The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I’m afraid that I’m going to have to make a small administrative note. The reader has been very patient with me thus far in my tale. However, to maintain accuracy with regards to the timeframe from this point forward, I must dramatically abbreviate some of my entries. As you notice the days flying by, please take note of the relative high points as I plunge recklessly toward the introduction and integration of one new major character in our little drama and a brief reintroduction of an older one.

NOVEMBER 24th, 2011

For the first time ever, Tod did not make it to Pop’s house for Thanksgiving dinner. He called to make his regrets (though he didn’t talk to me, personally), and explain that he had a job interview on Friday in Salinas. That, of course, was a lie. He was so pissed off about what I’d had him do that he didn’t want to be around me.

DECEMBER 2nd, 2011

This was the first day I became cognizant that Elaine was away from the house more and more often. When I asked her about it, she told me that she was really getting into the Christmas spirit this year, and was hanging out at the mall and other shopping centers. I didn’t question her further. Looking back on it, I should have known that her devious little mind was hatching some exotic scheme … the type that only Elaine seems capable of putting together.

DECEMBER 9th, 2011

I decided to phone and have it out with my brother, and if he didn’t answer my call (the way he’d refused to answer my three previous attempts) I was going to track him down and talk to him in person. To my surprise, however, he picked it up on the second ring.

I told him I was sorry, and he said he accepted my apology. That sort of threw me a little. I was expecting a bit more indignation, and maybe a verbal fight. Somewhat at a loss for words, I mentioned that we’d missed him at Thanksgiving … that we should go out and do dinner soon … that maybe we could do some skiing up in the mountains. I tried to start all sorts of lines of conversation, with only non-committal comments and grunts in response, until I finally broke the code. He was still pissed off at me, but it was going to be alright. He just needed to nurse his righteous anger a few more days before finally allowing the hard feelings to slip away. I’m not sure just HOW I knew that, but I did. Maybe some of those old wives’ tales are right after all. Maybe twins DO just know.

DECEMBER 14th, 2011

I arrived back from a day at the UCLA Library. I had decided to finish up the doctorate, taking one or two courses in the next semester. After all, I only had five courses and the thesis to go. Traffic was bad, and it took me two and a half hours to make it home. I’d phoned ahead twice to tell Elaine that I was going to be late. Whatever foul mood the freeways had produced fled, however, when I walked in the front door and was assaulted by the wonderful aroma of the meal my wife had prepared. I walked into the kitchen just as she was finishing with the salad, and she turned to me, smiling and shy in a wonderfully slinky negligee, rushing to give me a deep kiss. I asked her the occasion, hoping beyond hope that I hadn’t forgotten something important, but she just moved away from me and took a bottle of champagne from the refrigerator. I tried to take it from her to pop the cork, but she insisted on doing it herself. She’d obviously orchestrated this, and after finally bouncing the cork off the ceiling and squealing as the bottle frothed onto the tiled floor, she poured a full flute for me, but only two scant drops in her own glass. She smiled broadly while the glasses dinged musically together in a toast.

“Is that all you’re having?” I asked, with a lifted eyebrow.

“I’m not having any alcohol for nine months,” she told me merrily, and then shrieked in laughter as I picked her up and twirled her about several times.

Through the course of the meal and the hour in bed making love afterwards, she told me about her appointment at the doctor’s office, confirming what the home pregnancy kit had already indicated. She was wonderfully excited and happy, and glowed almost constantly. We talked about the future, where the nursery was going to be, what colors we were going to paint it, where the little tyke was going to go to college, and on and on and on.

Finally, lying in my arms after a very, very tender lovemaking session, she began tracing circles through my chest hair, which meant, I knew, that she had something serious to say. “What is it, Pet?” I asked her.

“I am better than you,” she said softly.

“Oh, ARE you now?”

“Yes,” she answered without humor. “I am capable of more diverse thought processes.”

“More … diverse?” I asked, grinning. “Diversity isn’t always better, where thought processes are concerned.”

“But yes, it is,” she told me. “I believe it is, anyway. It is the way I am. I would like you to respect me, please. Respect the way I am.”

I frowned. “Elaine, you should never doubt my respect for you … ever. What is this all about?”

“I have faith, Rod. You do not. For you, faith is only a belief that needs to be proven scientifically. Without that evidence, faith ceases to exist. For me, faith doesn’t NEED to pass a test to survive.”

“Are we talking religion here?” I asked curiously. I looked down at her, into her eyes, and couldn’t read whatever was there. “Tell me what it is that you believe,” I urged. “And yes, I WILL respect whatever it is.”

She took a breath. “Rod, this child is yours. Not Tod’s … yours. We had sex the day before Tod and I … um … did it. And we had sex the day after.” I couldn’t stop a small smile, and I instantly regretted it. She looked away, hurt.

“Pet, I ….”

“Rod, this is just a feeling I have. Call it a conviction, if you want. Deep in my heart, deep in my soul, I just KNOW that this baby is yours.” She sighed deeply. “Now, I realize that you have the power to make me change my mind. I know that you can hypnotize me and ….”

“Ah, THAT’s what this is about!” I said, nodding. Now, my smile was genuine, and she seemed to pick up on that, a look of hope in her eyes. “Pet,” I told her earnestly, “first of all, I cannot MAKE you think something you don’t WANT to think. Hypnotically, I can suggest something … but your conscious mind doesn’t HAVE to accept that suggestion if it doesn’t want to. And secondly, I would never try to force you to believe something that you didn’t want to … or vice versa. Of course I respect you. I love you.”

She was silent for a long time, and I, being a rather dense fellow, didn’t realize that she was crying. Maybe there’s a reason guys are dense. As it turned out, being silent and just holding her was exactly what I should have done. I decided to consider such actions in the form of a scientific theorem. I could call it “natural male dominance through denseness.”

DECEMBER 19th, 2011

I don’t know what there was about Southern California that attracted pulp authors from the early Twentieth Century, but there sure were a lot of them (many transplanted from out east … the way most Californians were). Carroll John Daly, Raymond Chandler, Erle Stanley Gardner … the list goes on and on. But right at the top of most critics’ lists sits Edgar Rice Burroughs. Burroughs’ large ranch, between Burbank and Thousand Oaks, eventually became the city of Tarzana (and if you can’t figure out how they came up with that name, then you obviously don’t know who the man was). I had just returned from a fan convention there when I was verbally accosted by my lovely wife.

“Where have you BEEN!?!” she shrieked, pushing me back toward the door.

“I told you …” I stuttered defensively, “… they were having this pulp convention ….”

She was shoving me back in the direction of the car. I wisely decided not to argue. “I’ve been trying to call you!” she shouted accusingly.

Now, I WAS feeling guilty. “I … uh … set my cell phone to vibrate because we were in a theater watching outtakes from the first Johnny Weissmuller movie,” I tried to explain. “I forgot to … uh ….” I gave it up and climbed behind the wheel. “Where are we going?”

She shushed me and worked frantically with the GPS for a few moments, reading an address from a scrap of paper. The device started barking orders and I sighed and set off. “We’re going out to dinner,” she said, fastening her seat belt.

“Where?”

She replied with our favorite restaurant in Burbank, which really confused me, because the GPS was sending us to someplace here in Pasadena. In response, she broke into a twenty-four carat smile and said: “I’ve FOUND her, Rod!”

I cleared my throat. “Okay. The way you said that makes me think that perhaps I should know what in the hell you’re talking about. You found WHO?”

She sat back and grinned in a self-satisfied way. “I found ME!”

For a moment, I wondered if maybe I shouldn’t be driving to the nearest mental health facility. “And you live …” I pointed at the GPS, “… there?”

She laughed. “Oh, Rod, just wait until you meet her! You’ll see! She walks like me, she talks like me, she THINKS like me! She’s closer to me than … ME!”

I shook my head slightly, as if something was a little loose in there. “And … um … how did you happen to meet … you?”

She laughed again. “Her name is Sandy. And I saw her coming out of Trader Joe’s and walking toward the downtown shops. I’ve been looking for … um … likely candidates for a few weeks now. And suddenly, there she was! So I followed her, and when I saw her sit down at an outdoor café, I got something and asked if I could join her. And we just started talking about ….”

I was just about to ask the obvious question, but this last sentence pushed it right out of my head. “You sat down with …?”

“I know. That’s so incredibly UNLIKE me, isn’t it? I mean, I’m too shy to EVER do something like that, aren’t I?” She hesitated, blushed, looked at me askance for a moment and said: “Remember our first date?”

My thoughts were suddenly going in so many different directions at once that I had to concentrate hard on my driving. “Um … of course I remember our first date.”

“Remember how I went to the ladies’ room and I was … gone for awhile?”

“I was afraid you’d run off and left me,” I answered, nodding, as the GPS barked another order.

“I was in there throwing up,” she said.

I shot a glance at her. “Well, THAT’s a hell of thing to tell a guy!”

“Oh, you can take the truth now,” she said confidently. “But you were SO charming, and SO nice … and all at once, I was SO in love with you! And, you know how nervous and shy I am … and I just KNEW I was going to blow it! My first big chance at happiness!” She sighed, grinning at the past. Then, she turned and looked at me for emphasis. “But that’s the way SHE is! Sandy is just like a little baby bird that you hold in your palm, and she’s frightened of the world and the evil things in it, but all she REALLY wants is to have faith and trust, and lose herself to friendship and love ...” she paused again, “… just like me.”

The GPS announced that we had reached our destination. I pulled over and stopped, when I suddenly remembered the forgotten thought. “What do you mean you were looking for ‘likely candidates?’” I asked. “Likely candidates for WHAT?”

She blinked and looked at me. “Why, for TOD, of course.”

I was thunderstruck. “Elaine, what have you done?”

“We’re picking up Sandy, and then we’re meeting Tod at the restaurant … in …” she checked her watch, “… twenty minutes.”

“You got Tod to agree to a blind date? Tod has never been on a blind date in his LIFE!”

Now, she fidgeted. “Well, I didn’t really tell him we were bringing her.”

I closed my eyes and opened them again. Nope, this wasn’t a nightmare. This was horrifyingly real. She got out of the car. Then I, rushing too fast, fumbling with the handle, somehow got my door open and got out, as well. “Elaine! You can’t ….”

She stopped her quick pace toward the front door of an apartment building and turned back toward me. “Rod! Get back in the car! She doesn’t know YOU’RE going out with us, either. Remember what I told you … she’s very nervous … and painfully shy. Just sit there and … uh … be charming.” And she spun on her heel and sprinted into the apartment house.

I got back behind the wheel and tried to understand the magnitude of what was happening. Without giving it a second thought, I took my cell phone and dialed Tod’s cell number. It went right to voice mail, and I left an urgent message to call me. Just to make sure, I called his apartment number, as well, but it rang the requisite four times before going to voice mail, too. I sighed. As if he wasn’t torqued off at me enough as it was! Oh man, he was NEVER going to forgive me for THIS!

Elaine was suddenly back with another girl at her side. Protocol demanded that I do something more than just sit there, so I once again opened the car door and got out to meet this lady. I don’t like to boast, but I believe I deserve some sort of award for not laughing out loud.

The woman was so incredibly UNLIKE Elaine, that at first, I considered the comparison to be as close to an opposite as I could imagine. My wife is moderately tall. Sandy is so short that the word “petite” hardly does her justice. Elaine’s brown hair is long, Sandy’s is dramatically short … almost a butch … and it was fiery red rather than blonde, as you’d expect a “Sandy” to be. A smattering of freckles adorned the bridge of her nose and cheeks. Also, if you were to put Elaine in silhouette and digitize the picture, every pixel would fall on an arc. She is made up entirely of curves. But Sandy’s outline is all conjoining straight lines. And while Elaine is far from fat, her body is full and soft. Sandy, on the other hand, while far from skinny, is slender, muscular, athletic.

I put out my hand to her as my wife introduced us, and her initial reaction was to shrink back from me. She was sort of a cross between a frightened rabbit and a deer caught in the headlights. I seemed to fascinate and terrify her in the same instant. She blinked up at me, then resolutely took my hand and gripped it firmly, though her eyes were able to make contact for only a few seconds. I held the back door for her, and the way she looked at it, you’d think I was asking her to enter the cavern leading to the River Styx. She gulped and shivered, then resolutely got in. I glanced questioningly at Elaine, who uncharacteristically smiled, rolled her eyes toward the heavens and gave a self-congratulatory fist-pump, before dashing around the car and climbing into the front passenger seat.

There comes a time of the day in Los Angeles when the traffic breaks free and proceeds almost instantaneously from bumper-to-bumper-stop-and-go to full-speed-ahead. It’s a different time every day, of course … as well as a different time for each freeway. For whatever reason, that time had passed on the 134, and we made the restaurant right on schedule. All the way there, Elaine chattered like a caged finch, never giving either of us other occupants the chance to chime in or begin a conversation.

Sandy followed along like a little child trailing behind her parents as we made our way into the restaurant and toward the place where Tod already sat waiting. We stood facing each other at the table for only a second before Elaine started in on the introductions; but then, for what seemed like an hour, time stood still. Sandy looked as if she’d been stricken with a sudden fatal disease. Tod, however, seemed to think the whole thing was preposterous to the point of hilarity. He threw back his head and laughed, which, at first, angered Elaine and practically caused Sandy to swoon. But while most laughter is contagious, Tod’s is particularly so, and I couldn’t seem to stop myself from joining in. Elaine finally followed suit, and even Sandy cracked a smile.

As we all sat down, Tod accused me of high treason, and informed me that he was already beginning to think in terms of payback. I indignantly pointed out that his cell phone was off (actually the battery had died), which now made my wife accuse me of the same crime. Sandy, unable to contain her curiosity any longer, interrupted with that age-old question: “Are you guys TWINS?”

And so the evening progressed in a series of fits and starts. This was one of the thousand eateries in the LA area that boasted the “Best Burger in Town,” and we decided to test that claim; the ladies splitting something with avocados on it, while Tod and I each went whole hog, with bacon and cheese and sundry other ingredients. To my amazement, as the meal was ending, we learned that Sandy worked at JPL in Pasadena as a data coordinator for nuclear space systems, which prompted me to try to explain the differences between nuclear power generation and nuclear propulsion. Before I could really get into that wonderful topic, however, Elaine kicked me under the table (the first time she’d ever done that) and announced: “Yes, I’d LOVE to dance.”

“Dance?” I asked, dumbfounded. A band had just struck up, though that particular thought had NEVER occurred to me. She was already up and heading toward the dance floor, so I was forced to stumble after her. “I can’t DANCE!” I protested, as she stopped, spun and grabbed me in her arms. And indeed, I cannot. I might be able to attempt it someday, if I happen to gain any sense of rhythm at all. Or coordination. Or balance. Or any of the other things that are necessary for that particular pastime. Fortunately for my wife, it was a slow dance, and so we just sort of held each other and rocked back and forth. When the music switched to something more animated, I tried to escape, but Elaine wouldn’t let me, and I was forced to self-consciously jerk and gyrate in front of my spouse, who looked lithe and sinuous and sexy. Finally, finally, she relented and let me lead her back to our table, which was empty now, and I spotted Tod and Sandy out on the floor. I wondered casually how long my wife would have forced me to make a fool of myself out there if they hadn’t taken the hint, and I cringed at the thought.

I had to admit they made an interesting couple. He towered over her, and yet somehow they just seemed to “fit.” I suddenly became aware of the fact that she was very athletic, and she remained balanced and sure of herself as he led her more rapidly and dramatically all over the dance floor. “Maybe you should dance with Tod,” I muttered, feeling jealous and insecure.

“Mmmm, maybe I will, sometime,” she responded dreamily. “But not tonight. I bet you that they stay out there for two or three more numbers. And I bet you that he drives her home.”

“You’re on,” I said at once. She’d forgotten, of course. Pop, as a college graduation present, had told us that he’d buy us any car we wanted. I had asked for a Toyota Prius, but Tod wanted a Harley Electra Glide. Now, I hate to keep talking about how different everything is in California, but if you’ve ever spent a few hours on our highways, you are probably very aware that, when it comes to motorcycles, there is NO place like here. Dudes on bikes have their own rules … literally. They can ride in any lane … or choose to ignore them entirely and maneuver between vehicles … between lanes … whenever they please, usually doing so a breakneck speeds. Pop likes to call motorcyclists in California “Organ Donors.” I will admit that Tod is saner than most riders, but the fact remained … if he was going to give sweet, shy Sandy a lift home, she’d be on the back of a Harley. There was just no way. “What do you want to bet?” I asked my wife. “Put your money where your mouth is!”

She smiled sweetly. “If I win, you have to let me suck you,” she said.

I barked a laugh. “And if you lose?”

“If I lose,” she said, her smile spreading across her face, “I’ll suck you.”

They danced for three more numbers. When they finally came back to the table, Tod announced that he was driving her home tonight. I stammered a few incredulous interrogatives, but Tod just shrugged and told us that he carries a spare helmet. Sandy stood there and blushed rather cutely … then gave us a little wave as she followed him out.

And as soon as I opened the door to our house that night, Elaine attacked me voraciously. It was the best blow job I’ve ever had.

DECEMBER 22nd, 2011

Elaine had lunch with Sandy. It was a full workweek for most people … Christmas was on a Sunday that year. Later that evening, over dinner, she confided to me that Tod had taken Sandy out the preceding evening, as well.

“And they did it,” she said, solemnly.

“Hmmm. And on the second date. That is NOT proper protocol. You and I had the decency to wait until our third.”

But that didn’t earn the smile I had hoped for. “Just like me,” she muttered. “She gave him her virginity.”

I cleared my throat. “Okay, THAT’s a little more information than I needed.” She didn’t respond to that, either. I couldn’t figure it out. “What’s eating you, Pet?”

She sighed. “Two dates,” she told me. “I knew they’d be attracted to each other, but after just two dates, she’s head-over-heels in love. She would do ANYTHING for him.” She was silent for a long minute. “Rod, I’m worried. She’s such a … delicate girl. Do you think Tod’s intentions are … honorable?”

That was just too much, sorry, and I threw back my head and roared with laughter. Unfortunately, mine is obviously not as contagious as my brother’s, and my pretty wife grew a tad impatient with that response. “Pet, I am NOT going to ask my brother what his ‘intentions’ are with your new friend. I realize that you feel responsible for their relationship, but it is THEIR relationship, after all.”

She sighed and refused to address the topic further.

DECEMBER 23rd, 2011

Evidently, according to Elaine … who seemingly was getting daily phone calls from her new friend … the two lovebirds spent the night together again. Then, she had called in sick and they spent the next day in each other’s company, as well. That evening, she had set out for her parents’ house in Palm Springs for the holidays. I called Tod that evening and causally asked how he was doing.

Just fine, he had replied.

DECEMBER 25th, 2011

It was a really nice holiday. Elaine and I spent the morning together, opening presents and just enjoying a special day. And that evening, as was our custom, we went to Pop’s house for dinner. Tod was there, and as a special “gift,” we announced the pregnancy. Everyone was happy, though Tod didn’t ask me the question that I’m sure was uppermost on his mind … then or any time since.

Just after the meal, he excused himself and went into what was once his old bedroom to make a phone call. More than an hour later, he emerged to tell us that he intended to drive to Palm Springs that evening. This was the first time Pop had heard that there WAS a current girlfriend in his life. Tod explained that he wanted to “meet her people,” and that this was a great time to do it. But he astounded us all when he asked Pop if he could use the cabin in Big Bear to “do a little skiing” on the way back. Pop’s response was that sure he could, as long as he left the “damned motorcycle” in the garage … and he flipped Tod the keys to his SUV.

I heard later that Tod and Sandy actually DID do some skiing while they were there. Of course, as it turned out, they stayed in that cabin for almost two weeks.

JANUARY 20th, 2012

They’d only known each other for a month at this point, but I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed a relationship that was more “full speed ahead.” This assessment, however, is not completely accurate, since their association was certainly unique. (Then again, I guess each relationship is unique, to some degree or another.) Elaine was right; Sandy really WAS just like her … emotionally, anyway. She seemed to go along with just about everything Tod wanted, and never made any demands on him at all. He was in a pretty tough spot at the time, having just been laid off from the position of assistant coach and PE instructor at a high school in the valley due to a seemingly never-ending series of state budget cuts.

Since they’d returned from their little extended jaunt to the mountains, they were spending many of their days together, and most of their nights. Tod didn’t like the commute between their places and had started hinting at moving in together; and Sandy seemed to support him in that decision, just as she apparently supported him in all of them.

Elaine had somehow found the opportunity to get together with Sandy four or five times in the intervening weeks for lunches or a girls’ night out. Tod and I had gotten together for drinks once; and we’d all gone out together for dinner once, as well. From what I could gather, Tod couldn’t be happier about the situation, and Sandy seemed content to be floating along on Cloud Nine, just so long as that cloud was somewhere in his general vicinity.

And so, it was with mild surprise that I returned home late one afternoon to find Sandy in our living room, sitting with Elaine in a rather stiff posture and with an air of impending confrontation. I got the feeling that I was a referee who had just shown up late in the ring for a major title fight. They didn’t seem actually angry, but the atmosphere was electric with tension and perceived friction. I cleared my throat, insisted on kissing my wife hello, and engaging in a little hug-and-peck-on-the-cheek with Sandy, who was stiffer than usual, but shy and pliant enough to acknowledge the greeting as friendly. Finally, unable to stall any longer, I asked what the matter was.

“Rod,” Elaine began hesitantly. “Sandy has become my best friend, and I can’t keep secrets from her.”

“Ah,” I said. Well, this was bound to come out sooner or later, I thought. “And just how much did you ….”

“She needs to know, Rod. There’s really no reason that ….”

“Of course,” I interrupted. I was sitting in the easy chair, facing the two of them on the couch. Sandy was leaning forward expectantly. I sighed and put my forearms on my knees, gesturing with my hands toward her. “Alright, Sandy, it’s true. Elaine and Tod have been together, but it was all my ….”

Elaine gave a little gasp, and Sandy rocked back away from me in shock. She turned toward my wife and exclaimed: “You’ve SLEPT with Tod?”

Elaine looked at me frantically before turning back to her friend. “No! I mean, yes we … uh ….. That is, we … weren’t sleeping.”

Sandy’s jaw dropped open. “Weren’t sleeping …?”

I studied Elaine curiously, and found that she was looking rather ill at the moment. “Well, what in the world …?” I decided I could try to figure out the topic of this odd situation later. Right now, I had to do some fast damage control. I turned back toward Sandy. “Look, you don’t have to feel … um … jealous or anything. They did it because she wanted to get pregnant and ….”

Sandy’s eyes got a big as saucers, and she again turned accusingly to Elaine. “You mean … your baby is HIS?!?”

“NO!” Elaine exclaimed, at the precise instant I said “Yes.” Sandy glanced from her to me, and back again, and again. She’d turned more than a little pale, and her mouth was opening and closing to form questions, but she didn’t seem capable of producing words. She rose from the couch and Elaine rose with her, her hand outstretched as if she was trying to recapture a friendship that had just flown away.

“ENOUGH!” I barked at the top of my lungs. They had both turned, one to flee, the other to pursue, but now they froze and glanced at me questioningly. “SIT!” I screamed. And as if it was choreographed, they sat back down, each with their knees together and their hands in their laps. The movement was so funny that I had to put my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing, which, at this juncture, would have just about been the last nail in my coffin. Trying to solve emotional problems at the spur of the moment is definitely not my strong suite, and I tried desperately to come up with some way to put a positive spin on things. I took a deep breath and plunged in.

“Sandy, whatever happened between Tod and Elaine was entirely my doing, and I take full responsibility. You see, a little less than a year ago, I was involved in a nuclear accident. I was exposed to an awful lot of radiation, and it damn near killed me.”

She blinked up at me. I could almost see the analytical wheels spinning in that pretty head, but the change in subject matter had confused her. “Yes,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “Elaine told me about it. You were at Fukushima.” I should have known. She was involved with those areas of the science herself.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to oversimplify. Well, there were the problems you might expect from that level of absorption: immune system breakdown, internal burns, destruction of some soft tissues. It really did a number on my reproductive system.”

“Sperm mutation,” she muttered.

She really DID know about it. Such mutations are a common side effect of radiation poisoning … though it is usually connected to long-term exposure … and can lead to birth defects in offspring. “No,” I answered. “Fortunately, there’s been no sign of that at all. But sperm production is extremely low. I’ve also been worrying about some bad tumor marker tests, and that’s why I asked Tod to do this for me. It was only once, and only at my insistence. Obviously, it was before he met you. He didn’t want to do it.”

Finally, she smiled, though it was a sad sort of smile. “Don’t lie, Rod. Of course he wanted to do it. He’s in love with her.” My wife made a small noise, as if she wished to refute this, but she remained silent.

“I give you my word,” I told Sandy solemnly. “He told me beforehand that he didn’t want to do this … in fact, he tried to talk me out of the plan. But he went ahead and did it, anyway, because … well, because we’re very close, and he knew how important it was to me. I was being too … well … analytical about the whole thing, while he was worried about the emotional repercussions. Afterwards, he refused to speak to me for weeks, he was so pissed off.” She looked confused for a moment, and perhaps a little hopeful, and I pressed on. “So, the bottom line here is that both parties that evening were only doing it for ME. Elaine refuses to believe that it did any good … that the baby is ours and not Tod’s. Quite frankly, it simply doesn’t matter to me. I chose a course of action … and whether that action was the CAUSE of our success or not is superfluous. Anyway, blame me all you want … but you shouldn’t blame either Tod or Elaine.”

She actually managed a genuine smile at my sincerity and nodded up at me. I sighed deeply. “And now,” I said, turning almost accusingly toward my sweet wife, “if you want me to be so open and honest with Sandy about everything, but ‘everything’ didn’t include that evening with Tod or the pregnancy, just what the hell ARE you talking about?”

Elaine blushed and fidgeted even more, hesitating, and at last, it was Sandy who supplied the answer. “You hypnotize her,” she said, almost in awe. “You’ve enslaved her. She’s given herself to you completely, and now, she’s your hypnotic sex slave.”

This caught me a little off guard. I just couldn’t understand why she would consider my relationship with Elaine particularly important, especially compared to the significance of a supposed love child with her boyfriend. “Um … yes … she and I have a rather … odd relationship. It’s what she wants, and I love her … so I found a way to give her the feelings she … uh … desires. Why are you so concerned about that?”

“Does Tod know?” she asked bluntly.

Again I was surprised into a fit of stuttering inarticulation. “Um … well, it was sort of hard to manipulate … uh … I mean … yes, of course, he’d have to ….”

“He KNOWS?” Elaine exclaimed.

“See? I told you,” Sandy told her. “They’re twins. They tell each other everyth ….”

“NO!” I interrupted so loudly that they both again resumed their identical silent poses. “I mean … we do NOT tell each other everything. And Pet, if you think back on that evening, you’d understand that I couldn’t have gotten you to do it without having you ….” I suddenly stopped and thought about this entire conversation. Why was I suddenly trying to defend myself? And what was it that I was suddenly defending myself from? I looked curiously at both of them. “What in the WORLD is this all about?” I asked bluntly.

Elaine turned pleading eyes toward her friend. Sandy, in turn, fidgeted and blushed, looked as if she was trying to get her courage up, and finally said: “Rod, you MUST know that Tod is in love with Elaine. I mean, it’s just in his posture, his manner, the way he looks at her.”

“Alright, now see here!” I barked. “You two are either imagining this, or putting much more emphasis on something that simply isn’t significant. Men can be attracted to other women without falling in love! Hell, I don’t mind telling you that I find YOU extremely attractive. But that doesn’t mean I LOVE you the way I love Elaine … or that I love Elaine any less. Tod is madly, insanely in love with you. And if you feel threatened by his ….”

I fell silent at the expression on her face. She was looking down, unable to meet my eyes, blushing deeply and shaking her head. “You don’t understand,” she told me softly.

I sighed. Women! Why did they have to be so infuriatingly secretive? “MAKE me understand!” I ordered.

“He didn’t date anyone else after you married her,” she explained almost patiently. This physically shocked me. I quickly scoured my memory to figure out if it was true, and I was stunned to realize it was. Oh, on occasion, he’d gone out… but never more than one-night-stands. “I know I’m just catching him on the rebound,” Sandy continued “… and I’m content with that. I’ll take him anyway I can get him. But I want to be like her. I NEED to be like her.” She paused to let that sink in, and I guess my confused countenance convinced her to press on with her argument. “I want you to hypnotize me, Rod. I want you to make me a slave, as well. HIS slave. I NEED to be his slave!”

I suddenly found it necessary to sit back in the chair. Next, I consciously closed my mouth, which had somehow fallen open. I blinked. “You want me to turn you into a sex slave?” I said dully.

“HIS sex slave,” she emphasized, then blushed again and dropped her gaze. “I trust you, of course. I will put myself entirely in your hands. I know you would never hurt him.” She breathed a sigh. “You can do whatever you want to me. I’ll just give in and allow you to take charge … I’ll surrender to you, and you can do whatever it is you need to do to make me the way Elaine is.”

I was quiet for several minutes, thinking this thing through. Each of them started to speak … to say something to further accentuate their cause, but I held up a hand to silence them each time, and the minutes crept on while I contemplated courses of action. Now, some of you more devious-minded souls in the reading audience might suggest that the idea of enslaving them BOTH and keeping them for my own amusement probably crossed my mind during this period. I can say with a clear conscience that it did not. However, the concept of presenting my brother with a newly-minted sex slave of his own DID have a definite appeal.

Finally, I nodded to them. “Alright, let me talk to Tod about it and ….”

“No … please!” Sandy begged. “Please, Rod, do it tonight! Do it now! I promise that I’ll explain to him that you didn’t WANT to do it … that it was me who begged you to do it. And if he’s really upset, you can … undo it or turn it off or something. But when he sees how important it is to ME, I’m sure he’ll … he’ll let me be the way I want to be … to give myself to him … utterly, completely. Please?”

Again I fell into silent thought for a long two minutes, contemplating not only “if,” but “how.” At long last, I rose. “Okay, let me make a phone call. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“But, who are you going to …?” Sandy began, but I was already out of the room, heading toward the study.

I keep my signed first edition in the side drawer of my desk, and before I could lose my nerve, I dialed the phone number inscribed on the last page of the introduction. I had done a quick rehearsal of what I wanted to say, realizing, of course, that quick rehearsals rarely result in a proper rendition of the script. Oddly enough, this one went pretty much according to plan.

“Hello?”

“Reggie? This is Rod Haversham, the guy you drank under the table in your local pub a couple months back.”

“Rod! Of course! How are you doing? How’s … um ….”

“Elaine. We’re doing fine. Great, in fact. We’re expecting a baby in August.”

“That’s tremendous! I think about that evening often. You made quite an impression on me. I really learned a lot.”

“Me too. Say listen, Reggie … I was wondering if you’d do me a big favor … a personal favor.”

“Sure, Rod, anything. Just name it.”

“My brother’s girlfriend … she and Elaine got to talking, and this girl … Sandy … has suddenly gotten it into her head that she wants to be for him … for my brother, that is … what Elaine is for me. She wants to be his slave … to surrender herself to him … to the same extent that Elaine has to me. I was wondering if you could do me that favor.”

There was pause. “Uh … sure, Rod. Absolutely. Just have her drop by the apartment for a quick interview ….”

“Interview?”

“Well, like I explained to you before, we don’t do this for just anybody. In fact, Cathy researches and recruits ….”

“Ah,” I interrupted. “Reggie, I can absolutely guarantee you that if Elaine was a good subject for your work, then Sandy will be, too. Perhaps even more so. Emotionally, they are practically identical. They’re both trying to talk me into this … the pair of them … and Sandy is actually begging me to allow her to become his slave.”

“Both of them are there now, huh?” Reggie paused again, considering. I heard him give a small sigh. “Alright, have them come over right now. I’ll use Elaine as a preliminary trance inducer. Her friend Sandy will see how quickly and easily it’s done, and she’ll be more at ease when it’s her turn. Do you think Elaine remembers the way here?”

“Yes. I’ll give her the address and apartment number again, to make sure. And Reggie, thanks a lot for this. I really mean it.”

“No problem, Rod. Don’t be a stranger.” And he hung up.

It had gone so much according to my plan that I was stunned. I opened the word processing program on my computer and started typing; but then I thought better of it, closed it, and instead took a sheet of blank paper and hand-wrote a brief letter:

Dear Reggie,

Thanks again for the great recommendations you gave me regarding my marital relationship with Elaine. And now, if you don’t mind, allow me to give you a brief suggestion regarding your marital relationship with Cathy. Please show her the enclosed check for fifty thousand dollars and remind her that you told me that you’d “charge me double for the second one.” Explain to her that you know a great investment opportunity when you see one. If that doesn’t earn you the best blow job of your life, I’ll eat my hat. Then take the aforementioned check and make a down payment on that cabin up at Arrowhead you said you always wanted. Explain to her that, in this market, it’s purely for capital speculation purposes … and then hang onto it forever.

Best regards,

Rod

I wrote out the check, put it and the letter in a legal envelope, and walked back to the living room. But I halted just before I turned the corner to the room and listened to their hushed conversation.

“And when he finally kissed me, I just sort of melted and surrendered to him,” Elaine was saying.

“He DOES tend to have that effect on a girl,” Sandy replied. “Is he … uh … I mean, is he like Rod? I mean ….”

“I guess they ARE identical, after all,” my wife confided. “I mean, size-wise. But they … well, the way they … USE it … it was different. In some ways, they aren’t the same at all.”

“Gosh,” Sandy replied, and she was silent for several seconds. “Did … did he make you cum?”

“Oh, God, did he ever! When I think about it, I ….”

“Yeah, I know. He makes me … uh ….” She didn’t finish, but after a pause, she asked: “Does Rod make you … uh … you know … like that?”

“Oh, gosh, you’d better believe it! Every time! Every single time! But like I said, he’s different. I mean, he’s not the same … way. It’s hard to explain.”

I thought that was quite enough of that, and rounded the corner and walked in on them. “Okay, it’s all set,” I said loudly. “Sandy, are you absolutely SURE you want to do this?”

They had both fallen guiltily silent upon my entry, and while our redheaded friend couldn’t muster the internal strength to meet my gaze, she answered swiftly and surely, “Yes, Rod. Yes, I’m sure.”

I handed Elaine the envelope. “Here, give this to Reggie Cathwright. I put his address on the back, if you’ve forgotten the way. Do whatever he says, and then drive Sandy back home.” I turned to Sandy. “Be sure and call Tod and tell him you’re going to be back late. This will probably take a few hours.”

They were both stunned into immediate silence. “Reggie?” Elaine finally asked when she’d found her voice. “Do I have to …?”

I silenced her with a gesture, then held out my hand to her and helped her to her feet. I put my hands on her shoulders and held her so that our faces were very close. “Obey me, Pet,” I commanded.

“Yes, Master,” she replied, then was immediately cognizant that she had disobeyed the rules by calling me that when there was someone else present. But this only emphasized to Sandy what was about to happen to her, and we both realized that the slip of the tongue was beneficial in this case. Elaine swallowed hard. “Rod, if he shows me the crystal, I’ll probably ….”

“I’ve given you a command, Pet.”

She took a deep breath. She blushed and cast a quick glance at Sandy before purposefully saying, “Yes, my Master.” She picked up her purse and gestured to her friend to follow her toward the door.

“Oh, and Elaine,” I said as an afterthought. She paused and looked back at me. “I want you to ask him a question for me. Make sure you remember. Bring me the answer.” She nodded and waited for me to continue. “Ask him … Dodgers or Angels?”

She gave a small smile, nodded, and walked out of the room. Sandy, her eyes large and doe-like, followed in her wake.

I knew it would probably take awhile, but man, time drags by when you’re awaiting the outcome of something important. I fixed myself a salad, perused the news online, and finally decided to get ready for bed and read awhile. I was suddenly on a Robert Leslie Bellem kick. Bellem wrote an awful lot of stuff back in the pulp era … a million words a year at his peak in the mid-1930’s, and he dabbled in all sorts of genres. But his most famous serial character was “Dan Turner, Hollywood Detective” in Spicy Detective Magazine. The stories were sexy, but the sex was all assumed … nothing too risqué could actually be printed in those days. They were also loaded with so many hardboiled similes and metaphors that the works are downright hilarious to today’s readers. I’d found dozens of the stories in free online e-reader websites, and three them kept me preoccupied for a little while, anyway.

At long last, I heard her coming in the front door, and she entered the room, rather subdued and shy, and sat on the edge of the bed beside me. “Did you eat any dinner?” I asked her.

“Yes,” she answered softly. “Cathy fixed us sandwiches after about an hour, but ….”

“What is it, Pet? What happened?”

She sighed. “Well, he sat us down in his living room as soon as we got there, and then he took the letter you’d given me to deliver, and he excused himself for about ten minutes. Sandy was really nervous, so I kept telling her it would all be okay … and besides, it was too late to back out now. But to tell you the truth, I was pretty anxious myself. Anyway, when he came back, he told Sandy that he’d demonstrate how deeply and completely a good subject could be taken into a hypnotic trance by doing it to me first. So he held up a little velvet bag, just like ours, and I think I made a noise before I could stop myself, but then he was holding up the gem in front of me, and suddenly, I was SO sleepy. And I wanted to fight it, because I didn’t want anyone else to have that much power over me … but I remembered what you had told me, about doing whatever he said, so I decided to surrender … to just let myself go … and the next thing I knew, I was waking up in a chair in the dining room, and an hour had passed, and Cathy was serving us sandwiches.”

She took a breath to calm herself. “He was talking and talking about how lucky he was to be able to help women who wanted to release their ‘latent suppressed submissive desires,’ and I think Sandy was listening to him, but my mind was in turmoil, because I realized that he could do ANYTHING to me, and I wouldn’t be able to fight it. After we’d eaten for awhile, he got up and walked around the table and stood behind Sandy’s chair, and he put his hands on her shoulders and leaned forward and whispered in her ear. And, oh Rod, it was like he’d just flipped a switch in her head. Just like that, she was asleep, and I think she’d have hit her head on the table if he hadn’t been holding her … and he lowered her slowly, until her cheek was resting on the table in front of her. And then … then he started walking around the table toward me. And I couldn’t make myself get up and run, though I really, really wanted to. I just sat there. And suddenly, I felt his hands on my shoulders, just like he’d done to Sandy. And then … then I felt his lips next to my ear. And then … I was waking up, and we were back in the living room again.”

My wife shuddered almost violently for a moment, then she stretched herself out across my body and rested her cheek on my chest. “It was time to go then, so we thanked him for his time, and he told us it was nice to see me again, and to meet Sandy. I was halfway out the door before I remembered your question, and he told me he was an Angels fan, but Cathy followed the Dodgers. And then we went back to the car and I drove Sandy to Tod’s apartment. We were both so quiet on the drive back, lost in our own thoughts … and finally, I asked her what had happened, and she just shrugged. I asked her how many times she’d gone to sleep for him, and she shrugged again and told me she didn’t know … and for awhile, I don’t think she even remembered being hypnotized at all. But she was obviously agitated about something, so I kept asking her what was wrong. And finally, she asked me if I ever sucked you when we made love.

“And I asked ‘You mean oral sex?’ and she really blushed and nodded. So, I told her that I didn’t used to because I didn’t like the taste of you, but I’d decided to try it again a couple months ago, and I found out that I really, really LOVED it, and that now, we do it all the time. And suddenly, she was asking all sorts of questions about it … what it was like having you in my mouth, and did I swallow your cum, and do men truly love it as much as everyone says they do? And she told me that she thought she’d been tremendously selfish for not doing it for Tod, and that she just HAD to try it again, like I had.” Elaine lifted her head and looked at me. She was flushed and excited. “And then we were at their place, and she grabbed the paper bag she she’d gotten at Reggie’s and she yelled goodbye, and she literally ran inside.” She sighed again. “But even while she was talking so excitedly, it was hard for me to pay attention. I was thinking about … something else.”

“What was that, Pet?” I asked.

She looked imploringly into my eyes. She had to work up her courage for a few more seconds before she could verbalize it. “Rod … how come you’ve never … never done it in my ass? I’ve read articles and stories, and I’ve … uh … I’ve heard that men really, really like doing it that way to a girl. But you’ve never made me … I mean … you’ve never asked me if you could. And, of course, I’d do it if you wanted me to. You’ve told me you like my ass. You pet me there all the time … and touch me there when we’re making love. And I’ll bet it would be really tight, and that you’d really like it, if you tried. And … I stopped at a drug store after I dropped Sandy off, and I bought some lubricant, so I’d be super-slippery for you. And if you were patient with me and did it … you know … slowly at first, so that I could get used to you being in there … I bet that I’D like it too. Maybe I’d like it as much as when I suck you. Rod, do you think you could ….”

“Enough!” I laughed. She blushed crimson and looked away. “I would love to try something new with you, Pet.”

Her head snapped up and there was hope and lust in her eyes. “You would?”

“But … um … don’t you think it’s just a little odd that you suddenly have this craving? It’s a little abrupt, isn’t it?”

She blinked up at me. “It’s just something I started thinking about on the way home,” she answered, crawling up my body until her lips were even with mine. “Isn’t a girl allowed to think about having sex with her husband?”

And the night was suddenly filled with the types of very graphic actions that pulp authors were never allowed to write about.