The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Chasing Cyndi

by J. Darksong

Chapter 7.

“You fucking son of a bitch!” Cyndi hissed, tears streaming down her cheeks. She glared down at me from the spot on the floor where I’d fallen after the punch. “You evil, manipulative fucking son of a bitch! How dare you! How fucking dare you?” Shaking her head in disbelief, she stomped back over to the couch where she’d kicked off her shoes, picking them up, and headed for the front door.

“Look, Cyndi, wait, please!” I gurgled, holding my aching, and most likely broken, nose, as I scrambled to my feet after her. “Let me explain! Please! You promised you’d at least hear me out to the end before you stormed out!”

“Fuck you!” Cyndi snarled back at me furiously, rearing back as if to punch me again. I took a step back of course. “Why the HELL should I listen to anything more you have to say to me? All you’ve done for the past week and a half is lie to me! Everything... every word, every laugh, every hug... and everything ‘Joanne’ and I did together... was just a big fat lie! I can’t believe anything you tell me, Johnny, and I’ll be damned if I let you trick me again!”

“It wasn’t all a lie! Dammit Cyndi... I did this for the both of us!” I said, running out after her. “Cyndi... dammit! Heart of stone, feet of clay!” I called after her in desperation. To my relief, the post hypnotic command took hold, stopping her in place. Catching up to her, I looked her deep in the eyes, knowing it very well might be the last time. “I’m sorry. I knew you might storm off before I finished explaining, so I left myself an ‘emergency stop’, just in case.”

Cold fury rolled off her in waves. If looks could kill then I’d probably be in the seventh circle of hell by now. “Let me go right now, Johnny,” she hissed in a low deep voice. “Release me right the fuck now or I swear I will rip your fucking balls off and shove them down your throat!!”

Ah, Cyndi, always the perfect lady. “Cyndi, just give me five minutes to explain myself. Five minutes... and I swear you’ll never see or hear from me ever again. If I ever meant anything to you in the past, growing up, then you’ll at least give me that. Please?” She merely huffed, rolling her eyes. As close to a ‘yes’ as I was liable to get, I continued on.

“Cyndi... I know what I did was inexcusable... unforgivable. And I’m not asking you to forgive me. I just want you to try and understand. I’m not some monster. I didn’t do this just to have sex with you. I did it... sigh well... because... you wanted this just as badly as I did.”

“What the fuck?” she exclaimed, incredulously, looking at me as if I was fucking crazy. “Are you fucking crazy?” Yep, nailed it. “You think I actually WANTED you to deceive me this way... to fucking RAPE ME and use me as your fucking plaything, all the while making me doubt my own sexuality?”

“I didn’t rape you goddamit!” I shouted back, surprising her into silence. “I did NOT take you against your will. And until just now, this was the first time you’ve ever even seen my cock, let alone touched it!” I sighed, pushing my anger and frustration aside, putting on a calm face once more. “All the times you were with ‘Joanne’ I used toys, vibrators, dildos, sybians... substitutes for the real thing. Yes, I tricked you, and made you think I was someone else, made you think you were experiencing something else... but it couldn’t have been that awful an experience since you spent every morning afterwards giving me such great detail about how wonderful it was.”

“So... what? That’s your rationale? Because I enjoyed it, that somehow makes all this okay?”

I shook my head. “No. It doesn’t. Again, I’m not asking you to forgive me. I just want you to know that all of this... I didn’t just do it for kicks, or on a whim.” I sighed. “Do you remember the second night you came over, when I hypnotized you? Well... I kind of... drugged your soda as well. That’s why it tasted so weird.” Before she could protest, I hurried on. “It was just that one time, to make sure you went under easier. I got the drugs from the pharmacy where I work... stole it, actually. So, if you’re still pissed after I let you go in a few minutes, just call the police, or the DEA, or the feds, and have me locked up.” I stared down at the ground. “I’m pretty sure I’ll lose my job at the very least, and end up in a federal prison at the most.”

Cyndi stood silently for several minutes before sighing as well. “I’m not quite mad enough to send you to prison... not yet. That doesn’t mean I won’t change my mind about it later, though. Get on with it, so I can just get the hell out of here.”

