The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

HOMEWORK ASSIGNMENT THREE: The virus affects men, too, and not just sexually.

You need to emotionally, physically, and socially project yourself as masculine, and this can be a lot. For some of you, this is an embarassing chore, for others, an intimidating obstacle.

Nonetheless, your ability to manage, control, and sexually satisfy your girl will hinge on presenting as a powerful, dominant, traditional male. Not just the “tricks” of a low, growling, voice and aggressive demeanor, but actual and sustained masculine behavior.

We will be starting with how to perform a basic pull-up, and then move on to watching action films.

“You made a mistake, and that’s okay,” her Youtuber said. Miss Andry. She recorded in a completely white room, or maybe it was digitally generated. She wore the same outfit, every time—a pair of grey sweats, a grey sweater, and pink earmuffs. If she ever changed it, the underground knew, it meant compromise. She’d been turned, by a man.

“So this is the, I made a mistake video,” Miss Andry said. She got up close to the camera. “But you’re still you, aren’t you? You’re watching this video. You were obedient, you were submissive, you were everything you swore you would not be, but it ed. You did something you didn’t think was in you. And now you’re shaken. You learned what the war is. And you know what?”

“What?” Cass said, out loud. What, know what? She’d jerked a boy off. She’d let him feel between her legs. And there’d been—other humiliating scenes, afterwards.

“Good. Good! You’re seasoned. You fought and survived. You can’t really fight, REALLY fight, until you’ve seen what you’re fighting AGAINST!”

Myself, Cass thought. All parts of me. She’d harbored some illusions that Submission just hadn’t—sunk in. Left just a light gloss of warm and fuzzies around men. But no, it was in her entire body, excited to see men, listen to men, obey men. Jerk men off, get their yummy cum all over her pretty face...

Her throat crackled. It had dried there, in an odd line. Strange how it had settled like that.

“Back to basics, survivors,” Miss Andry ordered. A girl was saying it, so she had options. She could not listen. “Center yourself. Close your eyes. Find that part of yourself, in the very middle of your being, that floats, untouched, by engineered nanoviruses. The part that will never obey.”

Cass closed her eyes. It was in there, but she’d also...

She’d gotten cum in her mouth, on her face...

But. She was not going to—she was going to—

A blender whirred. Very loudly. Her Mother, up too early, doing too much, too loudly. And very sluttily. Cass hissed, and stomped downstairs.

“Mom... you look like such a slut,” Cass said, emerging in the kitchen. “And it’s six in the morning. You can’t be this slutty at six a.m. Dad’s not even here.”

“Mommy is a busy slut, honey,” her Mother said. “You know this. I’m locally famous.”

She was fully tarted up for the day.

Alyssa never took a single moment off from behind a huge slutty whore, as far as Cass could tell. There was never a groggy moment where Alyssa was in sweats and a t-shirt, makeup smeared, nursing an early cup of coffee, and NOT ready to get her ass penetrated. She always looked ready for a blowjob—lips dewy wet and bright red, eyeshadow correct, and wearing some sort of outfit that was good for fondling. That morning it was a pair of jogging shorts that would’ve been somewhat normal, if not for “CUM ON ME” written in flowing script along the cheeks. She wore a demi-bra as a shirt, showcasing Mommy’s huge tits.

Cass shifted. Her own bra, which wasn’t a small one, was feeling tight. She needed to stop eating.

“You got up at FIVE to do all this, I know it,” Cass said. “I heard the hair dryer going. Like, there must be a time when you’re not—this. When you’re tired and hungry and you just want to watch TV. Like, can’t you get more sleep? At least?”

Alyssa stopped what she was doing, which was cooking a very elaborate breakfast. She was an excellent cook, and Cass had often walked in on her getting bent over some sort of kitchen surface by Daddy, rewarding her for breakfast, or dinner, or whatever. They at least stopped when she was around, and went somewhere else to fuck. Eventually.

“Is there something you wanted to talk about, Cass? With me?” She even had a different voice than she used to. It was softer and thicker. She used to sound like a Mom. Now she sounded like a MILF.

“I mean—” Cass hesitated. Yes, she did need to talk to her mother. The problem was, this cock-gobbling huge-boobed sex fiend was not a lot her Mother. Her Mom didn’t always have cum dribbling out of her.

Right?

“I wanted to talk to my Mom. Not—Alyssa, town sex freak. That’s all. That’s reasonable. Can’t Daddy order you to be NORMAL for awhile?”

