The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

My name is Harold. Just Harold. No last name, no prefix. Simply Harold... although I think that alone was perhaps the hardest thing to adapt to. I am part of a secret brotherhood of men, a true ‘fellow’ship of people, known simply as The Group. I don’t know who first came up with such a hokey name, but I guess now it kinda fits. Not overly pretentious, or resplendent, simply... The Group. My fellow members and I are all linked together by our common ties, the thing we all have in common, as well as our very uncommon goal.

To blot out every last trace of lesbianism in the world.

Sounds crazy doesn’t it? Like the ravings of a deranged, bible-toting extremist, or some kind of fascist militant madman? (Laughs) Well, to be honest, I do have to wonder a bit about some of my ‘brothers’. At times, I’ve questioned my own sanity, and not a day goes by that I don’t wonder why I am a part of all this. But I assure you, whatever my self-doubts, or the questions in my mind as to the motivation of some of my brethren, we are all quite sane.

There is a war going on. A war that, if you are lucky, you will never even know about, or if not so fortunate, at least be lucky enough to come to our attention, before its too late.

A group of women (and perhaps even the occasional man) are bent on turning the entire female population into a mass of submissive lesbian sluts. God, I can never get over just how ridiculous that sounds, even coming from my own mouth. But its true. These persons, referred to by all of us here only as ‘Them’, are widespread, and well connected. They have ties in the various world governments, as low as the local city level, and perhaps as high up as the Presidency.

Personally, I always knew Hillary was running things, with Bill around as just a figurehead.

Excuse me for digressing. By now, you’ve probably decided that I’m a few bricks short of a chimney, and that my elevator doesn’t quite make it to the top floor. Let me put this in plain English. Certain women are using various forms of mind control to enslave, corrupt, and turn their fellow women into woman-loving, pussy-eating, cock-hating lesbian sluts. Single, married, engaged, divorced—it doesn’t matter. And they use every tool in their vast arsenal to get the job done, everything from simple hypnosis, to elaborate mind control devices, to subliminal computer graphics... even voodoo! Once they get their hooks into you, your theirs, one hundred percent! As for the men... well depending on the mind controller involved, they may decide to leave him alone, to let him sit back and wonder endlessly what happened, if he had done something to make his woman leave so suddenly, to make her change her entire sexual orientation.

The more despicable ones sometimes decide to take out a bit of their frustrations by nuking the guy’s brain as well. One moment he’s a happily married man, the next, he’s a sick, deranged wretch, waving goodbye to his wife, happy to see her go, because he’s suddenly aware of his huge attraction to the family dog! And I won’t bother to share some of the REALLY bad stories on what they’ve sometimes done.

So, do you still think I’m crazy? Or that I’m making all this up? Well, perhaps hearing my own personal horror story will convince you...

It was a beautiful spring day when I took my fiancé and lover of five years to the park for the annual Spring Arts & Crafts fair. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and Rebecca and I were happy and carefree. My darling taught tenth grade English at the local high school, but the students were out for Spring Break, leaving Rebecca with lots of free time, which to my delight, she decided to spend with me. Myself, I had a few weeks of vacation time saved up at the software company where I worked, and figured, what better time to use it than now?

I believe Rebecca had packed a picnic lunch that day, because I remembered commenting on how much better her food would be compared to the redundant foodstuffs sold at the Fair every year. We sat down to eat at a bare plot of ground, and I spread the blanket down for us, so we could sit and watch the band perform across the way from our position. It’s funny. I can’t recall a single song the band played, don’t remember a single note sung, but I can still remember how my Rebecca looked that afternoon, sitting cross-legged on the grass.

Her long tawny brown hair danced lightly in the breeze, seeming to glow in the sunlight. Her dark brown eyes sparkled with life, and her cute little pert nose turned up ever so slightly every time she laughed. And her laugh. God... manna from heaven. A sound so like the tinkling of bells that it almost seemed impossible to have come from a human throat. I always made excuses to hear that wonderful laugh, sneaking up behind her to playfully tickle her ribs, or sneak a quick tickle on the bottoms of her perfect size six feet whenever she was reclining on the couch. Those gorgeous red lips, full and pouty, would stretch into a grin, then a smile, then the dam would crack and that beautiful laugh would burst forth again.

On this particular day she had her white leather pumps off, sighing as she rubbed her feet against the warm dry grass. “Ahh. It feel so GOOD to just be able to kick back and relax like this for a change,” she said with a sigh. “I’m glad Spring Break came this week. The kids wanted this time off almost as much as I did.” She grinned at me. “If I had gone just one more day, trying to drill Shakespearean sonnets into a bunch of distracted, attention deficient kids, I swear...”

“I know, I know,” I replied, chuckling. “You would have gone insane and run off into the hills screaming, in Olde English style!” We both laughed at Rebecca’s familiar promise. We both knew she loved teaching her kids more than almost anything. I lifted her hand and kissed the back of it gently. “I’m glad that didn’t happen,” I said softly. “If you’d run off into the woods, I would have been really lonely without you.”

“Don’t worry, love,” she replied, clutching my hand, admiring the engagement ring I had placed on her slender ring finger three months ago. “If I did ever run off screaming into the woods, I’d bring you along. What fun is it to run off hysterically without someone to watch you do it?”

We kissed then. It was soft, innocent, spontaneous. I believe it was the very last kiss Rebecca, MY Rebecca, ever gave me.

