The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Friday evening!

Brian Bryce had practically skipped to his car after work. Deborah would be coming home from New York tomorrow afternoon!

God, the house was a mess! She would get home tomorrow and get everything cleaned up and maybe even fix a good dinner tomorrow night!

Life was ready to get back to normal. Thank God!

He found himself whistling as he walked up the steps, unlocked the front door and stepped in to suffer through his last night before—

Hmm!

Their son Christopher was sprawled out face first on the carpet. Brian’s brow furrowed. Was that—was that a metallic dart sticking out of the ass cheek of his pants?

Brian’s eyes flicked further up the room, where his daughter was also face first on the floor. She had been making a dash to the phone, to dial 911, perhaps? But another metallic dart was stuck through her skirt and into her butt.

This was not—no, things like this were not supposed to—

“Please, step in, Mr Bryce,” a big Armenian-looking guy with a raspy voice stepped from the kitchen and gestured with a dart pistol. “I’d hate to have to shoot you in the ass like the kids.”

Big swallow. “Uh ... with the way that you’re positioned in front of—” voice cracked, “in front of me, that’s a, uhm ... a physical impossibility?” Sweat was breaking out on his brow.

“Ahh, of course. I guess we’ll have to go for the much more painful gut shot, then.”

Brian Bryce stepped in. And closed the door. “Please. Please, nobody has to get hurt here. Right?”

The other man shrugged. “Ask the kids.”

“I—I—” Brian wiped his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I’m sorry. I sweat like a pig when I get nervous. I—I also—” giggle “I’m—I’m hyperventilating.”

The other guy raised an eyebrow and lifted the dart gun. “I can put you under if that will help.”

“No!” Brian’s voice broke again. “I’ll—If I can just sit down?”

“Sure. I was going to suggest that anyway. In the living room.”

Brian took two steps, then turned back and pointed at the kids. “They’re—they’re not dead, are they?”

“Nawwww. Just temporarily subdued. They can even keep the darts if they want—a little souvenir.”

“Thank—thank you.”

“No problem.”

Brian walked to the living room, to find an Italian-looking gentlemen sitting on his couch. “Please,” Brian’s voice cracked, “I have to ask you to move, I need to sit there.”

Aldo Gugino raised his eyebrows. “You understand that WE broke into YOUR house, Mr Bryce? WE’RE sort of ... giving the orders here?”

“I’m—I’m gonna be sick!”

Mr Gugino nodded, and the Armenian took Brian out to the kitchen to toss his cookies into the sink. When Brian was empty, he brought him back and sat him down. “I made sure he used the side with the garbage disposal, sir.”

Aldo nodded. Then steepled his fingers. “Mr Bryce, we are prepared to return your wife.”

“You HAVE MY WIFE—?!” Brian’s voice cracked again, then he cupped his mouth and made gagging sounds.

The Armenian shrugged. “He’s empty. It’s just dry heaves.”

“Excuse me,” Aldo caught Mr Bryce’s attention when the heaves seemed to be subsiding. He waved his hand a little non-believingly. “You hadn’t NOTICED? That your wife was missing? Do you not call each other when on business trips?”

“I—she—I thought she was just HAVING A GOOD TIME!”

A weird silence.

Aldo shrugged finally. “Anyway, Mr Bryce ... through no fault of her own, you wife became inadvertently involved in events not of her own doing. I remember when my Mama was taken from me as a child ... the pain ... the anguish. And I would not wish to inflict that on another. So we are returning your wife, the children’s mother, to you, Mr Bryce.”

“Thank GOD!” Mr Bryce burped wetly. He nervously concluded that he might just live through all this. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“However ...”

Ohgodno! Ohgodno! Here came the—the—well, he didn’t know what, but it could not be good!

“She HAS been ... partially processed ... as a sex slave.”

Several seconds passed. With no reaction.

“Uhm, Mr Bryce, did you not understand me?”

“No,” Brian shook his head, “she can’t—she can’t be a sex slave. She has to clean the house. This house is a mess. It needs to be cleaned. No sex.”