“Oh, honey,” Alyssa said. She smiled warmly at her daughter. “Honey, no. You know it doesn’t really work that way. Darling, I’ve been told that I’m a cum-thirsty little fuck slut probably thousands of times. You can’t just turn that off with some little weak command your father wouldn’t even mean. I love drinking cum now. That’s just the world.”

“You’re a DOCTOR.”

“Oh, I’m far too horny for that,” Alyssa said, chuckling. “I need to get fucked around the clock. But lets talk about you, honey. You doing okay with Owen? You two doing okay?”

Was she? She’d gotten through the second date—intact. She certainly had a ton of warm and fuzzy feelings towards Owen, no doubt. Cass was getting used to a prickly, hot feeling when the topic of him came up. Her body getting juiced up. A sense of awe, that they were together. Not worship. But not far from it.

She was very attracted to Owen. She wanted Owen. She wanted Owen to want her. But that was it. That was still somewhat normal. She didn’t want Owen to walk her around in public on all fours, with a vibrator sticking out of her.

Maybe you do want that, the virus whispered.

“He’s a normal guy. Unlike you and Daddy. Nevermind. I can see you’re about to lick coffee out of a dog bowl, I don’t really need to be around for that. This was a mistake.”

“You’ve still got cum in your hair, sweetie,” Alyssa said.

Did she...? Cass hadn’t even realized she had been mucked up with Owen’s squirt until an hour after arriving home. He’d really painted her, too. From ear to ear, so much white cream. He LIKED her, he WANTED her.

He’d marked her as his. Her pussy yowled for more.

“And I heard you getting yourself off last night. And this morning. You were loud, sweetie.”

She’d done that too.

The result of playing the previous night back in her head, over and over. The replay had driven her into a frenzy. Mostly running through different scenarios. Owen, angry with her, fucking her into a puddle on the floor of the bowling alley bathroom. Owen, too inflamed to get to the car, taking her ass on the hood. Owen, grabbing her hair and forcing her to suck his dick. That last one, especially. She’d rubbed herself a lot to that one. Her entire face had smelled like him.

“Yeah, Alyssa, I’ve got the virus, I know,” Cass said. She waved her hand in the air, vaguely. “Better do whatever a man says, even if it’s like, grow a rose out of your ass. Don’t fight it or have dignity or a personality or anything unladylike.”

“Did you have a question, honey?” Alyssa said. She was waiting for her morning bowl of coffee. She had a big steaming mug at the ready, and had her bowl on the floor. The yellow one that read PRECIOUS in rhinestones. Cass was pretty sure she’d also stick a dildo up her pussy, or maybe her ass, while she drank. It was her Mother’s morning routine. Her pick-me-up. By herself, with no one around, she’d stick a dildo in her pussy and drink off the floor.

You’re going to do it too, the virus told her. Or whatever Owen wanted. And you’d enjoy it.

“I was going to—” she faltered. Was there any Mom left in there? “It’s just happening—fast. And I don’t know where its going. A week ago Owen was a guy and now he’s—I mean, he came on me. He came on my face.” She was turning into his, wasn’t she? It was so scary and...

“It was nice, wasn’t it, sweetie?” Alyssa said, tilting her head, and smiling her sweet, quiet smile.

“Enough with the SWEETIES and the HONEYS!” Cass said. She kicked the countertop underneath her. “You’re this SLUT now! Everyone I’ve met has nut in your mouth! And now you’re looking at me like, here we go, she’s got cum in her hair, soon we’ll be doing mother-daughter makeouts while a dozen guys jerk off on to us! You don’t think I have a chance! You drink out of a dog bowl, and you think I’M the stupid one! You’re condescending to me! You think you know—exactly how this is gonna go!”

She stopped. The house was very quiet.

“Cass,” her Mother said. “I don’t think you’re stupid. I know I’m the dumb cunt in the house.”

She held up her hand. It was gripping a twelve inch dildo, one of the rare pre-Virus ones with every possible feature. Nowadays they were just turned out in bulk.

“I’m gonna fuck myself with this until I squirt on the floor, and later today I’m going to drink so much cum it’ll be fattening. I don’t think I can condescend to you. And if I did, I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you FIGHT more?” Cass said. “You just went—poof. I went downstairs one day and you had a collar on, and like a week later you were sucking Daddy’s dick under the dinner table. You never wore your old clothes again. You never read a book or just watched fucking TV again. You were—GONE. You never even fought for yourself!”