“Okay. When I put you under, well... you went really deep. Really really deep... like Marianas Trench deep. I guess the drugs I’d given you put you in a very suggestible state, far stronger than I thought was possible, When you were finally down as deep as you could go, I found you had reached the very core of your psyche, the very embodiment of self, your identity.” I shivered slightly. “To be honest, it scared the shit out of me. I mean, it shouldn’t have been possible to delve that deep into your subconscious, no way to bypass all of your mind’s natural resistance and willpower, or at the very least, your mind’s own sense of self-preservation. But there it was... open, and vulnerable. And when I say vulnerable, Cyndi... if I’d told you that you were a man, you would have believed it, heart and soul, like God’s honest truth. If I’d said you were a rabbit, you would have spent the rest of your life twitching your nose and eating carrots. If I’d jokingly called you an apple tree, you would have gone silent, dug your toes into the dirt and tried your best to grow apples out of your hair. So, yeah... considering what I was attempting to do, and what actually happened, I scared myself into doing nothing.”

Cyndi blinked, again surprised. “Nothing? Bullshit. Obviously, you did things to my head. The fact that I can’t walk over and kick you in the nuts proves that!”

“That... came later,” I said, getting slightly flustered. “Much later. Suffice it to say, if I’d wanted to, I could have turned you into my straight arrow, loving, obedient, submissive love-slave that night if I’d wanted to. You wouldn’t have been able to fight it or resist it. It would have simply become your reality. But that wasn’t what I wanted Cyndi! So...instead of making any changes to your psyche, I merely asked you some questions, questions that you would answer honestly, that you couldn’t lie about even if you were capable of it at that point.”

I seemed to have piqued her curiosity, because after a moment ot two she asked, “And just what did you ask me about?”

“Lots of things. I asked you what you looked for in a long term relationship. I asked why you thought your relationships had failed so far. I asked you what you really thought of me, if you liked me as more than just a friend, and if so, why you never said anything about your feelings to me.” Cyndi’s face lost her anger, turning introspective. “I asked you whether or not you could have ever seen yourself spending the rest of your life with me. I asked you if you would ever consider having sex with me, a guy. I asked if you would have had sex with me, if I’d been born a female instead of a male.” I smiled sadly at that one. “Then I asked the two more important questions: If you’d been tricked into having sex with me, and you found out that you really, really enjoyed it, that it was good, would you want to have sex again once you found out the truth. And last... I asked you if you could ever forgive me for deceiving you.. for tricking you into a situation like that, against your will.”

Cyndi swallowed. “And... what did I say?”

“You said, ‘I don’ t know’... about an honest an answer I could have expected, given the circumstances. But you didn’t say no. I guess I thought I had at least a fifty-fifty shot at you someday looking past what I’d done, and forgiving me.” I laughed humorously. “Not much chance of that anymore, I guess. I know... I fucked up badly. I thought I had all the answers, thought that i understood how your mind worked, that I could just do this one little thing, and everything would work out fine. That the ends would justify the means.”

“Instead, you lied to me, deceived me, broke my trust, raped me—despite how you try and justify it—oh, and nearly drove me insane in the process. Did I leave anything out?” she asked woodenly. “Okay, Johnny. I listened to your explanation. I let you have your say. Now, let me have mine. I don’t give a rat’s ass about your reasoning. I could care less why you violated my trust. The fact of the matter is that you did. You toyed around with my mind, my heart, my emotions, even my very soul! THAT is why I am so fucking pissed at you! Damn you... you made me think I was in love with you! You made me feel...” she broke off, shaking her head, fighting to keep the tears from falling. “Thanks to you, I can’t trust whether what I feel... what I felt for you is real or not. I don’t know whether any of it was real or just something you put inside my head to make me think it was! Do you understand what that feels like? Not knowing if something so much a part of you is really real, or just a figment of your imagination?”

“I... I’m sorry,” I said again, lamely. It sounded empty and hollow even to my own ears. Fuck, what had I done? What the hell had I done? “I’m sorry!” I said again, moving closer to her. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise! Just give me a second... I’ll put you back under and remove every suggestion and command I put inside your head—”

“NO!” she screamed, taking a swing at me, barely missing my chin as I jerked back. “I’m NEVER letting you back inside my mind ever again! I can’t trust you not to try something again... or try to make me forget all of this! You so much as touch me again, or say anything even remotely strange, and spending the rest of your life behind bars will be the BEST POSSIBLE THING you can hope for!”

Well. What could I say to something like that? She was right. She was so far beyong being right that she was almost on another plane of existance from me. I looked into her eyes and saw nothing for me there. No kindness, no understanding, no empathy whatsoever. Disgust? Yes. Hatred? Oh yeah. Barely contained rage and pain and betrayal? Of that, an abundance. If she’d been able to move from the waist down as well as the waist up, I had little doubt she would have mauled me just now.

“Okay,” I said softly. “Well, then... I guess I’ll let you go then. I said what I had to say... and you’re right. Reasons don’t matter. If you shoot and kill someone, it doesn’t matter if you were defending yourself, or if it was an accident, the person is still dead either way. Dead is dead.” Just like what remained of our relationship, I thought glumly, as I turned back to my apartment. “As soon as I go back inside and close the door, your legs will unfreeze and you’ll be able to leave. One final thing though. Since there’s nothing I can say that you will believe, the least I can do is offer you the full and compete truth. If you look at yourself in the mirror and say the words ‘Complete Disclosure’ you’ll be able to remember everything that happened or was spoken while you were under hypnosis. I hope... I hope that it will at least help you to know which parts were real. Goodbye, Cynthia. I love you.”

Cyndi stood there for a moment or two after the door closed behind me. Then she turned and walked back to her car, getting inside, and starting the engine. She drove out of the apartment complex, down the road several yards until she was out of sight before pulling off to the side of the road. Putting the car in park, she shut off the engine. And sobbed.

* * *

Epilogue:

That was more than four years ago. In all that time, I’ve probably called, written, or emailed Cyndi more than a thousand times, all with the same result. If she had received any of my messages, she was ignoring them. She’d made her point unequivocally clear; she wanted nothing more to do with me again. Ever. I was a fool to have thought that things could have possibly ended some other way, that somehow, after enough time, she might have forgiven me and initiated contact again. I was fooling myself, torturing myself endlessly checking the mail and my email every day, hoping against hope for some word from her.

I had it bad, I realized at some point during the first six months after that fateful day. I was pining for her, and hard. I was in love. And I had fucked it up.

I became somewhat... unstable at that point. I stopped going out socially, spending every waking minute not at work waiting by the phone, or checking my email, even knowing in the deepest part of my heart that it was all for naught. Still, what else could I do? Put her behind me, and move on? Yeah right. Impossible. Unthinkable. When you’ve finally found your perfect match, the one person in the entire world that fills the emptiness inside you, how can you even think of moving on and finding someone else?

My analytical side short-circuited, going over and over the week that Cyndi had visited, going over my mistakes, trying to figure out where I had gone wrong, and what I could have done differently to make Cynthia love me without losing her the way I had. I blamed myself for being so stupid as to try and change her in the first place, then blamed her for being so stubborn and immovable... then blamed myself again for blaming her for anything when I was the one who had caused the entire mess.

I think... okay, I KNOW I went a little nuts for a while... spending day after day in my bedroom just staring at the ceiling, holding Bobby Bear, sometimes crying, sometimes merely lying there. After my third missed day of work, James, one of my co-workers stopped by my apartment to check up on me. I was somewhat embarrassed when he came into my bedroom at one o’clock in the afternoon on a Wednesday, finding me sitting in the middle of the floor in my underwear clutching a ragged old teddy bear singing ‘Memories of the Way We Were’ at the top of my lungs. To his credit, he didn’t freak out, or leave, or call for an ambulance. He did what any really good friend or co-worker would do: he grabbed me by the shoulders and shook my like a rag doll, then slapped me hard enough to spin my head around, telling me to ‘Get a grip’. Then he raised the window shades, opened the windows, letting in some fresh air, and all but threw me into the shower to clean the stench of more than a week’s worth of sweat, tears and shame away.

Sanity returned sometime later, but the hurt remained. Still, I tried to cope. I went to work. I shaved. I showered. I cleaned up my apartment. I forced myself to cut back on my obsession, agonizing over the phone and email system only on the weekends instead of every day. With a set routine, normalcy of a sort returned. Still, I was filled with a terrible terrible empty sadness inside, along with the uncertainty of knowing whether or not I’d ever see or hear from her again.

Uncertainty. Not knowing. A year after she had gone, I found myself understanding all too well what Cyndi had meant when she left. I had unknowingly tortured her for more than a week with a plague of doubt, making her second guess everything she thought she knew about herself. Now I was getting a taste of it myself, wondering endlessly if I would ever hear from her again, knowing it was over, and done with, yet still not able to accept it, hoping for a reprieve that was never going to come.