“Mr Bryce?” Aldo waited until the eyes came up to focus on him. “Do you understand what I am saying? Your wife has been re-trained to bring exquisite pleasure to men. She will willingly offer up any orifice for your use. As a prostitute, with the knowledge and technique we have given her, she would go for over $1000 a night. And she can be yours. If you wish. Or, we can restore her to the way she was before, though that will take time.”

“No ... no time. I need her back now. She was supposed to come home tomorrow—tomorrow afternoon. I’ve been waiting. This house is a mess. It needs—”

“—it needs to be cleaned. I got that part, Mr Bryce. So I take it that you want your wife ... untrained?”

“Yes, untrained. Untrained is good. And we can get back to normal. But she needs to get home. I’ve been waiting.”

Aldo nodded. “Back to normal.” Sigh. “You do realize, Mr Bryce, that most men would give their right testicle for a personal whore of this caliber?”

“Wh-whore? No, Deborah is not a whore. She’s a wife. Wives clean. And they cook. And it’s important for places to be cleaned. This place is a mess. And I’m hungry for a home-cooked meal.”

Aldo stood. “It shall be so, then, Mr Bryce. We will return your wife tomorrow afternoon, temporarily fixed. In three months, we will borrow her again for a week to fix her back permanently.”

Brian’s shoulders sagged. “Oh, thank you! Thank you! We’ll get ... back to normal!”

“The men that deliver her tomorrow will have additional instructions for you on her ‘care and feeding’ until we restore her permanently in three months.”

“Thank you, thank you.”

“And Mr Bryce,” Aldo raised an index finger, “No police or funny business tomorrow. I am being more than generous here. And there are far worse things than death. YOU could just as easily be the $1000 a night whore if you piss me off. Capisci?”

Brian stood there, eyes wide, mouth moving silently, shaking his head up and down, praying no, no, no, pleasegodno. He ... flatulated loudly. He couldn’t help it.

With a wince, Aldo nodded, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Yes ... yes, sir. Thank you, sir. No police. I understand. Back ... back to normal. That will be good. Thank you.”

Aldo and Lorenzo let themselves out while Brian Bryce quivered.

Lorenzo grinned once outside. “The turning him into a whore part we could do, sir, but we’d be hard-pressed to find somebody that would pay $1000 a night for that guy.”

Aldo smiled tolerantly. “Maybe Boris, after Dr Edison is done treating him ...”

A couple hours later, the kids came to. The knockout-drug hangover made their skulls feel like downtown during the road repair months of summer—utterly miserable, with enough vibratory noise and sweltering heat to back frustrated thoughts up for miles.

At least they didn’t find their father still quivering in the middle of the living room. Instead he was quivering at the kitchen table.

“Kids ... it seems that these men ... kidnapped your mom.”

“Mom’s been KIDNAPPED?!” Heather gasped, shocked and wide-eyed, then held her fingers to her brow as she winced. “Oh ... ow, ow, ow, ow.”

“The good news is that she’ll be returned tomorrow afternoon.” He involuntarily cut loose another fart. He knew he was out of danger now, but these stress symptoms kept erupting like aftershocks from a very scary earthquake.

“I ... I may be sick,” Heather gulped, then tried to stay focused on her breathing. She couldn’t afford to go throw up now. Mom had been ... kidnapped?!

“The bad news is ... it seems she may have been turned into a sex slave.”

“Mom’s a SEX SLAVE?!” Christopher gasped, shocked, then held his fingers to his brow as he winced. “Oh, man ... ow, ow, ow, ow.”

“I—I didn’t know how else to tell you guys—your mom’s been turned into a sex kitten. But she’s still your mom, and she’s still my wife, and we’re going to do everything we can to get her back to normal, right?”

Brian ... cut loose another one. He couldn’t help it—he had a very delicate digestive system. Which had already been disturbed by the haphazard meals he’d been forced to endure this week while his wife was gone. Add to that the experience HE just went through, and it was a recipe for—He farted again.

“Ohgod,” Heather whimpered and ran for the bathroom.

“Mom’s a ... sex slave?!” Christopher asked again, quietly this time, so as not to invoke the wrath of the gods of hangover.

“She’s been (gulp) trained to bring exquisite pleasure to men and could (fart) go for $1000 a night as a whore.”

“Ohgod ... oh, ohgod,” Jason gulped and ran for the kitchen sink. He used the side with the garbage disposal.

The rest of the night—let’s just say the whole household was sick with grief over their wife and mother and her ordeal.

Deborah woke feeling ... troubled.

She was in a lab setting again, but—she looked down quickly and noted with relief—she had clothes on this time.

Last time, she had—she had just—

Ohgod!

It started to come back to her, and she ... just ... curdled!

The ... things ... she had ... done ...

Just ... delighting in being NAKED ... in front of a STRANGE MAN?! Getting all ... AROUSED?! LUBRICATING over it?!

Taking an ... ERECTION?! A stranger’s HARD DICK?! Into her ... MOUTH?! The way she had ... TONGUED it?! Like a professional WHORE or something?!

Leaving slippery ... PUDDLES?! Of her own EXCITEMENT?! On the floor underneath her?! And glistening ... WETLY, EXCITEDLY up and down her own trembling legs?!

Playing with ... CUM?! Smearing it around ... on her TITS?! Before fingering ... GLOBS of it ... back into her MOUTH?!

And GRINNING?! As she ... SWALLOWED it?!

The ... SHEER ... BREATHTAKING ... THRILL of it all?!

The thrill of it ... AT THE TIME, that is! NOW, she just ... ohgod! If she could just die, she WOULD!

Ohgod! How COULD she have?! How could she have DONE those things?!

The door opened, and the same man in white coat entered.

Deborah’s cheeks flushed a shade redder. This was the man that had seen her naked! And ... excited! He’d seen her all aroused silly, and she’d ... PERFORMED ... for him!

“Uhm ... Mrs Bryce ... hi. I’m Dr Edison. How are you doing?”

Ohgod, she’d had—this man’s ERECT PENIS had been in her MOUTH! He’d pumped dick slime all over her eager tongue. Which she’d leaked out onto her bared breasts, then wiped up and swallowed, fingerful by fingerful ...

She had just ... SLUTTED! ... SHAMLESSLY, right in front of him! FOR him!

But now she had to face him ... SOBER?! And just AWASH in shame?!

How did he THINK she was doing?! She was CURDLING!

She wanted to claw out a hole in the floor, crawl deep down into it and HIDE!

“Mrs Bryce?”

“Uhm ...” she could not bring her eyes up, not after ... not after she’d ... DONE all those things for him. All those filthy ... slutty ... things ...

She cleared her throat. “Yes?” she asked, her cheeks a cherry red, her eyes at the floor.

How could she ... how could she BEAR this?!

“Mrs Bryce, I know it’s embarrassing for you, to remember ... how you acted, the things you did. I understand that. But we fixed things.”

Fixed?! Really?! Her eyes actually came up to meet his for a moment. Just exactly how could he FIX his dick being in her mouth?! And squirting semen all over her eager little tongue?! And her gratitude?! Her sheer GRATEFULNESS for ... for the mouthful of SPERM?! That she just ... played in?! Happier than a child with fingerpaints?!

Her eyes dropped again.

How could ... ANYTHING ... EVER fix that ... ?

Dr Edison took a deep breath as the woman obviously wanted to crawl inside herself and die. God, he hated people. They were just so ... messy. “Mrs Bryce, you’re probably a little confused right about now.”

Deborah’s eyes would not lift off the floor. “Did I ... earlier, did I actually ...”

“You sucked the pecker juice right out of my cock, Mrs Bryce,” he nodded. “Hungrily. Greedily. Shamefully. But that was just because you had been reprogrammed as a sex slave.”

She guessed ... she guessed that might explain things. As a sex slave, it would be okay to “suck cock.” Expected even. And all the other slutty things that entailed too. Things she’d done ... so eagerly. Still, “But why ... do I feel so ashamed now? I can’t—I can’t even look at you,” she told the floor.

“Well ... your reprogramming was sort of an error on our part. We ... mistook you for another woman, the actual subject. So you really ... shouldn’t have been turned into a sex slave. We’re, uhm, in the process of rectifying that situation. You’ve received some new reprogramming, as a hausfrau, and will soon be returned to your family.”

She was silent, eyes still downcast.

“Now ... won’t that be nice, Mrs Bryce? You’ll be back with your husband and children.” He tried to fashion his face into a kindly smile, though he came off more like a ferret with pepper up its nose.

A sob erupted from her throat, disconcerting him.

“Uh, you’re ... going back to your family. That’s a ... good thing?”

Her eyes did come up to his then, brimming with tears. “You can’t leave me like this ...”

“Uhm, I don’t understand, Mrs Bryce.”

“Dr Edison, I’m going to ... just die! I’ve—I’ve had your ... erection ... in my mouth! I’ve ... played ... in your semen! PLAYED in it! All over my breasts! I drooled it out and then slurped it back into my ... slutty ... mouth. That’s NOT something a wife and mother DOES! And yet ... I did. I played in your cum. I—I wanted nothing more at the time than to ... to make you squirt all over my face! Me! A mother! And a housewife and teacher! How can—how can I LIVE with that?!”

“Oh, that!” he sighed with relief. “That’s just the interaction between the hausfrau programming and the slut programming. You’ll just have to live with it until we can finish removing the slut programming. About three months.”

“Three months?!” she gasped. “But ... I can’t. I’m a mother, a schoolteacher. Mothers and schoolteachers don’t ... play in cum. They don’t make horny little puddles on the floor. They don’t ... suck cock.”

Dr Edison nodded. “And you won’t.”

“But I did.” And she had ... enjoyed it, she admitted to herself. Way too much, she had ... REALLY enjoyed it. She had ... thrilled ... when she made him grunt and lose control and unload into her mouth.

“And I’ll remove those memories when I remove the slut programming. But until then ...” he shrugged.

Her eyes, brimmed with tears, met his. “I have to live with the things I did?!” she accused. “I have to live with these things that ... that you programmed me to do ... for three months?!”

“Yes, well ... you can take comfort in the fact that you didn’t voluntarily do them. You were under the effects of the reprogramming when you slutted for me last time.” He nodded his head and put the sneezing-ferret smile back on his face again. “See? All better?”

Deborah didn’t reply. She just held her forearms over her stomach, rocking gently back and forth.

Edison sighed as he watched the slightly-rocking woman. People were like boogers—sticky, messy, and they didn’t want to come off your fingers. That’s why he’d gone into reprogramming people—it made them cleaner, simpler, easier to interact with and then be done with.

“Change me back,” she mumbled, still rocking.

Edison’s expression shifted to a ferret concentrating really hard on something. “Hmm? What?”

Deborah hugged her stomach tighter. “Just change me back.” She looked up at him. “Just leave me as a .. a slut.” She swallowed hard. “At least ... at least that way I won’t have to ... choke in humiliation like this. I can’t—I can’t even breathe.”

“Ehr, I’m afraid that’s completely out of the question, Mrs Bryce. Your family wants you back. You need to be—”

“Does Brian know?” Her arms still across her stomach, she leaned further over, looking like she was going to be sick. “Does Brian know about the ... ‘reprogramming’.” The slut reprogramming? And about the whoring she had done ... ?

“I believe he was offered the, uhm ... the option to keep you as a sex slave.” He shrugged, “It would have been much less expense and trouble for us to turn you over, still reprogrammed, to him. We offered him the new and improved you, with all the servile sluttiness we’ve topped you off with. But he apparently prefers the old, stale, non-slut version of you. Go figure.”

Another sob slipped out of her. Brian knew. He knew what she’d been turned into. The things that she’d ... done.

How?! How could she live with that?!

With her husband ... knowing ... that she had sucked another man off?! And ... played in his cum all over her breasts like a kid with slimy fingerpaints?!

He’d know ... she was nothing but a whore. Literally. How could she bear him looking at her? Looking at her, but knowing that underneath it all, she was nothing but a slutty little ... whore?

How could she ever deal with him adult-to-adult? He’d always be dealing with her ... adult-to-slut ...

And he’d be ... right!

Another sob bubbled out of her.

“Oh, come now, Mrs Bryce,” Dr Edison sighed impatiently. “Bear up.”

“But—but—”

Edison cleared his throat and used his firm voice, “Mrs Bryce, you’re going back to your family. And you’re going to hold together for the next three months until we can reprogram the whore out of you. And then you can go back to your old tidy little life and pretend none of this ever happened. Is that clear?”

“Yes ... yes, sir,” she mumbled.

He stood and patted her head. “There, see? We’ll get you back comfortably with your family, and in three months, we’ll make things all better. Everything’s going to be just fine ...”

Three waited anxiously around the kitchen table the next afternoon. Finally, the knock at the door jolted them like a gunshot.

Christopher was first to the door and opened it. “Mom!” he gushed, then eyed the men to each side of her. The one on the left he thought he could take; the one on the right he would just do his best with—

“Mom!” Heather gushed over his shoulder.

“Back, back, children, let them bring your mother in,” Brian asserted himself from the rear.

The man on the right read Christopher’s stance and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t. We’re returning your mother, kid. But you fuck this up, you all get turned into whores and sold.”

Christopher narrowed his eyes too. Then ... stepped back.

“Good move kid—we all want everything to go smoothly here,” Armand muttered as he stepped in, leading Deborah and Dr Edison.

“You BASTARD!” Heather slapped her hand across Armand’s cheek. “How could you DO those things to our MOTHER?!”

Deborah gasped, her eyes widening.

“Heather! DON’T!” Brian squealed, then tugged her back from the Armenian by the back of her blouse. “Don’t antagonize the nice man. We just want to get Deborah back and for things to get back to normal.”

“But, Daddy! He—”

“Heather, if things get any more stressful, Daddy is going to start farting again. I won’t be able to help it. And none of us want that.”

Deborah, breathing hard, distractedly reached for Dr Edison’s shirt sleeve, tugging on it a couple times, then focused enough to take grip of the arm and pull.

“What?!” he snapped.

Nearly panting, cheeks colored red, Deborah thrust her thumb towards the door, pulling on his arm with her other hand.

“Apparently,” Edison turned back to the family to explain sarcastically, “we have something to discuss.” Then he let himself get tugged back out the front door.

Armand stood uncomfortably with the anxious family that just wanted to receive their sluttified wife and mother back, and waited. “So,” he spoke finally into the sticky silence, “how ’bout this weather we’re having?”

“What?!” Edison asked, annoyed, on the front porch. See? This was the very reason he turned people into sex slaves, just so that they wouldn’t do things like—

“My CHILDREN?!” Deborah gasped, “My CHILDREN know?! My KIDS know that you turned me into a SEX SLAVE?!”

Edison pursed his lips and shook his head silently a couple moments, “Well, the whole neighborhood’s going to know if you get any shriller, won’t it?”

“My KIDS know?! That I’m a ... WHORE?!”

“Look, calm down. Breathe. You’re hyperventilating,” he awkwardly patted her shoulder. Sure, that would make things go better—if the family stepped out to find their kidnapped wife and mother lying passed out at his feet. “It’s not so bad.”

“Not so—?! Not so—?!” she gasped, “My KIDS know! My ... CHILDREN! That I’m—That I’m a—”

“Calm down, calm down. Breathe.” He held an index finger up to her to pause her, then turned and opened the door, and requested, “Ehr ... do you have any small lunch-size paper bags, or something similar?”

The family looked at him dumbfounded. Armand rolled his eyes and sighed.

“She’s, uh ... sort of hyperventilating out here. If you could ... get us a little bag, we could finish our discussion out here, her and I.”

Heather cringed a little from the allergic-ferret expression that grew on the doctor’s face as he attempted to smile, then she mumbled, “I’ll, uh ... I’ll get you one.” She disappeared and reappeared a few moments later.

“Thanks SO much,” Edison took the bag, held up an index finger for them to wait, then stepped back out and closed the door.

“Here,” he thrust the bag toward Deborah, “put this over your mouth and breathe.”

Deborah, panting, numbly did so.

“Breathe deeply, slowly,” he encouraged. Apparently saving him from idiots was not included as part of the 55% of his salary that God was demanding as protection money. It figured.

“How much ...” she breathed through the bag, “how much do they know?” Did they have any idea how EAGERLY she had ... sucked cock?!

“Breathe ... breathe ... slowly ... deeply ...” Edison encouraged. “They just know whatever your hubby told them.”

“Ohgod!” she pulled the bag from her mouth as her eyes widened, but Edison gestured for her to keep breathing in the bag.

“Breathe ... breathe ... it’s not so bad. They’re adults. What are they, college-age?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“So even if they know that you puddled the floor with slutty excitement while you sucked me off, what does it matter?”

“It matters to me!”

“Yeah, yeah, breathe ... breathe ... that’s good, Debbie ... breathe ... breathe ... are you doing better now?”

“No,” she muffled through the bag. Brian was one thing. But her CHILDREN knew! How could she EVER face her children again?!

“Well, you’re breathing better. And we need to get through this tonight, so ... come on.”

“No, I—CAN’T! OHGOD! My SON knows that I ... lubed up for a stranger’s cock! My DAUGHTER knows that I ... am nothing but a slutty little whore! They’ll—they’ll be able to SMELL me like a dog in heat from across the room. And—and—and they’ll KNOW what that smell IS! That I’m ... all EXCITED! Over—over—” she was starting to hyperventilate again.

He took her wrist, but she hung back. “Please! Please, I can’t—”

“Suzy! Heel!” he said sharply.

Deborah quieted then and ... let herself be pulled back though the front door.

“Yes,” Dr Edison sighed, “where were we?” He looked at the family and smiled, thinking the daughter was not unattractive. “Oh, yes, sex slaves,” he smiled.

This, of course, put the family immediately back on edge.

“Okay, it’s like this. The organization I work for accidentally nabbed the wrong woman—your wife and mother. She completed about 75% of the program to turn her into a sex slave.”

“Don’t,” Armand sensed the boy bunch again.

“You—you—were going to make her into a ... SEX SLAVE?!” Heather complained. Her mother would NEVER submit! And besides, things like this didn’t HAPPEN! Not in AMERICA!

Dr Edison sighed. There was no clean way to get through this, so he slogged on. “The training programs are complex and take time to develop. We are working on one now to ‘untrain’ your mother, but that is going to take some months.”

“But—we DO get her back now,” Brian nodded his head to encourage a “yes” answer. “We DO get Deborah back now, right?”

Dr Edison sighed again. This was so messy. “Yes, we are returning the subject to you now. We have created a quick veneer overlay to help her seem more normal to you and to adjust back to her life until we complete the entire reversal process.”

“Whew!” Brian.

“What do you mean ... ‘veneer’?” Christopher asked.

“We’ve programmed in a number of hausfrau responses to typical situations. BUT—we have NOT yet removed the slut responses we put into place earlier.”

“She is NOT a SLUT!” Heather corrected the arrogant bastard! How could they DO this to her MOM?!

“Technically, no, you are wrong, young lady. She is about 75% slut. What you all want to do, in order to protect the veneer of normalcy we’ve coated her in, is to avoid typical situations that might evoke a slut response.”

“What ... situations ... would those be?” Christopher asked suspiciously.

“Well ... avoid nudity as much as you can. Keep her away from porn, or anything titillating,” he started listing some off the top of his head. “Keep her away from sexy clothes—silks and laces and such. Definitely avoid any competitive situations with other sluts. The subject is programmed to compete with other sluts in a harem, and to do whatever she needs to in order to win her master’s attention.”

“She doesn’t HAVE a master, you ASSHOLE!” Heather couldn’t stand him talking about her mother this way.

“Very, ehr ... insightful, young lady.” God, Dr Edison hated kids—young adults in this case, but still. “She doesn’t. But she’s programmed for situations where she does. And she will try her best to win the sexual favor of whoever she thinks her ‘daddy’ is. You don’t want to set off a competition, or the whole veneer may crumble.”

“Okay, no sex,” Brian spread his hands, wanting to make sure he had this, “But she can still clean, right? And cook?”

The other four looked at him; Deborah’s cheeks were flushed red, and she looked like she wanted to crawl away.

“What? I’m just making sure I understand this.”

“Yes, Mr Bryce,” Dr Edison sighed, “the subject can still cook and clean, though you may want to hold off having her wait on you hand and foot. She might start thinking of you as her ‘daddy’ then, with ... the already described consequences.”

“Crumbling veneer, total descent into her ‘slut’ programming?” Christopher wanted to confirm.

“Christopher! She is NOT a SLUT!” Geez, couldn’t everybody just stop calling her mother that?!

“Yes. I think you understand the consequences. You need to protect the veneer for three months, at which time we will have completed the ‘unprogramming’ programming course to removed her slut responses altogether. Then, you can do anything you want to. Until then, if you crumble her hausfrau veneer, you will simply have a sex slave on your hands until we complete the unprogramming course.”

Heather sighed and shifted her weight so that these people would know that she was UPSET by all this. Her mother WAS NOT and WOULD NOT EVER BE—“You people—WHAT?! You manufacture SEX SLAVES?”

Dr Edison pushed his glasses back up his nose. “Yes, ma’am. Exactly. The highest quality.”

“This is ... HORRENDOUS! How can—how can people like you EXIST?! You need to be put out of business! And JAILED! FOREVER! We SHOULD just call the FBI about you so that they can—”

“Honey! HONEY!” Brian was shaking her elbow. “Let’s not upset the nice men! They ARE returning Deborah to us!”

“But, Daddy! They ... tried to make her into a SEX SLAVE! We have a MORAL OBLIGATION to turn them—”

“Miss?” Armand’s voice was not loud, but his demeanor shushed her instantly. “You want to stay on our good side until your mother’s programming is completely removed.”

“But—” she fidgeted. “That—We—” Damn it.

But was he bluffing? Maybe her mother could beat this damned “training”. Heather’s mother was a STRONG WOMAN! She had a LOT of willpower! MAYBE ... they really DIDN’T need to listen to these criminals! MAYBE—

“Also, you want to stay on our good side afterwards,” Armand pointed out. “If any of you DO cause us trouble afterwards, I guarantee you: even if our whole organization is taken down by the FBI and we are all imprisoned, you four WILL be turned into whores and sold to help cover our legal costs. If it is the last thing we do, that will be your fate. Remember that.”

He looked the young lady directly in her eyes, “Understand me? No father, no mother, just you alone with your master bending you over while you whimper and beg him to fuck you senseless.”

He stepped aggressively close in to Heather. “And, no, witness protection WON’T help you,” he read her mind. Then, reading the posture of the boy, he held an index finger up to the side at him. “Don’t,” he told him, then stepped back from the daughter, point made to his satisfaction.

“Bastards!” she grumbled quietly.

“But that doesn’t need to happen!” Brian clapped his hands together with desperate perkiness, “Because ... WE WON’T BE DOING ANYTHING TO CAUSE YOU GUYS TROUBLE! You’ve returned our Deborah to us, and we are SOOOO grateful for that! And after you remove her slut programming permanently, we will be glad to CALL YOU FRIEND.”

God save me from civilians, Armand thought. Outwardly, he turned to Stanley. “Dr Edison, is there anything else the family needs to know?”

“Two things. It IS possible that the hausfrau programming COULD interact with the slut programming in ... unpredictable ... ways. If this—”

“Uh, like what?” Christopher asked.

“You know,” Edison waved his hands, “just in case you ... find her cooking dinner in the kitchen wearing nothing but high heels. Or anything like that. Not that she’ll do anything like that, of course, but—just in case she does. If you need to get her to listen to what you’re saying, you might try the phrase, ‘Heel, Suzie’.”

“But,” Heather frowned, “her name is Deborah.”

“Yes, well ... we mistook her for a Susan. And if Susan’s husband needed her to heel, he’d tell her, ‘Heel Suzie’. And some of that programming still lingers in Debbie, so—”

“She’s NOT a DOG!” God, Heather wished these men would stop talking about her mother like this.

“Of course not,” Edison sighed, “I’m just trying to give you a few hints on the care and feeding of—”

“She’s NOT a DOG!”

Edison visibly started to close up, “Yes, well—”

“Let him talk,” Christopher stepped in before they lost Edison—the only source of information about what had been done to their mother—to a pout. “I’m sorry, doctor. If she acts oddly, we should use that phrase to get through to her?”

Deborah’s cheeks flushed anew as she continued to study the ceiling, intently. Heather sighed and tapped her foot, not wanting to even deal with these horrible horrible men. But Edison did stop short of shutting off entirely in indignation, “Yes. It’s an emergency phrase that may—MAY—work for you. But her programming is unpredictable right now. These training sessions take months to develop—years, even—and I had two days to—”

“Of course, doctor, and we appreciate everything you’ve done. Are there any other hints you can give us about her ... ‘care and feeding’.”

“Yes, well, the other thing is, if the phrase fails, call this number,” he handed Mr Bryce a business card. “They will relay the message, and we will do what we can.”

Deborah sniffed and looked up at the ceiling, her cheeks searing that they were openly discussing these things right in front of her own children. That ... her own children were discussing how to keep her from whoring, and what to do with her if she did get out of hand, slut-wise.

“Thank you. And thank you SO MUCH for returning her! We are SO GRATEFUL that you halted the en-slut-ment process as soon as you realized, and that we’re going to get our sweet little homemaker back! THANK YOU!”

Heather rolled her eyes at Daddy’s FAWNING over these two horrible horrible men. How COULD he let them GET AWAY with this?!

Armand and Dr Edison stepped back out of the house, and the family gathered around their returned wife and mother.

Armand and Dr Edison had left, leaving Deborah back with her family. For several moments, the four of them stood there, no one sure quite what to say.

Finally, Heather moved in for a hug and gushed, “Welcome back, Mom!” Deborah hugged her back.

“Welcome back, honey!” Brian replaced Heather when she stepped back. “It is SO GOOD to have you home!".

“It’s—it’s good to be back, Brian,” she hugged him back.

“Mom,” Christopher clapped his hands and smiled at her but did not hug her, “You’re—are you okay and everything?”

“I’m—I’m good,” she nodded.

“We are SO GLAD to have you back, Mom!” Heather gushed more. “Come on! Come inside, and let’s get you off your feet. It had to be HORRIBLE with those TERRIBLE men!”

Deborah followed them in to the kitchen and sat with Brian and Christopher at the kitchen table while Heather fixed her some hot chocolate.

“It’s so good to have you home, Mom!” Christopher nodded, and Deborah smiled and nodded with him.

“We’re so glad to have you back, honey,” Brian told her, “The house has just gone to pieces while you’ve been gone.” Deborah nodded back and said they would need to get it straightened up.

“Here, Mom!” Heather beamed as she brought the cup of hot chocolate over to her. “Welcome back!”

“Thanks, honey,” Deborah smiled at her and took a sip. Everyone was looking at her when she finished. “Mmm,” she smiled, “good.” Heather beamed a little brighter then, and the two men broke out in grins.

And Deborah continued to feel ... distant. They were a dear dear family, but it was almost more like they were the family of someone else—of Deborah the schoolteacher, not of this whore corsetted up now in a housewife’s costume.

But here they all were.

They had all lapsed back into staring at her, and Deborah smiled and nodded again, “Mmm,” as she took another sip.

“Don’t worry, Mom, we’ll BEAT those men! We’ll beat them and their damned ‘programming’,” Heather informed her.

“We know you’ve been through a lot, Mom, but everything’s okay now,” Christopher told her, “It’s all going to be okay.”

“It’s so good to have you back, honey,” Brian nodded.

Deborah finished her hot chocolate amidst more welcome-homes, then sighed, “If you guys don’t mind, I’m kind of tired.” What with all the retraining as a hausfrau so that her whore wouldn’t leak out. “I’m going to—”

“Oh, you go right ahead, Mom,” Christopher nodded understandingly.

“Don’t you worry about cleaning up the dishes—or the house—until tomorrow, sweetheart,” Brian allowed her.

“I want to talk to you later, Mom,” Heather told her, “I think we can BEAT this! With a little willpower, you can FIGHT this!”

Deborah nodded to them all and backed away toward the bedroom. There, feeling distant even from her own self, she changed into her usual nightgown and got into bed. She heard Brian and the kids puttering around out in the kitchen for another half hour, then Brian joined her in bed.

“Don’t you worry at all, Deborah. We’ll do everything we can to protect this veneer of yours,” he patted her ass through the blanket, then stiffened. “I, uh—I mean ... uh, sorry. I guess I shouldn’t touch you there. No touching spots that might ... set you off.” Nothing that might trigger whoring. He laid his hand on her shoulder instead. “We’ll get through this.” Then he crawled in next to her, careful not to brush against any stimulatable parts.

Deborah sighed.