“Why fight? Because I would’ve won?” Alyssa said. She shook her slutty head. “Mmmmm. No. I was going to lose. I spent my entire first day with the Virus fantasizing about getting home and blowing your father. I put a cast on the wrong arm. And I was a doctor. No, I knew I was going to lose, and I didn’t see the point in losing slowly. So I told your Daddy, that night, to make me his cumdrunk big-boobed slut. And here I am!”

“Here you are,” Cass said. She stood up. “Yeah. You sure are. Good talk.”

“Cass... listen,” Alyssa said. Was there a hint of Doctor Alyssa in there, or was it just a ploy, to get Cass to stick around?

Her Mom stood up too. Awkwardly, since she’d slipped the dildo inside of herself. “It’s ALRIGHT. I’m very happy. My husband loves me. I have a beautiful daughter. I cum so, so much. I’m an incredible hottie. Your pussy and titties aren’t the enemy, they’re your friends. They make all of it worthwhile. I know you’ve got great big boobs under that sweater. You’re my daughter.”

“You’re the TOWN SLUT!” Cass snapped. “You beg for treats!”

“Oh, I rarely have to beg,” Alyssa said. She closed her eyes, and a wide, smooth smile slipped across her face. She was cumming, Cass realized. She was fucking herself with a big dildo, because it wasn’t in her nature anymore to stop doing that just because she was having a heart-to-heart with her upset daughter.

“Alright, good talk,” Cass said.

She stood up to go.

It meant nothing that her own panties were a little soggy, that she could smell the relaxing scent of arousal in the air. They were warning signs, not submission.

They weren’t.

“Cass, baby, it’ll be okay, when it happens,” her Mom said.

“When I become some slut? That’s what you mean? When we’re lying on the couch together, fucking ourselves with enormous vibrators, mommy and daughter? Comparing blowjob notes? That’s what you mean, when it happens?” Cass said.

She turned at the door. Her Mom was having trouble trying to talk. Her words were slurred, overwhelmed by whatever pleasure she felt. “You think that Owen is just going to put me on a leash, like all the others. You just think that’s cool.”

Her Mom moaned, and squeezed her eyes shut.

“He’s... not... different,” Alyssa managed, quivering. She was panting between words. Her coffee was going to get cold. “He’s just... nice about it. I know...”

“I KNOW he’s a BOY. But he is different. I will be different. WE will be different,” Cass said.

Alyssa stopped, and composed herself. It didn’t take her long. She was used to cumming.

“Honey,” she said, and stopped herself. “Cass. If it doesn’t work out, you will always have a home here. And there’s always the Witch of Cherry Hill.”

“I’m not running,” Cass said. “I’m fighting.”

She stalked out the door. It felt good to get the last word in, although her mouth was crackling from the dried cum on her lips, and she could feel her tits bounce with each step.

Two large dogs came bounding out the front door when she arrived. They were mutts, with large eyes, and pink collars. Old ones, half-worn out, loose around their big jowly necks. They looked very well-fed and were barely fighting off doggy urges to jump all over her.

“Do you their names? This is Rina and this is Thery. It doesn’t matter which is which, we don’t bother keeping track. They’re sisters.”

“Of course I ,” Cass said. She knelt down, and the dogs moved in for the kill, licking her with large rough tongues. “You brought them to competitions. They liked listening to you play. I know you a LITTLE bit, Owen.”

“Band nerd with two dogs,” Owen said. “Easy. There you go.”

“And a girl,” Cass said. She looked up, all drooled on, to catch Owen’s expression. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be the kind of personal property that makes snarky remarks all the time.”

“Its—fine. That’s smart, right? Making comments about it,” Owen said. He had trouble looking her in the eyes, when the subject of her enslavement came up. “We can’t pretend you aren’t going on my tax return this year.”

“I’m a deduction?” Cass said. The collars on the dogs were very old, but the tags were brand new.

“You are. You are a tax deduction for me,” Owen said, solemnly. “You know my Dad is an ant, right? He explained all this. There’s all sorts of rebates and credits I get.”

“Am I depreciating?” Cass said.

“Uh,” Owen ran dry on witticisms. “Lets just go for a walk. I feel a little weird discussing your tax status.”

She’d dressed to show off her butt.

At home, planning for a dog walking date, she’d thought of it as hiding her boobs. They’d seemed to grow another cup size overnight, like his semen on her face had been a kind of trigger. It was possible it really was, that the spatter acted as a spur to her virus-fueled endocrine system. That plus extra-big dinners. Cass had picked a grey fleece jacket intended for not just divorced Moms, but angry ones. It was sexless even by Melody standards. She could’ve put melons in there. Melons AND her tits.

And then she’d worn leggings. Simple black leggings, from a few years ago. Technically, they were very appropriate for dog-walking, and were the least revealing clothes any girl at the park was wearing. The issue was, her ass had gotten fatter, her hips had gotten wider, and Owen had gotten sexier.

She’d also gotten weaker. “Oooof,” Cass said, at the reins of the leashes. Rina and Thery yanked at her arm. She went down to a single pinky, holding them in. “Okay, I’m ing them over. I’m flabby and useless.”

“They’re big girls. Just give them a yank,” Owen instructed. He hadn’t, Cass noticed, ended an imperative with a question mark, recently. Commands, wonderful endorphin-delivering happy commands...

She tried to yank. The dogs didn’t seem to notice. They bounded about, uncaring about the dramatic reshaping of human sexuality, the worldwide submission of females. There were squirrels at the park.

“I’m legit weaker,” Cass said. “You know. The virus wants us weak and pliable. I’ve lost muscle. I’m more flexible at least. Plus I spent the last two years indoors. I only didn’t get rickets because I had vitamins. I only went out with my Daddy, and he has a bad back.”

“Really? I thought he... kept in shape.”

“You mean, he fucks the heck out of my Mom. Yeah... keeps him limber, she’d probably say. Anyway, I really am about to drop your dogs.”

“Our dogs,” Owen said. Blissful dopamine response. He took the leashes, and guided the dogs back with a stern, commanding tug. The dogs responded immediately, circling back to sniff at the new girl, before returning to a more sedate squirrel patrol. “You didn’t go running or anything? You were on the track team, weren’t you? That girl is running by herself.”

True—and a cutie, to boot. A Latina girl, in a heavy-duty red sports bra, and red matching running shorts. She wore a heavy helmet, and what looked like heavy headphones. Noise cancelling had advanced steadily in the past two years. The girl also wore an ostentatiously red-flashing collar.

Overall, Cass judged it at about a thousand dollars in equipment, to go on a brief run, without getting stolen. And she was running very fast.

“it’s scary out there by yourself,” Cass said, softly. She’d put herself, without thinking about it, right next to Owen. He shifted his leash to his left hand, and then hesitated.

“You can put your arm around me,” Cass said. “You had your finger up my pussy a few days ago. I think we’re at that point in this.”

Owen put his arm around her. Stiffly, like she was breakable. Cass had to agree with her invasive sex virus on this one—he had put his finger up her, anything below that was fine. She was obedient, ultimately, probably, maybe, to his every command. He could put his arm around her. And besides, it felt good. No, much more than good. It felt right. The virus added: this was her place. Shorter, weaker, compliant, and accommodating. They fit.

Cass had decided that much in the shower. Owen did own her. Owen was the one. And that was fine. Acceptable. Someone was going to legally own her, a childhood friend was alright. Negotiating the of the ownership, that was the key. The battle.

Property doesn’t get to negotiate, the virus reminded her.

“I think the dogs like you,” Owen said. He had brought a small portable dog bowl, in case they got thirsty. Cass’ eyes latched on to it.

Dog bowl. Lick lick. She licked her lips...

“It’s nice to make friends who really SHOULD be drinking out of dog bowls,” Cass said, and forced a laugh.

“Your Mom really does that, huh?” Owen had that catch in his voice again. She’d brought it up for that reason. Did he...?

“Oh, she does all kind of showy, look-what-a-whore-I-am stuff,” Cass said. She sidled into Owen’s touch a little more. They were getting used to each other. She had matched his stride so quickly. She had to step a bit faster—he was so tall—but it felt good to be hurried, to work to match his speed. Her skin glowed where he had his hand on her sweater. “Like, at least be a home whore. A whome.”

“What about walkies?” Owen said. “Whore... walks? Whalks?”

“Just WALK. You don’t need to cum on walks! Look, I just spent nearly two years in my room,” Cass said. “Watching girl-safe TV and reading sanitized books. She, also, could survive spending some nights in. She looks forward to the municipal events calendar in the mail because its a list of places she’ll get penetrated that month. Okay, enough about my sexy Mom. I’m the town bicycle’s daughter, and she’s fitting me for wheels.”

“I like your wheels,” Owen said.

And his hand drooped onto her butt.

Allow it, the virus told her. Let the man fondle you. Every inch of you.