A passerby broke up the tender moment. Rebecca and I glanced up, blushing slightly at our public display, to find a lovely young blonde woman looking down at us, an amused look on her face. “Sorry,” she said after a moment. “Don’t let me interrupt. I didn’t mean to stare, its just that this little show is much better than anything going up on stage right now.” I turned nearly crimson in embarrassment, but Rebecca merely laughed good-naturedly. The blonde lowered a hand. “My name’s Angela,” she said with a grin. Rebecca shook hands, and introduced me and herself. I was a little perturbed at having my private moment with Rebecca interrupted, and was trying to be a good sport about it, when Angela, noticing my discomfort, smiled, and excused herself. “Nice to meet you folks,” she said with a smile, “but I can see you’d like to be alone again. I’ll be seeing ya!”

As she walked away, I turned my attention back to Rebecca, and for the moment forgot about Angela altogether. Sometime during the dinner, however, I glanced up and saw her, again, staring in our direction from across the walkway. Our eyes locked for a moment, then she turned and walked away. I remembered feeling slightly uneasy, that she was checking me out, sizing me up perhaps as a future prospect.

If only I had known how wrong I was.

Afternoon turned to evening, and the day began to wind down. Rebecca and I were leaving the amateur pottery display, when she pulled my arms around her. I could feel the goose bumps on her arms. “You’re cold,” I said, taking off my jacket, and putting it around her bare shoulders. “I keep forgetting no matter how hot and humid it is during the day, it still gets cold at night.”

“Yeah, I probably should have brought a wrap or something,” Rebecca agreed, pulling my light blue jacket over her sleeveless yellow sundress. “Anyway, the festival seems to be running down now. Why don’t we head for home now.”

“Sound good to me,” I said, kissing her softly on the nose, making her giggle.

“Okay. I’ll be right back. I just need to run to the bathroom for a moment.” she said, taking off like a shot. I sighed deeply at that time. Since our picnic had ended, Becca had gone to the bathroom at least five times. I knew she’d drank a lot of tea with her meal, but still... in retrospect, I can now see the reason for her repetitive trips. Everything seemed normal when she returned, and we made our way to the car. Rebecca seemed to be in a bit of a daze, but when I touched her hand, she blinked, them smiled at me, clutching my hand as she always did.

We journeyed back to my apartment. (We both kept separate apartments, at least until the wedding, but we’ve given each other keys to our respective homes.) Once inside, the passionate feeling that we’d been feeling all day culminated. I was out of my clothes in less than a minutes, but Rebecca still beat my by a few seconds. I lifted my glorious beauty off her feet, swinging her around like a child, making her coo and giggle. The twirl finally ended at my big fold-up couch, where we both dropped, grinning, sweating, panting, and not from the exertion. I leaned forward to kiss her, but for a moment, she resisted. I frowned, opening my eyes, but whatever it was had passed, and her momentary hesitation gave way to the passion she always exhibited.

“Mmmmm, oohhhh yesss, Harry,” she moaned, as I teased and caressed her naked body all over. I was grinning like the Cheshire Cat as I worked my ‘magic fingers’ all over her body. Now, I’m no Don Juan, but ever since my first girlfriend in High School, I’d learned that the old ‘Wham! Bam! Thank you, Ma’am’ method wasn’t really advantageous to a continuing relationship. Sherry had taught me repeatedly what she liked, how she liked to be touched and held. I learned the meaning of Foreplay, and developed it into an art. Gradually, once I saw how well that ‘waste of time’ the high school jocks all talked about worked, I actually began to enjoy it was much as the actual sex. By the time Rebecca and I were dating, I can modestly say that I was very good at exciting and teasing a woman’s passions.

Rebecca danced and writhed under my touch for half an hour, but amazingly, never came. I was a bit perturbed. My fiance was VERY responsive, and normally got off at least once or twice just from the foreplay. All my worries left me, however, when she pushed me down, hard, onto my back and mounted me. I guess my teasing went a little too far. She was like a woman possessed. Her eyes were wide with arousal, and she nearly bit me as lips sucked mine.

I lasted perhaps five minutes... and if that seems like a short time, remember that she was actively humping my cock, riding me like a bucking bronco at the time. When I finally stopped groaning in pleasure, I began to groan in pain. Rebecca was still grinding against me, trying to squeeze every last drop from me, and I had to literally push her off to get her to stop. She looked stunned for a moment, and I had to shake her to ask her if everything was okay. She smiled then, and lowered her head to my chest.

“Yeah, baby,” she said softly to my chest. “Everything is fine. That was... I was just a little out of it, I guess.”

“You can say that again, honey,” I chuckled, stroking her back. “You’ve never been that wild in the sack before. Maybe we should take some time off to picnic more often.” She smiled and sighed softly, and we dozed, falling asleep for a time in each other’s arms.

I awoke a bit later, alone. Stretching, I checked the apartment, but Rebecca was nowhere to be found. Her clothes were gone, however, and the showerhead was still dripping, so I knew she had just cleaned up and gone home. I would have rather she spend the night with me, but she no doubt had something at home to take care of. Besides, we had the entire week to be together.

By the end of the week, I knew something was wrong. Rebecca acted normally, like everything was fine, and yet...it was nothing you could put into words. She seemed... cold. I mean, she still kissed me, and laughed at my jokes, and hugged me, even holding my hand in public. But they were empty gestures, as if she was simply going through the motions, acting this way because she thought I expected it. I could tell though. There was no love, no emotion, behind her actions. Worst of all, after the first night of the Fair, she found reasons and excuses to not to have sex.

“I... I want to, honest,” she said on Saturday, when I finally had her cornered in the bedroom. “I just have sooo much work to catch up on. I still have to grade the class’ tests, and I’ve been putting it off all week now.”

I didn’t know how to respond. “But... but,” I sputtered. “Couldn’t you do that later? You could grade them tomorrow.”

“Harold!” she shouted angrily. “Look, I l...l... LOVE you, you know that,” she said unconvincingly, “but I have work to do. Maybe if you can manage to think about someone else for a change...”

“Think about someone else?” I nearly exploded. “Baby, I HAVE been thinking about someone else! I’ve put aside everything I had planned this week, took a vacation from work, just to spend time with you! After this week, we’ll be back to the same old grind as before, you busy with school. and me wrapped up at the office, both too busy and worn out at the end of the work day to do much of anything together!” I sat down on the bed, trying to calm myself, and reason with my love without shouting. “I’m not asking for much, just a half-hour, maybe an hour max. Monday night was... spectacular, but since then, you’d been too tired, or too involved with something else, or just not in the mood.”

“Do I seem in the mood to you now, Harold?” she asked, hands on her hips. “Honestly, Harold, is SEX the only reason we’re together? Do you think you’ll DIE if you don’t get to pounce on me, shoot off inside my pussy, and fall asleep using my chest as a pillow? God, I never realized before just how much of a self-centered egotistical son of a bitch you are!”

I don’t know what stunned me more, the words she was using, or the fact that she meant every single one of them. I never claimed to be Mr. Romantic. I’ve been thoughtless and selfish lots of times. But I’ve also been very loving and caring, and I wouldn’t hesitate to bend over backwards to do something she asked. Once, she dropped a broach her Grandmother had given her down the sink in the women’s room at a restaurant. The moment she told me, I stood up, walked out to the car, got a couple of wrenches, and took apart the pipes of the women’s room sink. The matre‘ D was furious, and it took a lot of explaining to keep him from calling the cops, but I got the damn broach. Self-centered? In a pig’s eye!

“Well, if that’s the way you feel about it, maybe I’ll just head home to my own apartment and leave you to your schoolwork.” I made my way to the door, glancing back when she didn’t even make an effort to stop me. “I’m sorry if I came on too strong before. Maybe I am thinking more with my dick than my brains. But I can take a hint as well as the next person. Goodnight, Rebecca.” With that, I left.

I lay in bed that night, trying to analyze what had gone wrong, what I had done to provoke such a reaction. Rebecca was by no means a prude. Nine times out of ten, she initiated sexual play in some way, flashing me a wicked ‘come-hither’ look, while shaking her hips invitingly, or rubbing the front of my pants, commenting on what she thought was inside, or the always effective direct approach of asking to come to the bedroom and fuck like bunnies. On the few times I initiated, she usually responded by leaping into my arms, and on the two times she declined, she was nice about it. Firm, resolved, but nice.

It’s almost like she’s a completely different person all of a sudden, I thought to myself.

As I drifted off to sleep very much worried and concerned, I resolved to have things out with her once and for all in the morning. Something was bothering her, something was occupying her mind, and she was hiding it. I intended to sit down and talk to her and find out some answers, and hopefully patch things up and get everything back to normal.

What can I say? I was young and naive back then. And I had no idea what I was up against.

Saturday morning, bright and early, I gave Rebecca a call, and got her answering machine. Thinking she was still asleep from a late night grading papers, I decided to take a shower and go out for breakfast. I glanced across at her apartment as I passed, from habit more than anything else, when I noticed her car was gone. We’d taken my car everyday the past week to the park, with me picking her up, so I immediately noticed the familiar red shape missing. “Maybe she decided to go out for breakfast, too,” I said aloud, heading down the boulevard.

I stopped at Denny’s, and ordered my usual. Normally, I was in a hurry, either going to work, or rushing to be with Becca, so I always took my meals to go. This time I decided, ‘What the hell, I might as well eat in for a change.’ I’d just picked out a table in the corner, and was making my way there when the girl at the table across from it stepped out, and bumped into me.

“Oops! Excuse me,” I said, staring into Angela’s surprised face. “Uhm, hi there... Angela, isn’t it? Fancy meeting you... here... Rebecca?” I said, as I noticed her companion’s identity. Rebecca seemed embarrassed, and shifted her gaze uncomfortably to the table. “Ah. Having breakfast I see,” I said coolly. “I didn’t know you too were such close friends.”

“Well, we’re not exactly CLOSE friends, yet,” Angela replied, “but yeah, we kinda hit it off. She came to get a bite to eat, say me here, and said ‘hi’. We chit-chatted a bit, and I asked her where her handsome little fiance was.” Angela looked me square in the eye, then, and her look, while not threatening or anything, spoke her disapproval. “She told me about your little fight last night, and how she was feeling really depressed. I convinced her to sit down here and eat breakfast with me.”

“Becca, you told HER?” I exclaimed. “God! You wouldn’t call me last night or this morning to talk about things, but you tell her, a perfect stranger—”

“She is NOT a perfect stranger!” Rebecca snapped back. “Angela happens to be a good friend, and a great listener! She even had me convinced that last night was probably just a misunderstanding, and that I should just try and talk to you civilly. Ha. Talk to you? Fat chance! You’re going off on another tangent right now, just because I talked out my problems with someone OTHER than you!”

“Rebecca, that’s not... that’s not it at all,” I tried to explain. By now, a small crowd was watching us, and my face was burning from the humiliation. “You’re overreacting,” I said in a softer voice. “I have nothing against you talking to your friends about us, I just wish you’d talked to me first. I love you, Becca. I always thought that no matter what kind of problems we had, we could always talk to each other about it after the fight, smooth things over, work it all out.”

Rebecca seemed to soften a bit at my words. “I’m sorry too, Harry,” she said after a moment. “I’m just feeling... out of sorts I guess. All that work to grade, the idea of the students returning in a few more days... I guess the stress is just getting to me. I’m sorry that I took it all out on you.” She gave me a soft smile then, and it seemed for the moment that things were normal once more.

Angela again ruined what would have been an intimate moment by clearing her throat. “Excuse me,” she said, slipping past me. “Sorry to interrupt when you’re both doing so well, but I really need to get to the bathroom.” I moved out of the way, and she smiled, winking. before she entered the restroom. I turned to Rebecca, and found her slightly flushed, smiling as well, and it hit me that the wink had been for her, not me. I sat down across from her in a daze as I tried to process that tiny bit of information.

“So,” she said, taking advantage of my momentary distraction, “everything okay about last night? We friends again?” I grinned, taking her hand as always, and kissed her knuckles.

“Oh, we’re more than just friends, love,” I said with a smile. Rebecca gasped, and pulled her hand back in shock. “Rebecca? What’s wrong? What did I—”

“Didn’t you learn ANYTHING after last night?” she all but screamed at the top of her lungs. I was so surprised that I nearly fell out of my seat. “Here you go again, trying to make everything SEXUAL!! GOD! Next thing I know you’ll be lifting up my skirt to fuck me here on the table in plain sight!”

“Rebecca, please!” I yelled back in alarm, as several people got to their feet. I could see the manager heading our way. “You’re making a scene! Just calm down! Better yet, let’s go outside and talk about this, okay?”

“Excuse me, ma’am,” the manager said loudly. “Is there a problem here? You two are disturbing the other guests!”

“Uhm, no sir, no problem,” I replied, quickly, getting up, as Rebecca seemed ready to for another outburst. “My fiance and I were just having a little tiff. A tiny little misunderstanding. Listen, why don’t I just make my order to go after all?” I walked back to the counter, glancing back over my shoulder to find Rebecca glaring at me, still fuming. If looks could kill, my back would have been a bloody lump by the time I picked up my order. Heading to the door, I again glanced back at Rebecca’s table. Angela had returned by now, and they were talking, softly, whispering. Rebecca seemed much calmer now, and her head was down, as if sleeping, while Angela spoke softly in her ear. It was a strange scene, but stranger still was the fact that they were holding hands.

I was in really bad shape after that. Returning back home, I couldn’t even eat the food I’d brought back. Something was seriously wrong with Rebecca. Her wild mood swings, the lack of sexual interest, and her suddenly VERY friendly attitude with a person she’d met only a few days before, all added up to something sinister. But what, I had no idea.

I left another message on her answering machine, asking her to call me, that we seriously needed to talk. I did a bit of work myself, connecting my PC into my terminal at work, to work on a few new program designs. Lunch time came and went, and still no word from Rebecca. I left yet another message on her answering machine, and went back to work. I left perhaps a total of eleven messages that day, all without an answer. Around six, I got tired of waiting, and went out to a movie, something I hadn’t done alone in more than seven years. When I returned home, I found my answering machine void of messages, so I called one last time, left one last message, and went to bed. On my bed I found a note, and a gold ring.

Dear Harold. I know this probably comes as a surprise to you. It came as sort of a surprise to me at first, but the more I thought about it, the more I felt this was the right decision. Harold, I am not going to marry you. In fact, I don’t wish to date you, spend time with you, or ever see you again. I thought once that I loved you, that you meant the world to me, but that was the past. Marriage changes things. People change. You and I both changed once the rings went on. I began to see a different side of you that I’d never noticed before. I saw how petty and controlling you can be, how obsessed with sex, sex, and more sex you are, and how little we really have in common. I know you feel the same about me, that I’ve changed, that I’m not the same person you fell in love with. Too bad. This is the REAL me, Harold. Spending all this time together allowed us both to see each other at our best AND at our worst. The simple fact of the matter is, now that I’ve seen you at your worst, I’ve decided I don’t want to spend the rest of my life shackled to you. Goodbye Harold—Rebecca.

I must have read and reread that crumpled slip of paper a dozen times. My mind couldn’t seem to wrap itself around the words, the idea the note was trying to convey. It was over? No. A mistake. A joke. It couldn’t be over... not like this! I’d known Rebecca since grade school, had played together in the sand box as kids. We’d been friends for years growing up, went to high school, then college together, before finally admitting to each other that there was an attraction. We’d dated for five years before I finally asked her to marry me, and it had been the happiest day of my life when she’d broken into tears and accepted. I’d known her for most of my life, had shared secrets with her that no one else knew. The Rebecca that wrote that note was not the same person I had grown up with.

I wasn’t really in my right mind at the time, but I knew I couldn’t simply sit around and let the love of my life slip through my fingers. I got into my car and drove over to Rebecca’s apartment. A strange car was parked in front of the driveway, so I instinctively drove on by, and parked at a house a few blocks away.

That was probably the ONLY smart thing I did that night.

It was just a little after midnight, and the lights were out when I crept back to my ex-fiance’s apartment. I figured she was probably asleep... then I remembered the other car in the driveway, and my thoughts turned darker. I tried the key she had given me to her apartment, only to find the locks had been changed. I suppose I could have banged on the door, shouted and yelled until she unlocked the door and let me in, but I wanted to catch them in the act. I wanted to see her new lover with my own eyes, and THEN let her explain why she had left me. Taking out my trusty Discover card, I jimmied open the door, and crept quietly into the hallway. Sure enough, sounds of mad, passionate sex were emanating from the bedroom. I carefully opened the door a crack, and glanced inside... and what I saw was, and yet was not, what I had expected.

Angela, naked, sitting astride Rebecca, my Rebecca, riding what appeared to be a double-headed dildo.

I was beside myself with anger. I knew it had to have been some kind of conspiracy, and now I knew Angela was the key. Everything had started going downhill from the moment that she had interrupted our intimate moment in the park. Everything then began to slide into place; Becca’s frequent trips to the restroom that day, her excuses to be alone the rest of the week, her refusal to do anything sexual with me thereafter, the wild mood swings, her sudden closeness with the virtual stranger. It all made an eerie kind of sense to me. Angela had seduced her, put her under some kind of spell, to take her away from me.

I don’t remember exactly what happened then. Maybe I gasped, or spoke her name aloud. Or maybe I brushed against the door, making some kind of sound. Maybe the movement itself caught her eye. Maybe, she felt my presence and just happened to look up at that moment. However it happened, Rebecca turned her head, and stared straight at me. Our eyes locked for a moment, and she smiled, licking her lips, smirking at me as her moans suddenly went up several octaves in the midst of a monster orgasm. Angela, no doubt following her lover’s gaze, smiled at me as well, giving me the same saucy wink she’d given Rebecca at Denny’s.

I stood there in shock for several minutes, during which time, the girl came down from their blissful orgasms. The both left the bed, stepping forward to face me. “Did you like what you saw?” Rebecca said with a satisfied smile on her lips. “You always were a bit of a voyeur, Harry.”

“You two,” I managed to gasp after a moment or two. “How... how long... have you been...”

“Gay?” Angela finished for me. “Well, for me its been a long while. I’ve been a woman-loving little bitch all of my life. Rebecca here, well, she only realized her TRUE sexual feelings a few days ago, but I’d be willing to bet she’s been this way all of her life as well. Isn’t that right, precious?”

“Exactly right, my love,” she murmured, kissing Angela’s lips with every bit of passion she’d once given mine. “It’s amazing but true. No man can ever know a woman’s body the way another woman does. All these years I’ve wondered what it would be like, but I never had the guts to really explore that side of me, until now...”

“BULLSHIT!” I exploded angrily. “Rebecca, she’s done something to you, screwed with your mind somehow. I’ve known you ever since you were seven years old. We’ve shared secrets that we’ve never told another living soul before! We’ve NEVER hidden anything from each other! I would have known long ago if you had ever had these kinds of feelings! Angela made you do this!”

“So what if I did?” Angela challenged, stepping forward. “What do you plan to do about it? Becca is much happier now with me than she’s EVER been with you. How could she have been happy, having you poke and prod her insides with that... that... THING hanging between your legs! And that in essence is your whole entire problem. Your dick! Admit it, the problems between you two came because she didn’t want to have sex with you anymore.” She smiled again, but the expression was all haughtiness and self-assurance, without any trace of humor.

“I merely opened her eyes. I showed her what she had been denied, and let her make the choice. She’s been my gay lover ever since the last time you two did it, but she stayed with you, trying to see if there could still be something between you. Did you know, the last night you fucked, you didn’t make her come?” Angela laughed, as if the very notion of a man making a woman climax was itself ridiculous. “She told me all about it. Your clumsy pawing managed to excite her somewhat, but couldn’t finish the job. She didn’t feel like faking it as usual, and mounted you, trying to see if just once you could do a decent enough job to actually make her come. And once again, totally absorbed in your own pleasures, you came after a pitiful five minutes, then pushed off her, without even letting her climax once! And you have the audacity to be mad when she doesn’t want to go through the whole farce again a few nights later!”

“SHUT UP!” I yelled, showing Angela back hard. She stumbled, but managed to stay standing. I’d never struck a woman before, but I was hard pressed to keep from beating that woman to within an inch of her life. “Just SHUT UP! You’re twisting everything around! I LOVE Rebecca! Tell her, honey! I’ve been a good lover, and a good friend, all these years! Think back, honey, please! You know deep down inside that what we had together was real!”

I looked pleadingly at the girl I’d grown up with, who’d cried her eyes out on my shoulder when her kitten Boots died, who’d confessed how ugly she thought she was at age thirteen when she’d been a late bloomer, who’d looked at me bright-eyed, when I told her of my true feelings for her and saw them mirrored in her own eyes. I looked for any sign of that bright sparkle, the tiniest glimmer of that old love. All I saw was a cold dead gleam in her eyes now.

“I think you should leave now, Harold,” Rebecca said simply. “You read the note. You have your ring back now, and I’ll make sure all of your clothes and such are sent back to your apartment in the morning. I’ve made it perfectly clear what I want, and its not you. I don’t want to see you again Harold. I thought perhaps we could be friends, but I can see now that it was just wishful thinking.”

“No, Becca, I’m not going to let you go. Not like this! That... BITCH! She did this to you! This isn’t the real you! You can’t tell me that you spent your whole life in love with me and then fell OUT of love in less than a week! I don’t believe it! I WON’T believe it!”

“Get out!” Rebecca screamed, pointing to the door. “You get out right now, Harold, or I swear, I’m calling the cops! You broke into my house, manhandled my lover, and now you’re threatening me? You get out of here this instant or I swear I’ll have them lock up your sorry ass and throw away the key!”

Key? That reminded me. “Very well then, I’m going,” I said in defeat. “Just return my house key to me and I’ll be on my way.” Becca looked at me blankly. “My apartment key. You know, the one you used to go into my apartment and place the ring and note on my bed? If this is truly over, then I want my key back. Here’s yours... not that you need it anymore with your locks changed.”

Angela and Rebecca glanced at each other a moment, then Rebecca tossed me the key. “There. Now its official. Your things will be on your doorstep when you get up in the morning.” That said, she went into her bathroom and closed the door. Sighing deeply, I turned and walked home..

I don’t really know why I made such a big deal about the key. My gut instinct told me that I needed it back, so I asked for it back. Lately, I’d been ignoring my instinct, ignoring the obvious signs that something was going on, and my relationship with Becca had died because of it. From now on, I vowed to go with my instincts. My instincts told me that Angela was much more dangerous than she seemed. Not that I thought she’d do anything to me. A young five foot seven girl, barely one hundred ten pounds, if that much? No threat there. Still, something about her rankled the back of my neck. Returning home, I locked my door, and then closed and locked all the windows as well, something I hadn’t bothered to do in years.

All for naught it seems. I was in for one big surprise in the morning.

I came to slowly, as if swimming back to the land of consciousness through a molasses-thick river of blissful sleep. My eyes were blurry and fogged with sleep, and with an effort, I raised my hand to rub them clear.

Or rather, TRIED to raise my hand.

It took a few moments, but the fog in my head cleared significantly once I realized that I was effectively tied down, spread-eagled, to my bed. I struggled fitfully in my bonds for a moment or two, quickly realizing that I was bound too tightly. They had me.

“Ah, looks like he’s awake,” Becca chirped, as she stepped into view. “Did you sleep well, darling?” she taunted me as her lover came up behind her.

“Good morning, Harold,” Angela said warmly. “You’re probably a little confused about what we’re doing here, and why you’re all tied up.” She took a large hypodermic needle from behind her back, holding up to my face. “You see, we had to make sure you were no longer a problem,” she continued while I began struggling anew. “Rebecca knows you very well, and she assured me that you’re not the type to give up very easily. I simply CAN’T have you coming after us, trailing us from place to place, trying to win my Becca back.”

I pulled with all my might to tear my arm away as she lined the needle up with my vein. “NO! Don’t do this, please!” I begged shamelessly. “You don’t have to kill me! I’ll let you go, I swear! I won’t give you anymore trouble! You don’t have to do this!” I felt the needle pierce my skin, and I shuddered as a hot searing heat began to travel up my arm, throughout my body.

Angela laughed. “Begging like the dog you are already, hmmm? Don’t be silly, Harold. I’m not going to kill you. No... I’m just going to help you.”

Whatever she’d injected me with was fast acting. The room began to spin, and I my own moans sounded hollow, as if they were echoing off the walls of the Grand Canyon instead of my bedroom. Angela smiled wickedly, as three of her leaned forward, and began to whisper in my ear. “You see, Harold, you’ve been confused about a lot of things. Becca was confused for a while, but I helped her to understand, to see the truth. She’s much happier now with me. Now, we’re going to help YOU to understand as well. Trust me, you’ll be much happier too.”

Her words were like crude oil sludge, running slowly down my ear, leaking into my brain. I felt like I was floating, higher than any weed I’d ever smoked in college. I was dimly aware of a trio of Rebecca’s coming into view, holding some kind of visor in her hands. “Looks like he’s ready,” her voice gurgled, a deep bass sound so contrasted with her normal high lilting tones. Angela nodded slowly, as if her body were stuck in molasses, and slowly, frame by frame, the strange visor descended over my eyes, clamping tightly around my head. I nearly sighed in relief once they was on. I was about to understand, and these strange goggles were going to help me.

A series of flickering lights appeared, shining directly into my owl-wide eyes, beaming straight into my dazed mind...

I don’t remember much after that. That session apparently lasted most of the day, because when I finally came back to myself, it was late evening, I was completely untied, and the girls were gone. I immediately forgot about them then, their existence virtually erased from my mind. The first thing I did was go to the shower. I had gotten all sweaty and sticky during my nap, and needed to clean myself off. As I slipped naked under the waters, I closed my eyes and began rubbing the soap against my body. It felt nice, just touching myself this way. Reaching my lower parts, I found that I was indeed enjoying this. I began stroking my hard-on, something I hadn’t really done since college. It felt wonderful. Better than sex. Better than the best sex of my life. I really started to pump myself them, soaping my hand up good to reduce the friction. I was in bliss. When I finally shot off, I felt so fucking good, I simply couldn’t stop. I kept going, feeling myself getting hard all over again, working myself back into a frenzy.

It took longer to cum the second time, but that only made the sweet release at the end all the sweeter. I was beginning to tire now, and getting a little wrinkly from all the water, but I wanted more. I needed more. I was pumping myself up for the third time, my cock nearly raw from all the excess stroking, when the hot water ran out. Cold water streamed over me, hitting me like... well like a cold shower. It snapped me out of my frenzy, and I quickly turned off the shower. I slipped out, toweled dry, and quickly dressed myself.

It was Sunday evening. I’d wasted away the whole day in bed, catching up on my beauty rest. So, how would I spend the rest of the day? I flipped on the TV, but nothing was playing. Feeling a bit bored, I decided to go out to a club or something, maybe check out the local scene. I grabbed my keys and went to my car... only it wasn’t there! “Oh, right! Now I remember!” I said, smacking my forehead. “I left it parked over near... near... uhm, what’s-her-name’s house? Hmmm.. " Well, I remembered the street, anyway. Whistling idly, I walked down the street, heading for my car.

I paused at one house, half a block away from my car, and frowned. A new house recently put up for sale. I don’t know why, but just looking at that house filled me with dread, rousing up all sorts of bad feelings. It seemed important somehow, but for the life of me, I couldn’t recall why. Shaking it off, I continued on to my car, and drove off to the local club scene.

Our city has several clubs. Most cater to the normal, everyday, teen or adult looking for a place to hang out, and then there are the OTHER, more specialized clubs, that cater to those with more.... risque tastes. I usually visited the former set, but tonight I felt adventerous, and decided to check out the latter. I cruised up and down the boulevard a few times until I found the one I was looking for. The Mad Adder. Funny, I’d never though about visited a male-male kink club before, but somehow tonight it seemed like just what the doctor ordered.

The place was filled with men, men, glorious men, in all shapes, sizes, and colors. I felt like a kid in a candy store. I walked over to a couple of tough looking bikers dressed all in black leather. “Hi, boys, having fun? This is a great place, huh?” I said, taking an empty seat. They glanced at me, and burst into laughter. “Huh? What? Did I say something funny?”

“This your first time in The Mad Adder, boy?” one of the bikers asked. looking me up and down. I began to feel a little anxious then, as if this had been a big mistake, but something deeper, stronger, inside me told me this was what I needed.

“Yes, it is,” I replied, glancing around. “First time for as LOT of things,” I added, surprising myself. “Nice decor. What do you guys do around here for a good time?”

Again, a circle of laughter. “Well, if you’re so curious, boy, we’ll SHOW you,” the leader said, clapping an arm around my shoulder. He passed me a mug of beer, and I drank it. He growled at the bartender, and received a fresh pitcher, which I drained dry over the next half hour. After I was more than a little drunk, he and his comrades took me back into one of the private rooms.

This part is the reason why I will never forgive Rebecca. In my heart I know that she was acting against her will, that she had no real control over what she did to me. But I knew whatever twisted, warped, and perverted things had been put in my head, they had come from HER, not Angela. She’d once convinced me to try a three-way, with two guys on one girl. She’d much enjoyed the experience, but I quickly learned that I did NOT enjoy being that close to another naked guy. Rebecca used to tease me afterwards, whenever I didn’t agree with her about something, promising to invite my new ‘friend’ over to the house again. She’d laugh it off then, knowing she’d stung my pride a bit, and the matter would drop. This time, however, she hadn’t let me drop it, she’d forced me to embrace it.

I was roughly manhandled the entire time. I knew I really REALLY didn’t want to be there, but I just couldn’t help myself. Something about this was pulling my strings, getting me aroused even as it sickened me. When they stripped me down and noticed my growing hard-on, they hooted and cheered even more. I won’t go into graphic details about that night, but suffice it to say I was well used. I sucked cock... all of their cocks. I was taken up the ass, by each one of them, hard, and brutal. They made me clean them off afterwards, and I didn’t have the luxury of soap and water. Tired, sore, very sore, I managed to crawl my way out of there, make my way to my car, and drive back home. Whether it was bad luck or good, I made it nearly a block from my house when a policeman pulled me over for driving around town naked.

I was arrested, of course. I was naked, drunk, and stinking of sex and sodomy. It was probably my lowest point. The locked me in to sleep off the experience, and I did sleep for a while, but try as I might, I couldn’t forget the experience. It was there, fresh in my mind, as if someone had installed a VCR in my head, and set it to endlessly playback every second of my rape. I felt like throwing up; instead I slid my hands down to my cock and began pumping it good and hard. My cellmates didn’t take too highly to this, as you might expect, and they signified their complaint by beating the shit out of me. The guards eventually broke up the fight, and moved me to a different cell.

That proved to be my saving grace. My bizarre behavior had prompted the guard to call a local psychiatrist to have a chat with me, to see if I was indeed nuts. I was depressed, dejected, and burrowed deeply in despair by the time the shrink saw me. If I could have managed it, I probably would have killed myself. Something bad had happened to me, and I didn’t know what or why. In the space of one night, my life had gone down the toilet. I seriously doubted that a psychiatrist could fix what I didn’t even know was wrong.

Luckily for me, he was a member of The Group.

After several moments, he quickly identified the problem. He had a doctor examine me after he heard about my wild night at The Mad Adder, and I was given antibiotics and treated for all the tears and bruises and abrasions I’d been given. Once my body was on the mend, he set about fixing the tangled mess inside my head. It took several days to break through all the memory blocks, and the emotional stress of everything I’d been through threatened to undo all his progress. He treated me first for my rape, helping me to get over the incident. Truth be told, I still sometimes get nightmares about it to this very day. Once I was relatively stable, he began again, working through the myriad commands and behavior modifications I’d been implanted with.

It was several months before I was back to anything resembling my normal self. I’d had to quit my job, and stay home, unable to function at work while the reforming process was going on. I had a nice little nest egg set up to keep the house and car and bills paid up for a while, but I knew I couldn’t afford expensive psychotherapy. The doctor told me not to worry about, and insisted that we continue the sessions. I was very thankful for everything he was doing to help me, but I still felt a bit suspicious about his motives. After all, I’d already been screwed over by the one person I had trusted most in the world.

One year after that dreadful night, the doctor pronounced me fit again. He told me tonight’s session would be the final one, and a very special one. I was immediately wary, of course, but after all he’d done for me, and for free, I couldn’t help but trust him. He lead me into the office, but with a shock, I saw that I was NOT the patient tonight.

Lying on the couch, bound head and foot, eyes wide and glassy as she stared into a spinning spiral on the wall, lay my nemesis, Angela. The doctor placed a hand over my mouth to keep me from crying out, and pulled me back into the waiting room.

“Let me explain a few things to you,” he said quietly. “Believe it or not, that woman in there is as much a victim in all this as you are. Yes, she took your wife away from you, she fucked up your mind, she ruined your happy little life. But somewhere along the line, she was happily married to someone, blissfully happy, and some OTHER woman came along, brainwashed her, and broke them apart, trained her, then sent her off to complete the cycle. So before you rush in there to beat her senseless, think about what it is you’re feeling, and what her husband must be feeling as well.”

That stopped me cold. In all the time I was recovering, I’d never considered the WHY of it all. To me, she’d merely been an evil bitch, the cunt that had fucked up my life. Part of my reason for recovering had been to one day meet up with her again and take my revenge on her. Now, I felt torn. I wanted her to hurt as bad or worse than she had hurt me... but on the other hand, the doc said she wasn’t really responsible. Someone had done to her what she had done to Rebecca and I. It was insane.

“I know you’re processing all this right now,” he continued. “Just let me say that what you’ve been though, all you’d had to endure—you’re not alone. I once went through the same thing. Another doctor, a dear friend of mine, helped me through it, brought me back into the light. On MY final day, he led me into HIS office and showed me the person that had tormented ME, lying there, dazed and helpless. He asked me to make a choice, the same choice I’m about to give you.”

He walked to the window, and stared out into the evening sky. “There is a war going on,” he said softly, almost as if talking to himself. “A secret war, one that if you’re lucky, you’ll never have to know about it. You, my friend, were one of the casualties of that war. An unknown group of people with an unknown agenda, are slowly spreading their influence over the world. Their goal is to turn every single woman into a woman-loving lesbian.” He paused and turned to face me. “They will stop at nothing to complete that goal, and they have many various means to do so. Among the women they’ve ensnared, there are doctors, biologists, chemists, electrical engineers, and psychologists. They have stage magicians specializing in hypnosis. They even supposedly have a Voodoo priestess or two, several Wicca, and if reports are to be believed, one bona fide sorceress.”

His words seemed like the insane rantings of a madman, but he spoke with such calm and conviction that I felt with an icy shudder that he spoke the truth.

“So where does that leave the men of the world?” he said softly, turning back to the window. “Until recently, they were S.O.L. Anyone... that is, any MAN that went up against that arsenal was cut down, sometimes murdered outright, sometime memories erased, sometimes their minds left twisted and warped as yours had been. The only ones that even knew what had happened to them were people that had gone through it themselves. Other victims. Well, all that changed when a man named Randolph St. James had been attacked. He sought help, from a friend, another who had gone through it as well. They had another friend, a hypnotist, mesmerize them both, fix it in their minds that they wouldn’t fall under the spell of the lesbian mind controller again. They fought her, captured her, but in the process, Randolph’s wife died. Not wanting others to endure what they had, they banded together, formed a covert group made up of other victims, to fight back, and try and stop the ever-spreading scope of these people.”

He turned to face me once more. “We have no name. We call ourselves, simply, ‘The Group.’ Like Them, we have our share of scientists, doctors, engineers, and hypnotists. We even have a few... uhm, well, suppose you could say, ‘magically endowed’ folks as well, if you believe in that sort of thing. The point is, we’re now fighting back, trying to preserve this way of life. Harry, you’ve gone through this. You know what we’re fighting against. You’re a computer software specialist, and your skills would help us. So, what do you say? Will you join with us?”

I glanced across the room, facing the door. My enemy lay on the other side, hypnotized, helpless. Vulnerable. She was my enemy. But she was also an innocent, caught up in something bigger than herself. I wondered idly how many others were out there, just like her, searching for victims to spread their warped views to. I sighed deeply, then, and made the choice I had to make...

So I became one of The Group. It was really a no-brainer. I had been run through the gauntlet, and I wanted to make sure no one else had to go through it as well. Yeah, it sounds good, I suppose... but there was also a part of me that just wanted Them to pay. I wanted to personally be there at the final battle, to see Their faces, and whether we won or lost, I personally wanted my shot at whoever took my love away from me.

Angela was reformed. A complex program of intense hypnotherapy and straight-out mind control from one of The Group’s ingenious little devices undid all her programming. I don’t know exactly what she was like before falling victim to Them. I’d never met her before. But I know the person she is now, and I kinda like her. Free from her enslaved behavior, she returned home to her husband. He’d been left alone by the one who’d taken Angela, and though he’d given up all hope of ever seeing her again, he was delighted when she returned to him. As a precaution, we hard-wired a few commands to keep her from falling victim to Them again, should they try to retake her, and since her deprogramming was done in a blank empty room, and the Group members that helped her wore masks, she would be unable to identify any of us anyway. Still, she was one of several hundred women deprogrammed that we kept surveillance on, just in case.

And Rebecca? Sadly, she was never restored. It was several years before any of us came across her. The thing about mind control is that its a very rapidly expanding field. The human mind is truly a very fragile thing, and so easily altered, yet so very hard to restore. By the time I once again had Rebecca in my grasp, she’d been so fully conditioned to being one of Them, that there was no way to restore her. Her lesbianism had been hard-wired to the very core of her being now, and to erase that would virtually destroy her mind completely. She had been my wife, and I was given the final call. I settled for leaving her mostly the same, altering her with complex and immutable commands to keep her from ever enslaving another girl as she had been. So far as I know, she lives happily somewhere in San Diego, with the three girls she’d managed to turn before we caught her.

Yes. I was once a victim of Them, as every other member of The Group has been. We all have stories to tell. Mine is a perhaps no less sad than any other. But there are two kinds of victims: those that choose to stay a victim, and those that choose to fight back. I’m happy to say, I’m now one of the latter.