Some might call that a kind of madness, in and of itself. I often wondered about that ancient greek guy from the fable, condemned to roll a huge boulder up a hill every day only to have it roll back down to the bottom every night. I pondered what he thought about, what was going through his head. I wondered if he ever realized the futility of his actions, if he knew that what he was doing was pointless. I wondered if, like me, he realized it all too well, but was simply stuck going through the motions. Sometimes, I really thought I was going nuts.

And so, it was four years later. I was still going through the motions, going to work, being as civil as possible, drifting along even though I didn’t want to. I even occasionally went out drinking with James, Alex, and Beth from work, being ‘sociable’, though I knew it was basically just James’ way of checking up on me, making sure I didn’t lapse back into hermit mode again. Sitting with the three of them one night, nursing my first glass of Miller MGD while they worked on their third, James nudged me lightly with his arm.

“Johnny, man,” he said, grabbing a handful of pretzels, “you really need to, like, put this chick out of your head. It’s been, what... four years now? She’s obviously moved on by now. It’s time that you did the same.” He crunched a few pretzel sticks, sending crumbs and salt in my direction. “I mean it man. There are millions of girls out there, just waiting for a guy like you to sweep them off their feet. Why the hell do you wanna tie yourself down like this, and limit yourself to the one girl on the planet that you have absolutely no chance with?”

It was a good question. One that I’d asked myself a lot over the past few weeks. Was I just punishing myself for what I’d attempted to do to Cyndi by pining after her this way? Was my obsessively compulsive need to distance myself from anything remotely resembling a relationship with other people my fractured psyche’s way of paying penance for my wrong doing? If so... then just how much did I deserve to pay? I’d already lost her forever. How much more did I need to suffer? I’d never considered myself a masochist, but maybe in some twisted sort of way I needed to do this... punish myself like this as a way of having Cyndi in my life, even if it’s just using her memory as the whip I flay myself with.

“I dunno,” I said dismally, staring down at my beer glass. “Maybe... maybe you’re right. I just... I dunno, James. I guess maybe it’s stupid to keep hoping that she comes back to me. It’s just... I keep wishing I had just one more chance, you know? One last try to make things right between us...” I raised my glass to my lips to take a drink, then paused, staring. My hand shook slightly, sloshing beer onto my chin and down my shirt, but I didn’t notice. At that moment the seat I sat in could have been on fire and I wouldn’t have noticed. My attention was focused in on the svelte young dark haired woman standing at the bar, sipping lightly on a Heineken, scanning idly across the bar as if looking for someone, before her eyes lighted on mine. And smiled.

“Johnny? Johnny? Hey, Johnny!” Alex said, shaking my shoulder roughly. “Hey, man, watch what you’re doing, you’re getting beer all over the damn place! Johnny?!?”

“Excuse me,” I replied, laying my now empty glass back on the table, walking slowly across the crowded room, my eyes locked in on the woman, not willing to look away, barely willing to blink for fear that she might disappear, that it might turn out just to be a figment of my imagination. The bar was twenty feet away from out table, yet somehow it seemed to take forever and a day to get there, an entire eon of time to cross that distance. I was barely breathing at this point, as if I’d completely forgotten how that worked, so I was more than a bit dizzy and breathless when I finally stood before the woman I’d been searching for.

“Cyndi,” I whispered, as she looked me over coolly, her face betraying nothing of what she was feeling. “You’re here. In town, I mean.” She nodded.

“I came back to visit my parents,” she said, before taking a swig of beer. “With everything that happened last time, I never got to see them,”

I nodded back, feeling my stomach drop like a stone. She wasn’t giving me anything at all. “Yes. Well... I hope they’re doing okay. You, um... you’re looking well.”

She nodded as well, again, cool and composed. “You look like shit. Seriously. You’ve always been a bit stocky, or big boned, or whatever... but now you like more like a double-extra-large version of a starving Ethiopian child.”

I shrugged. “Haven’t had much of an appetite lately.” As in the past four years, three months, and twenty-two days, to be precise. “How long are you in town for? Just, um... staying the weekend?”

“I haven’t decided yet. Work is slow at the moment with the economy as it is, so until the next big project comes along, I’m kind of in limbo.” She took another drink of beer and stared me directly in the eye. “You know how it is.”

I did. Subtle, but clear enough of a hint for me to get the message. “Yes, I do. So... Cyndi, it was... it was good... seeing you again,” I said forcing a small smile. “I am glad you’re doing well. I hope... no. I wish... good things for you in the future.” I turned and walked back towards my table.

“So you’re just going to walk away and leave it at that?” I stopped, taking a deep breath.

“I don’t know what else to say, Cyndi,” I replied without turning back around. “I think I said everything I could possibly say four years ago. I don’t know what you want. If you want me to grovel at your feet, I will, just say the word. If you want to punch me again, or beat the shit out of me, then go ahead. I don’t care. Whatever it takes to get you to stop hating me, I’ll do it. But I can’t just stand here and make small talk and pretend that everything’s peachy-keen between us when it’s not.”

Her hand came down on my shoulder and I finally turned around to face her. “I never said I hated you, Johnny,” she said softly, her face still strangely void of emotion. “I was hurt, really hurt, by what you did. I was pissed off, too. But I never hated you. For what it’s worth, I just wanted things to go back to the way they were before all of this happened.” She sighed, turning away. “I just don’t see how that can possibly happen.”

I nodded sighing in resignation. “Yeah. I kind of figured. So... what now? We part ways and never see each other again?”

Cyndi shrugged. “I guess that sort of depends on you. I came back to town to see my folks.” Then taking a step closer, she pulled me into a soft, tremulous embrace, her body shaking nearly as much as mine. “But... they weren’t the only ones I came back to see.”

I stared deep into her eyes. “Cyndi. If I could go back in time and prevent all of this from happening, I would. I swear that I never meant to hurt you, not for an instant.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said softly, laying her head on my shoulder. “I really do. And I mean that literally.” Before I could ask what she meant, she punched me lightly on the shoulder.

“You were a damned foolish jackass,” she informed me gently.“But... you’re also my best friend. If you can’t forgive your best friend when he makes a jackass of himself, then you were never really friends to begin with.” She sniffed slightly, and I felt a bit of wetness on my shoulder. “Besides... I suppose I still owed you one for what I did to you in Mr. Meyer’s gym class in tenth grade.”

I blinked, remembering exactly what she was talking about. And I considered for a moment. “Mr. Meyer’s class... hmmm. Okay. We’re even then,” I said lightly, hugging her even tighter, “though still I think you’re getting off lightly. After all, I only tried to brainwash you and turn you into my sex slave. It’s not like you ended up butt naked in front of half the school—”

“It wasn’t half the school! it was just everyone taking gym during fifth period,” she protested with a smile. “And I apologized for two weeks about it! I just thought it was a loose thread... I didn’t know your gym shorts would fall completely apart if I tugged on it.” She chuckled softly, “So... actually, you were wrong... when you said that that night was the first time I’d seen your cock.”

I sighed softly, the moment of levity broken by the reminder of that night. I pulled way, looking Cyndi in the face once more. “So... where does that leave us now, Cyndi? Does this mean that I’m forgiven?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” she said softly. “I can’t really fault you too much... since i practically begged for it. About a year ago, I finally got up the nerve to use that ‘Complete Disclosure’ command you embedded in my head. I saw... and heard everything.” She looked forward, her eyes staring off into nothing. “It was... really weird. It was like watching what was happening, like it was happening to someone else. And... hearing myself answer those questions... like the reason why I really thought my past relationships kept failing was that I was too assertive, too argumentative.” She shook her head. “That alone was like a splash of ice water down the back. I never really thought of myself as a closet submissive... but thanks to your little experiment, I found out that I actually LIKE having someone else being in charge sexually. Not that I’d want something like that all the time, outside the bedroom,” she quickly added. “Still... four years later, looking back, I can honestly say that... it wasn’t a completely bad experience.”

I nodded, feeling my heart skip a beat. “So... does this mean... possibly... maybe...” Cyndi shook her head.

“I don’t know, Johnny. I have a lot of things to work though about what I’ve learned about myself. I need to figure out exactly who I am, and what I want from a lover. I can’t promise anything, one way or another, until I figure that out. But,” she said with a small smile that gave rekindled that tiny flame of hope that had never quite died out, “I figure than while I’m here in town, you and I can try and figure some of that out... together.”

“Do you really mean that?” I asked, trying not to sound pitifully eager, and failing miserably. Cyndi laughed.

“Let me put it this way,” she said, finishing her beer, tossing a five dollar bill to the bartender, “I brought along a bottle of bright pink nail polish, and a bottle of scarlet red. And I’m curious to find out which one ‘Big Johnny’ likes best.”

She was halfway out the door, smirking all the way, before i picked my jaw off the ground and followed her outside to her car.

((end))