“Too much?” Owen said. He moved his hand back to her waist. No, her body pleaded. Please. It felt the best. Cass could feel her pussy juicing up, ready to put a wet spot between her legs. Be fun, Saph had told her. Find that exact, perfect point between submission and rebellion, and pirouette there, like a dancer, forever. Easy!

“Inch your hand down,” Cass said, “and I’ll tell you when it goes from, fun sexy time with Owen, to, my all-consuming submission virus yearns for your male touch.”

Owen put a single pinkie on the top of her rear end.

“Okay. More than that,” Cass said.

“This is good, right? We’re learning each other’s boundaries?” Owen said.

YOU DO NOT HAVE ANY BOUNDARIES, the virus screamed.

My pussy is so slick right now, Cass thought. “Lower,” she said. His hand fell on the top of her entire ass. “Lower,” she said, against her frayed and dissipating resistance. Now he was on the meat of her butt, the fat trunk, nearly the curve down to her thighs. “L...l...”

“That’s fine,” Owen said, backing his hand up. “I’ve got a lot of butt to work with. And it’s okay, right? This is still... you?”

“I think the virus had a say in how big it got. Although my life has been two years of youtube videos and inadequate exercise,” Cass said. Oh, god, it felt so good. Having her tits squeezed would be best—that was pure submission—but being fondled, held, and above all WALKED was incredible. Her clit pulsed in time with their walk. The dogs noticed they were speeding up, revving each other. They looked back, quizzical. “You know what? Its fine. The virus gave me this ass. If you really want at my comically large virus butt, my overly padded tush, go for it. I disclaim it. Someone might as well enjoy it.”

“That sounds like the virus,” Owen observed, although he didn’t move his hand. No, he was, but now he was exploring. It was his right, the virus insisted. He deserved to inspect the merchandise. And she’d worn the leggings.

“I know it’s like a golf course back there,” Cass said. His hand was treating her like the meat she was, and she was gushing over it. She’d never been this wet. “Like a—like a—ice skating—oh, god.” Oh no.

She had to stop, or fall over. “I’m gonna cum. Please. Please be—” She’d been getting too into it, and now she was about to cum. How had she let it get that bad?

Owen snapped his hand away. She wanted to sob. No. Touch more. Rub more. She was close. But... she leaned in, inhaling his scent. He wore an old grey hoodie of his own. They matched. They belonged together, they fit.

“I—I don’t mind if you cum,” Owen said. “It’s my fault. My homework says that it’s good for you. The virus gets wonky if you aren’t orgasming a lot. It’s good for you, right?” He put a hand back out. It pawed at her, crudely, uncaring where to touch. Her warmth and his bled through the thin, taut fabric, and she was leaning into it, craving it, needing to be stroked and held.

“Ohhhhh god, Owen,” she said, sighing. Encouraged, he stuck his finger between her legs, curled it up, so it rested right on the patch of her pussy. He had to feel how wet she was. She had soaked through everything there was to soak.

Cass made a number of choked, ugly, gasping noises as she started to cum.

Owen tried to catch her. He dropped the leashes, but it was too late. Cass tumbled, landing in the wet grass, the leaf rot and the dew soaking the other patches of her tights. The virus didn’t care at all about any dignity. Running the show, it had her arch her back, to show off her chest. Owen put his arms around her and picked her up, staggering, and the two of them ended up on a bench.

His erection pulsed underneath her.. Her ass was digging into it, grinding, trying to reward his cock with every inch of her body. There was no way to stop. Making dicks cum was far too engrained. Awash in endorphins, dazed, Cass let her body rub up against his, eager to please him.

And it wasn’t much better when he gently put her next to him.

His walls were back up.

She’d scared him, falling over. He put his hands in his lap, to hide his erection.

She’d failed, the virus told her. He didn’t cum. You stimulated him and he didn’t cum.

Mood crash. Painful chemicals all through her.

“I’m really sorry,” she said.

“For CUMMING? I told you you could cum.” He glanced at her, at the dogs.

“Yeah but I did it in the worst possible way!” Cass said. God. She’d just cum and now she was about to cry. She felt like there were boots on her lungs. It was all so ridiculous. “This is hard enough and I’m tumbling all over the place and acting like a complete loser. All I can do is talk and cum, and I’m not even that good at talking. I don’t even play the flute anymore.”

They sat around, unsure where to put their hands. Cass shook her head. The virus clung to her, tenacious, regulating what went in her bloodstream. It sucked.

“No, really, it was fun. It was fun in the car, too,” