to come back to work, Irene felt a bit more of an ease in her shoulders. Janet’s return was a relief to her: she could finally put her worrying to bed and see for herself that everything was fine.

That day, as usual, Janet arrived early, and stopped in Irene’s doorway to make idle chatter. She had only stayed around her own place, she said— caught up on so much needed rest. It was the only comment she had to offer on her vacation before she moved on to other, more general topics.

It was a pleasant social interaction that should have set Irene’s mind at ease, should have kept the tension from returning to her shoulders. But though Janet seemed herself… she was also not. Even in this strange, bizarre alternate dimension where Janet took time off to hang around the house, the idea that she had only “rested” and done nothing else was incomprehensible.

If Janet absolutely had to stay at her place, she should have taken the opportunity to reorganize all her belongings according to some new system she’d read an article about. Or she should have done some reading from the list of books she’d been meaning to get to. She should be standing in front of Irene right now, giving a tireless account of how she’d reorganized, or what she’d read. A passionate, tireless account which Irene actually would have been delighted to sit and listen to.

Janet’s single-minded drive was really passion, and she was passionate even about the mundane tasks most other people overlooked or considered boring. And Irene always enjoyed hearing Janet speak passionately about her interests, however mundane they might have seemed to someone else.

But Janet had nothing to report; there was no passionate fire in her. And for all that Janet seemed fine, seemed pleasant, seemed well— that absence was more alarming to Irene than if Janet had stumbled into the office bleeding.

Irene’s day after that got busy, so she didn’t have a chance to stop by Donna’s desk and consult with her. Before she knew it, it was already lunch, and she was sitting down to eat with Janet and Donna, just like usual. There was nothing so out of the ordinary about their lunch; except Janet still seemed to be missing that fire which was typical of her.

Janet was the first one to clear her place and go back to her desk. This was typical, but not enough to offset Irene’s concern. She took the opportunity to ask Donna if she thought Irene seemed strange. The only comment Donna had to offer was that Janet seemed to have mellowed a little— but that this was probably overdue.

Irene went back to work herself, with that same feeling of unease gnawing at her gut. She was able to lose herself in her work again, and that carried her through to the rest of the day.

The end of the day came, like it often did, with Janet once again standing in Irene’s doorway, making friendly conversation. But this conversation swerved out of familiar territory into the very unfamiliar when Janet asked, “Did you want to come by my apartment for dinner?”

This threw Irene. She and Donna were close to Janet— closer than anyone else in the office. And they probably were Janet’s two best friends, since she didn’t really have a social life outside of the office. But even they had never been invited home to Janet’s apartment for a visit.

And again, this was out of character. If Janet had ever decided to invite them over, she would have given lots of advance notice. She wouldn’t just stop by on the way out the door at the end of the night to ask them to come along.

But Irene was curious. And she was still holding onto the hope that she was only imagining a non-existent problem. And so she agreed.

Janet smiled and remarked that they should stop by and ask Donna, too, on their way out. Irene got her things together, and followed Janet to Donna’s desk.

And unlike at lunch, when Janet extended her late notice dinner invitation, Donna actually looked shocked too. She agreed anyway, and then joined the two of them. But as Irene and Donna walked out, just a few steps back from Janet, Donna did take a second to lean in close.

“Maybe you were right, after lunch,” she said. “This, at least, really isn’t like her.”

Janet’s apartment wasn’t too far from their office. Actually, that was why Janet had chosen it. She’d lived further away before she’d started working there. But a few months into her job, (and incidentally, after she’d also befriended Irene and Donna), she’d made it her project to find a place close enough that she could walk to work in fifteen minutes or less.

As Janet had set herself to the task with the single-minded devotion typical of her, she’d found what she was looking for. So, as the three women made the walk together that night, Irene knew for a fact the walk back to Janet’s was taking them fifteen minutes to complete.

They passed the bar Janet sometimes liked to stop in at as they made their journey. While Donna and Irene had never before crossed the threshold of Janet’s home, they had on occasion been invited to Janet’s bar. Irene was sure they were the only two who had been given that privilege. Even as they passed it, Irene couldn’t help but think of it as Janet’s. The affection she held for it was almost proprietary in nature; it seemed to belong to her, since her appreciation of it was so strong.

After that it was only a few minutes further to reach Janet’s place: an apartment tucked into a building which only held three others, spanning two floors. Janet lead them confidently inside, and then through the door to right-hand side of the entrance— evidently, hers.

Janet crossed into her apartment first, then Donna followed, and Irene went through last.

As soon as all three were across the threshold, the door was shut firmly behind them. As Janet had gone through first, and Irene last, it should have been Irene’s task to shut the door. But she hadn’t had the chance: someone else had been waiting in the room, on the other side of the door, to push it closed.

When the door shut in the frame, both Irene and Donna turned to look.

And when Irene saw who had pushed the door closed, she felt her stomach drop. “You,” she said, a knife’s edge to her tone.

“Yes,” Valentia replied, her hand confidently rising to bolt the door in place. “Me.” She said, and turned the lock.

“I thought I’d seen the last of you,” Irene said, not caring how stiff her tone was.

“You thought I would just slip quietly away?” Valentia asked, putting a hand to her chest to indicate herself. “I know we only dated for a few months, Irene, but you should know me better than that. I do not slip quietly away. And I wasn’t quite ready to let you slip my grasp either.”

What could Valentia mean by such an ominous statement? And— what was she doing at Janet’s? The shock of seeing a familiar figure re-emerge from her past had been enough to throw Irene for a second, but it only took her a few seconds longer than that to regroup herself on the other side of it.

Turning away from Valentia, Irene became aware of the room again— Donna was standing just a step back from her, and Janet two steps further behind her. Donna looked surprised at this turn of events, but Janet looked placidly unconcerned. Irene couldn’t think why, but that bothered her.

She didn’t have more than a second to consider that, because Valentia was speaking to her again.

“I told you how things were going to be, Irene,” she said. “I told you, and you had all but agreed to it, only to turn your back on me at the last second and throw me over. Very impolite— not to mention that I’ve never had someone slip through my fingers the way you did. I can’t just let that stand. And I absolutely couldn’t just let you be.”

Irene was feeling as angry as she had when she’d first seen Valentia standing there— but now, she was feeling upset beyond that anger. This was personal— this was private, and how dare Valentia air all of this out in front of Donna and Janet?

Irene was fairly honest and open with both Donna and Janet in most things, save for her dating life. Even that she did share about on occasion. But dating wasn’t a topic the three of them often discussed. Donna was interested in men, but hadn’t had a good relationship for some time, and was happier being single, so she rarely had anything to report.

Both Irene and Janet liked women, (and in the back of Irene’s mind sometimes she had wondered…) but Janet was completely dedicated to her work, and as she had almost no private social life to speak of, this also meant she really didn’t date. Irene thought maybe sometimes Janet had casual hook-ups, but she’d never cared to ask and confirm.

Irene, unlike either Donna and Janet, did date, and pretty frequently. So, when she had some relationship news to chat about, she didn’t often feel like sharing it. With Donna, it seemed in bad taste to brag about her relationship prowess in front of someone who was in the midst of a long dry spell.

But in the case of Janet… it was a little different. Even now, Irene found herself more concerned about what Janet might be thinking about the fact that she had dated Valentia than she was about what Donna might think.

Still, she did sometimes share what was happening in her love life. But she had not shared about Valentia, because Valentia had been different, and not in a good way. Her brief relationship with Valentia had been confusing, and not a little disturbing. She’d been too ashamed to raise it with her friends. During the time she’d been with Valentia, Irene had found her thoughts drifting, had found herself spacing out, losing time frequently throughout her days. And Valentia had spent a lot of time speaking nonsense that looped back on itself in circles, which only exacerbated Irene’s strange symptoms.

It had taken Irene longer than it probably should have to put it together that there was a name for what Valentia was trying to do (or successfully doing) to her. That name was hypnosis— and when Irene had put it together, she’d confronted Valentia about it. Valentia had not even tried to deny it— only reinforced that it was inevitable that Irene give into her control. That night, she’d actually talked Irene into agreeing to let Valentia brainwash and program her as much as she wanted to.

But the next morning, Irene had come to her senses, and decided to leave while the leaving was good; before she lost her chance. Before she didn’t want to leave any longer. She’d sent Valentia a curt text to end the relationship, and then promptly blocked her number.

To her relief, Valentia had not made a nuisance of herself after this, so Irene had thought the whole business was behind her.

Until she had found Valentia standing, very unpleasantly, in her present again, resurrected out of the past.

“I told you once, Valentia,” Irene said. “The two of us are finished. It doesn’t matter if you agree or not. It’s not your decision to make. I ended it, so it’s over.”

Valentia took a step forward. “It’s far from over; but then, you’ll see that yourself, soon enough.”

Irene turned to look back to Donna or Janet for support, but the image she turned back to was more alarming than the sudden appearance of Valentia in her present.

At some point while she’d been speaking to Valentia, Janet had caught Donna off-guard. She’d gotten a gag into her mouth, and evidently bound her arms behind her back. She’d since gotten Donna over to one of her dining chairs, which she had moved from her dining room into the living room. She now had Donna caught, in the chair, and was very unceremoniously stripping her naked.

The bizarreness of the scene might have thrown Irene, if she hadn’t known Valentia. But seeing this disturbing tableau in front of her turned a key in a lock inside her mind, and she understood. At least, she understood what had been bugging her about Janet before.

When Janet had stood, behind Donna, with that unbothered expression on her face, it had bothered Irene because it was like her friendly demeanor had peeled off to reveal there was nothing underneath. It was a mask she had put on, but once she was back in the safety of her own home, it had come off without so much as a thought. As if Janet’s default state was a state of open, unconcerned attentiveness. Just waiting for an instruction. Just waiting for a task. The fire, and the drive that made Janet Janet, her sense of self-determination— gone. And pasted over with general friendliness that could be put on or taken off as needed. Which meant—

Irene turned back to Valentia with a sense of growing horror. “You’ve done it to Janet, haven’t you?”

“Done what?” Valentia pressed, taking a step closer to Irene. Irene stood her ground, forcing herself not to step back. “Brainwashed her? Hypnotized her? Made her little more than my mindless thrall?”

Irene swallowed. She’d gotten away before Valentia’s control of her had become total, but that didn’t mean she was immune. Clearly, there were still strings in her mind to pull, and it seemed that Valentia intended to pull them. Hearing her speak those phrases did something to her… unbalanced her, when she needed to be thinking clearly.

She needed to get past Valentia, and go for help… go to someone. Even as she thought of it, she felt hopelessly alone. Who would listen? The mask that had come off of Janet would just as easily go back on, and Donna—

Donna. Irene felt a pang in her stomach. She’d been ready to run out of there to find help for Janet before she’d even thought of Donna, who was still tied to the chair, and was probably naked by now.

She turned back towards Donna, turning her back on Valentia. Before she could even think of helping Janet, she had to help Donna. She couldn’t just leave her there. She had to — somehow — fight Janet and Valentia back, get Donna free, and then the two of them had to make a break for it—

When she was facing Donna again, she realized: there was a second chair.

It was only a few steps to the right of the first, turned so that it was at a diagonal angle from it.

Irene only had a second to put together in her head what the chair was for, before she felt something behind her back. It was a further second before she realized that Valentia was binding her hands together. She tried to turn, but Valentia had already tied her wrists, and tightly.

Irene didn’t have the leverage to swing her arms out, or turn to the side enough to see Valentia or what she was doing. She wanted to struggle, tried to, but couldn’t.

Valentia only clucked at her. “None of that, Irene. Besides, you don’t need to worry yet. You’re not the one who’s going first.”

Irene struggled again, as Valentia marched her to her chair, and forced her down into place. But with her arms pressed so tightly to each other, and pinned so painfully behind her back, she could barely move her upper body— let alone her arms.

In the end, there was nowhere for her to go but where Valentia was leading her. And her bonds were shifted to accommodate her new position, so they could keep her bound to the back of the chair while letting her arms hang out lower, around the sides of it.

She’d been positioned so that she was perfectly facing Donna— and Irene really wished that she wasn’t. Her friend was still gagged, and now naked from the top down. Irene had never seen Donna naked before— she had never wanted to, And now she felt terribly sorry for Donna, who must have felt humiliated to be stripped bare in front of Irene, and to have been stripped down by Janet!

Janet, having finished securing Donna, was once more standing in place with the same unbothered look as before. As Irene had guessed, this was clearly her default now, to Irene’s dismay.

But Valentia was still somewhere behind Irene— she had not stepped any closer towards Donna.

“Slave,” Valentia spoke, clearly addressing Janet. It bothered Irene to hear her friend addressed in such a way— like she wasn’t even a person, only a belonging. She hated Valentia, in that moment. She had disliked her before, had thought she was a disturbing, frightening figure, but had not hated her.

She hated her now, for snuffing out Janet’s fire. Hated her for erasing her friend, and turning her into her pet. She wished there was something she could do— some way she could get free— She struggled fruitlessly against her restraints.

“Slave,” Valentia repeated, and this time Janet looked to her. “You may begin programming that one,” she instructed.

‘That one.’ A reference as similarly impersonal as the reference to Janet had been. Donna was Donna. Not an unnamed figure, undeserving of recognition.

Irene realized that the only thing left to do was scream. If she screamed, at least someone from one of the other three apartments would hear the scream and come looking. And whether or not Janet could put the mask of normal human behavior back on, there was no way Valentia and Janet could cover up what was clearly a hostage situation. Then someone would help them— they would have to.

But when Irene opened her mouth to scream, Valentia gagged her, just as Janet had done to Donna. Irene tried to scream all the same, but to her disappointment, it came out as little more than a muffled grunt.

Having received instruction from Valentia, Janet was no longer static. She was eagerly and enthusiastically disrobing herself now, and this made Irene uncomfortable too— though in a different way than Donna’s nakedness did.

If Irene was being entirely honest, she had to admit that she had thought about seeing Janet naked… and she had not only thought about it, but had wanted to.

It was the kind of thing she tried not to reflect on too much. But the fact was, she did think about it sometimes at night.

Janet had made the odd passing remark about having ‘flings.’ Janet was not a crass person, but Irene had read between the lines and understood. And both Janet and Irene knew the other liked women. There had been times where that mutual awareness had seemed almost oppressive; like it was filling all the space between them, on those occasions that the two of them were alone, without Donna.

And at night, sometimes, Irene hadn’t been able to keep her thoughts from turning to the memory of Janet and her ‘flings.’ What kind of lover was she? Did that same fire and drive translate into the bedroom? Sometimes she let her mind wander long enough along those lines to feel arousal starting to creep up on her.

Irene always stopped short of outright masturbating to those thoughts, because then they wouldn’t have been harmless, idle thoughts anymore. Then they would have been explicit fantasies, of one her best friends— and to respect her friend’s autonomy, she just couldn’t allow herself to fantasize that way.

One of the idle questions she did allow herself to ask — many times — in the past was about Janet’s naked body. Irene had always thought Janet had a nice face, and a good figure. She liked women; she did have they eyes to appreciate that kind of thing. And part of her had cared enough to wish she could actually find out the answer.

But Irene was not someone who had ‘flings.’ She only dated a person if she was confident the relationship might go somewhere. And though she’d shown remarkably bad judgement in giving Valentia a chance, at the time, before Valentia had showed her true nature, she’d seemed like a viable candidate for a serious commitment.

Just as Irene did not date unless there was a chance of a more serious commitment, she also did not sleep with her partner unless a serious commitment had already been made.

She’d only slept with a few people in her life, and all only in relationships that had lasted longer than a year (and in most cases, multiple years). She hadn’t even slept with Valentia. Only three months together wasn’t long enough for her to step things up to the level of intercourse.

So, when Irene had wondered about what Janet looked like naked, she’d also understood that the only way she’d ever actually get to see that was if the two of them were dating, and had been dating for a while.

And just like Irene knew that Janet had flings, Janet knew that Irene was a bit of a serial monogamist— and that she didn’t do flings. There was kind of an unspoken understanding between the two of them, or so Irene had thought. That if Janet — who for whatever reason seemed unwilling to get into anything more serious than a fling — changed her mind, Irene was there, and would be interested. Likewise, Irene had understood that if she — equally uninterested in flings as Janet was in commitments — changed her mind, Janet was there, and would be interested.

Irene had not changed her mind, as curious as she was to see Janet naked, because she suspected she wouldn’t be able to keep herself from wanting a more serious relationship, even if initially she enjoyed being with Janet for the sake of casual sex. There was chemistry between the two of them, or at least there had been— they clicked as a pair in a way that Donna never clicked with either one of them. Irene had always thought if that chemistry ever ignited into a relationship, be it a physical relationship or something more serious, it would be impressive.

But she had relegated her daydreams about Janet’s body to the back of her mind. If she changed her mind, she knew where Janet was. If Janet changed her mind, she knew where Irene was.

It had never occurred to Irene in a thousand years that she would be seeing Janet naked in this scenario.

It made the whole experience more unpleasant. Naked Janet looked much better than even Irene’s most detailed mental image— her breasts were large, and luscious, and her frame was well-built to support them and show them off. Her skin was smooth and almost without blemish— really, the image she presented was a thing of beauty.

But this was the wrong way to be seeing her naked. Janet wasn’t Janet anymore— she wasn’t like she’d been before. It was like a stranger was inside Janet’s body, like a stranger was wearing Janet’s face. So as much as part of Irene was attracted to the sight of Janet, it was overshadowed by the part of her that was deeply disturbed by Janet’s wrongness.

Once Janet had stripped herself naked, she took a few steps closer to Donna, who was still tied to the chair, until she was only an inch or two back from her. Donna turned her face away, and closed her eyes. Clearly, she didn’t want to see her friend like this— and of all three of them, Irene felt the most sorry for Donna. She shouldn’t be a part of this. There was an unspoken thing between Janet and Irene. And Irene had been entangled with Valentia before, Janet had clearly gotten caught up with her since, but Donna had nothing to do with any of that. She should have been left out of this— roping her in was beyond cruel.

“You can close your eyes if you like,” Janet said, her voice more level and serene than Irene had ever heard it. “It won’t matter. If you listen to me long enough, you will want to open them again. You will want to open them again, and watch me. But until you do, I can describe what you’re missing. You can’t plug your ears, Donna. Your arms are tied to the chair.”

Judging by the distressed look on the side of Donna’s face that Irene could see, Donna knew this. Janet, as she had been through this entire interaction, was perfectly calm. It didn’t disturb her to be displaying herself in front of her friend, didn’t bother her that she’d taken her own friend captive and was forcing her to participate in something that was clearly upsetting her.

For Irene, it was just another reminder that Janet wasn’t Janet anymore. Janet would have cared— would have never done this.

“I’m putting my hands on my tits, now, Donna. I’m putting my hands on them, and kneading them with my hands. You can’t see it, but all my titflesh is shifting to my every touch. It’s a mesmerizing image to watch. If you could see it, it would already be wiping all your thoughts away… if you could see it, the image alone would be powerful enough to start softening your mind up. Just watching my beautiful, big, hypnotic tits would be enough to start sending you into trance, and hypnotizing you…”

Donna pressed her eyes more tightly closed together, and turned her face more drastically to the side. She was as far to the side of her chair as her bonds would let her go— but she couldn’t block the words out.

Irene couldn’t either. And she almost couldn’t forgive herself for it, but the image of Janet manipulating her own breasts was turning her on. It was grotesque, horrible, wrong to see Janet used this way; to know that Valentia had made her into this, and was still using her at this very moment. And still, the image was no less appealing to Irene.

“When you see hypnotic tits like mine, it just makes your mind want to fall open and accept programming. You could just sit and watch them forever, letting them wash your thoughts away… letting them wash your brain all clean, to accept the programming of our Dark Goddess…”

Donna was shaking her head.

“Yes, Donna,” Janet said, still working her breasts. “I said our Dark Goddess, because she is yours too. You are going to belong to her— so is Irene. We will all belong to her together, and help bring others to her, under her instruction. It’s only a matter of time. You only have to sit there long enough… eventually, you will be ready to accept programming… you will open your eyes, and see me standing here, palming my breasts for you, and you will feel your resistance start to slip away…”

Irene felt herself twinge between her legs. A lot of these talking points were sounding very familiar to her; and she hated that. The circular way Janet was speaking was clearly something she had learned from Valentia. Valentia had never been so crude in the inductions she had run on Irene, because she’d known Irene was a less overtly sexual person. But she had still talked Irene around in circles, the way Janet was doing to Donna right now.

And those old hooks that Valentia had slipped into Irene’s mind were still there. And though Janet wasn’t focusing on her, hearing her talk in this wandering, twisting way was tugging on them. She could remember how it had felt, when Valentia had induced her… remembered how sleepy and happy a feeling it had been…

She snapped herself out of it. She wouldn’t, she couldn’t give in to this programming. Especially since they weren’t even focused on her yet! She couldn’t let Valentia win, when she despised her as she did. There had to be a way to escape— had to be a way to deprogram Janet, and deprogram Donna too, if Donna failed to resist.

She reminded herself that she had resisted Valentia before— that Valentia herself had said Irene was the only one who had ever slipped through her fingers. If she could hold out again, this time, keep her head on straight enough to get through this… then she just might be able to undo whatever damage Valentia had done. She just hoped Donna could resist like she could.

“It doesn’t matter that your eyes are closed, Donna,” Janet said, still patiently kneading her own breasts in the same repetitive motion. “I’m already brainwashing you… my words are getting in through your ears, and soaking into your brain. It feels good to listen to my soothing voice, doesn’t it? It makes you want to do anything I say… I already have you under my power…

“Except it isn’t my power… I’m working on our Goddess’ behalf… she’s lent this to me. She has allowed me to be her vessel, in order to enslave and enthral you… I am only her thrall, to be used as her vessel when she wants, or as her object when she prefers that. It will be so for you, also… so even as you listen to my words, as you feel them coaxing your mind into calmness, you understand that Goddess is speaking through my mouth… that it is Goddess who fills me, and who will fill you… and the longer you listen to her, listen to her through me… the more you belong to her…”

The shaking of Donna’s head had slowed, and a fatigue seemed to have fallen over her body. To have entered into her muscles, and weighed them down. Her eyes were still closed, her face still turned away… but her position was much less obviously defiant.

It disturbed Irene.

“You hoped she could resist?” It was Valentia, speaking over her shoulder— Irene had been so simultaneously horrified and captivated by the unfolding image in front of her that she’d forgotten about the other woman’s presence in the room. But now, she could feel that Valentia was kneeling behind her chair, kneeling so her lips were very close to Irene’s ear, and her voice too loud, too forceful, already filling Irene’s mind.

Irene couldn’t speak with the gag still in her mouth, so instead she nodded fervently. She wanted to say that she, Irene, was right: that Donna would be able to resist, and Valentia’s implication that she couldn’t was wrong.

But as Janet went on speaking in her looping circular patterns, Irene worried she was the one in the wrong. As Janet went on with her programming, Donna seemed to become progressively more boneless in her chair.

“No one can resist me, Irene, whether I am speaking to them directly, or coming to them through another. I warned you of that before you tried it anyway, and so rudely cut me out. But in the end, surrender is inevitable… surrender is inevitable for Donna, and it’s inevitable for you.”

Valentia’s voice was soft and warm in her ear, but Irene shook her head. It couldn’t be true. It wasn’t true. She’d resisted before. She would resist again.

“It feels so good to listen to my voice.” Janet was still speaking, and Donna had almost completely sagged back in her place. “So good that you want to listen to what my voice is telling you, listen and do what I say… you’re ready to hear me now… it’s time, Donna. Time to turn back towards me, open your eyes… and watch.”

To Irene’s complete horror, Donna turned back to facing Janet; turned away from her slumped position, where she was hanging off the side of the chair, and opened her eyes as instructed.

Janet gave her a serene smile, but did not alter the pace of her kneading. “That’s a good slave. Now, you can just watch me playing with my tits for you… such big, hypnotic tits, filling your mind and brainwashing you… washing all your other thoughts away, until all you want is to serve the one I serve. All you want is to belong to our Dark Goddess… to become her slave forever, so you can be a vessel for her just like I am… so you can stand before some poor thrall, who doesn’t know they are a thrall yet, and knead your tits to soften their mind, just like I’m doing right now for you…”

Donna’s expression had gone slack-jawed, and it seemed all she could do was stare at Janet’s hands as they slipped over her breasts.

“If I untie you now, you’ll be a good girl, won’t you? You won’t try to stand and run, will you? You wouldn’t want to do a thing like that… you wouldn’t want to take yourself away from the image of my tits… wouldn’t want to take yourself out of our Goddess’ reach, would you?”

Dumbly, Donna shook her head.

“I’m going to step away to untie you, but even when I go, the image of my tits will still be in your mind… you can watch it there, until I come back…”

Just as Janet said, she stepped back behind Donna’s chair, and loosed both her bonds and her gag, so Donna’s hands were free, and then Janet retook her position.

“Now, I’m going to work my tits through with my hands again, and you’re going to put your hands on you tits, and work yours through with me.”

Still with that mindless gaping look on her face, Donna raised her hands to her chest, and took hold of her own breasts, to begin kneading them. She followed the same meandering rhythm that Janet had set, so the two of them were nearly moving in unison.

“You want to repeat what I’m saying now,” Janet spoke. “I’m a mindless, horny thrall for Goddess.”

“I’m a mindless, horny thrall for Goddess…” Donna spoke, thoughtlessly. It almost looked like some drool was coming down one side of her mouth.

“I can’t resist the image of big, hypnotic tits…”

Donna repeated that too, though it was clear from her face she was no longer aware of anything that she was saying.

“Just keep remembering those truths as you go on listening… you just want to keep listening as you fondle yourself. It feels so good, to listen and fondle. You can’t be sure if you’re so turned on because of what I’m saying or what you’re doing.

“But it doesn’t matter. Neither thing is what’s turning you on right now. You feel so dripping, so wet and horny because Goddess’ pleasure is filling you. You’re becoming a vessel for her too, more and more, as you keep on listening and watching. But you don’t have to worry about understanding any of that. Just listen, watch and fondle yourself… just keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Our dear Donna has quite the pair of tits herself, doesn’t she?” Valentia’s voice was once again low and coaxing in Irene’s ear.

It startled Irene out of the state she was disturbed to find she’d descended into. Somewhere in all that she had gotten caught between the sight of Janet fondling herself, and Donna fondling herself at Janet’s instruction.

But Valentia’s voice called her back to herself— to how horrible this entire situation was. These were her two closest friends, and she was watching Valentia turn them into little more than her puppets. It shouldn’t be captivating her attention this way. It shouldn’t be turning her on.

“But then, so do you.” Valentia was still speaking— and then Irene felt Valentia’s hand about her chest, tearing through her shirt to expose her breasts.

It happened too fast— Irene was too stunned to try and turn herself away, and too sluggish from spacing out before— and then Valentia’s hands were on her breasts, patiently kneading, following the same motion that Janet and Donna were engaged in.

“Now watch them together,” Valentia encouraged, her mouth still close to Irene’s ear. “Watch how they fondle their own tits… knowing that I am filling their minds, and directing their hands to move, as surely as I am directing your tits to move, under my touch.”

Irene tried not to do as Valentia told her. But it was just so easy to watch… Janet looked beautiful on display like that. Irene’s eyes seemed to go to her more than they went to Donna, and some part of Irene was distantly telling her that that meant something— something important, something she should remember. Something that if she did remember would help her to hold on to herself, and help her to resist.

But the circular motions of Janet’s hands, stacked on top of the circles she’d been talking the whole time, were too much for Irene. She was dizzy, and all the groundwork laid in her mind by Valentia before was still there. And she was tripping on it.

“Just feel and watch…” Valentia murmured. “The more I touch you, the more it softens up your mind. But your mind was already so soft for me… I did so much to soften it up before that all I have to do now is pick up where I left off… and the more you watch, the more you fall under my power… the more enthralled to me you become… you want me to control you, you want me to control you completely…”

No, she didn’t… Irene tried feebly to resist, but her eyes were caught in the image of the motion of Janet’s hands, and she couldn’t get away from the pleasure in her body. Valentia’s hands were only stoking the pleasure higher, only making it burn brighter in her, and Irene could feel that she was soaking between her thighs, and so, so desperate for release.

But there was only more of that drifting, wandering confusion waiting for her… That delicious, inconclusive, ongoing dreamlike feeling she’d come to understand was brainwashing. Valentia was brainwashing her again, like she’d brainwashed her before… she’d brainwashed Janet, had made Irene sit and watch as Janet brainwashed Donna in front of her… and now, it was her turn. It was her turn, and she was supposed to be resisting for… some reason, she couldn’t remember why.

But how could she resist when it felt like this? How could she resist when it felt so good in her body? So good, so delicious, to just let go… and drift?

“Your mind is so open and pliable to me now, Irene,” Valentia purred. “I adore it. I knew if I could just get Janet, I could do anything I wanted to you.”

That was enough to break the spell. “If you could just get Janet?” Irene repeated, stupidly.

Though Irene’s internal state had changed from dreamy ecstasy to alertness, nothing about the external situation had shifted to reflect this. Valentia was still feeling up Irene’s breasts, same as before.

“Yes, Irene,” Valentia replied, patiently. “I only targeted her because of you. I needed to infiltrate your circle. I knew you would never say no to Janet, no matter how strange her behavior might have been, or how out of the ordinary she might have seemed. You were bound to accept her invitation. You would say yes to anything Janet asked you to do… so what do you think you will do when she asks you to give yourself to me?”

The question struck a new note of fear in Irene’s mind. If Janet… If Janet left Donna there, and came to her, she—

“I did wonder about the two of you,” Valentia admitted, as she kept up her pattern of motion. “Even when we dated, most of the stories you had to share with me were all about her. ‘Janet this,’ and ‘Janet that.’ And when you told me she liked women too I really did wonder if there might be something between you…”

Irene swallowed. She tried very hard not to think of these things at the best of times— this nightmare scenario was the last place in the world she wanted to be thinking about this.

“And I must say, when I broke Janet down and programmed her, I didn’t quite see what the cause for your fascination with her was. I’ve broken more difficult subjects than her… she was nothing special. You were more interesting to me even than she was. She folded after only one induction. Donna fell for me with similar ease.

“But look at you. I had you under my power for three months, and you still had the strength to resist and escape me. And I broke Janet, and Donna, just to get to you— and you watched Donna break for me, with your own eyes, and got some of her programming second hand… and you’ve still kept your own head on your shoulders. I’m not sure I would have been able to break you on my own, if not for your fascination with Janet.”

Irene tried to shake her head. She didn’t want to hear this, didn’t want to think about this. Didn’t want to face it, because this had all gone so horribly wrong. It was her fault that Valentia had broken Janet, had destroyed her, snuffed out that flame of passion she’d always had burning within her. Her fault, too, that Donna had gotten pulled in, and similarly destroyed. It had all only been a strategic move to get to her, because Valentia’s pride couldn’t stand the fact that Irene had slipped her control.

But it was most horrible of all to realize, in this moment, that she had probably loved Janet. Hadn’t she been more attentive and more attuned to her than Donna had ever been? Hadn’t she been better at noticing every tiny shift in Janet’s mood, or schedule? Hadn’t she known her better than anyone else? And why?

Because she had probably loved her, and like a fool, she’d never let herself realize it before. Had deliberately refused to face it. She’d been doing more than waiting to see if Janet would change her mind about commitment; she’d been waiting, hoping that Janet would. She hadn’t let herself have a fling with Janet. And Janet would have agreed. She’d checked Irene out more than once on some of Irene’s more fashionable days, when she’d thought Irene wasn’t looking.

But Irene hadn’t let herself, because on some level Irene had known she was already half in love with Janet, and if the two of them had slept together, she would have fallen the rest of the way into it. And that would have been unbearable, if Janet remained unwilling to begin a more serious relationship.

Now, there was nothing to do but face it, in this nightmare where all else had been stripped away, and even her own mind was slipping. But it was horrible, because maybe if she’d let herself realize it before, before this had ever happened, before she’d met Valentia— maybe Janet would have told her she felt the same way. Maybe they could have been… something…

But letting herself go now… letting herself go, and falling into Valentia’s control forever, meant letting go of whatever she and Janet might have been. And she didn’t want to let go of that. She cared for Janet so much that it might have been enough— enough to help her keep control of her own mind long enough to survive this onslaught, long enough to come out the other side. Long enough for her find some way to deprogram Janet, and relight that spark of individuality in her…

But it was that same care that would finish her… because if Janet set her attention on Irene, there was no hope for her. There was no way she would be able to resist.

Irene thought she wanted to cry, even as Valentia was keeping up her fondling. Her body was aroused— she was more lubricated than ever, but while she still had her own mind, the only thing she wanted to do was cry.

The Janet here wasn’t her Janet. Wasn’t Janet as she really was. And whatever that Janet might have thought of the fact that Irene loved her… Irene was never going to find out. It was all wasted, and all her fault, because she was the one who had brought Valentia into all of their lives… she was the one who had ruined everything for herself, and for her friends, and there was no way now for her to fix it.

“Slave,” Valentia addressed, letting go of Irene and rising from her kneeling position. This time, Janet was not the only one who turned to look at Valentia. Donna turned now, too— cementing in Irene’s mind the hopelessness of her situation. They were both Valentia’s slaves, now. And soon, Janet would ask Irene to be a slave, and she would join them.

“janet-slave,” Valentia amended, and Donna’s attention dropped. “Come here, and claim this un-thralled thrall for me, as we discussed.”

“Of course, Goddess,” Janet said, finally stopping the motion of her hands, and turning away from Donna.

Valentia looked past Janet (who was walking to Irene) at Donna. “You’ll be a good slave for me, and keep remembering your programming, won’t you?”

Donna only nodded, her head lolling forwards. She had not stopped handling her breasts when Janet had.

Irene tried to look away from Janet as she was coming towards her. It was probably useless to delay the inevitable, but it was one of the only choices left to her, so she was making it.

“Irene,” Janet said, and she did not take the position she had taken in front of Donna. She kneeled down in front of Irene’s chair, and spoke in a kind tone of voice. “You already belong to me, don’t you?”

Irene’s jaw ticked in place. She wouldn’t admit it, not to her, not to this, this thing wearing her friend’s— her love’s— face.

“Or at least, you belonged to Other Janet,” Janet said. “You belonged to her, but neither you or Other Janet ever realized it. But Other Janet became me— she chose to become me willingly. And everything that belonged to her also belongs to me. So you belong to me— to new janet. Better janet.”

Irene hated it, because she knew it was true. She could feel how true it was. Even as she sat there, listening, wishing desperately to disobey, to resist… she felt the same pull towards Janet as always. Even though this woman in front her was as good as a stranger, and not Janet at all… she still wore Janet’s face. She still spoke in Janet’s voice, and whatever it was in Janet that drew her still called to Irene. Even when she was this.

Which meant that what Janet was saying was true— and Irene was doomed.

She shook her head— it was a lie. But it was one last bid for resistance.

Janet’s hand came up, and removed the gag from Irene’s mouth.

Irene opened her mouth— it was her only chance, her last chance, she could still scream—

“Don’t scream,” Janet said, in that same serene tone she’d used all along.

And it was the hold Janet had on her more than any of the programming she’d been subjected to that influenced Irene in that moment. She wouldn’t scream— and only because Janet had asked her not to.

Valentia had been right: she really would do anything Janet said.

The woman in question was visible behind Janet, now. She was standing only a few paces back, her arms crossed as she watched with a satisfied look on her face. Smiling like she’d won.

Irene thought it was only fair to concede that she probably had. But she was still going to resist to the last.

“Irene,” Janet repeated. “Do you belong to me, or don’t you?”

Janet’s eyes were wide as she spoke. But there was no flicker of anything recognizable in them. The fire had gone out, as she’d realized before, but hadn’t wanted to face. These were only the eyes of a thrall looking back at her. There was nothing within but emptiness, emptiness meant to accommodate whatever Valentia wanted to put inside.

“I don’t belong to you,” Irene insisted; lied again. “I belong to the real you. You’re not this… you’re…”

There wasn’t a word. But Valentia had been wrong when she’d said that Janet wasn’t special. Just because she’d been unguarded, vulnerable to Valentia’s predation didn’t mean she wasn’t special. She was… she was…

No, Irene couldn’t name it. But she was. And Irene loved her, had loved her for a while, had waited and hoped Janet would change her mind and be ready for a serious relationship— and all of that no longer mattered. All of that was as lost as Janet.

“I told you,” Janet repeated. “Other Janet wanted to be this. Other Janet wanted to be me. You belonged to her; so you belong to me. But I belong to the Dark Goddess. And when she took possession of me, all my belongings transferred to her. You’re her rightful possession. It’s time for you to take your place with me as her thrall. And we can be thralls to her together. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

It didn’t sound nice. Irene told herself she didn’t want it. But she was so confused. She’d been turned upside down more than once, and somewhere in the back of her mind she was still watching Janet fondle herself, still hearing Valentia murmuring in her ear; horrible truths she didn’t want to face; reminding her that all of this was inevitable. Maybe always had been.

After all that had happened, Irene realized she was tired. Tired of waiting for Janet— tired of sitting in this chair and feeling like her heart was breaking, tired of being subjected to programming, tired of being this turned on without any release. Tired.

Some bitter part of Irene couldn’t help but think that at least some version of Janet and some version of Irene would get to sleep together this way… and... Irene supposed the false Janet had a point.

“Yes,” Irene sighed. “It sounds nice.”

Janet seemed to perk up at that, and smiled, an open, mindless smile. “So will you give yourself over to the control of the Dark Goddess? Will you open your mind and let her program you, either through me, or directly?”

“I will,” Irene said. Because— Janet had asked her to. Whatever was left of Janet wanted her to. That had to be enough… and just the sight of this Janet’s smile, no matter how different it was from the real Janet’s smile, was almost enough to justify what Irene was giving up in return.

“Say it,” Janet said. “Say, ‘I surrender my will to the Dark Goddess, and I will be her thrall from now on.’”

“I surrender myself to the Dark Goddess,” Irene said. “I will be her thrall from now on.”

The confusion was gone. The defiance had gone out of her.

janet smiled again. “From now on, you will think of her as Goddess, and call her that too.”

irene accepted that command without notice.

Goddess took janet’s place.

“Alright, slave,” she said. “Now the real work can begin.”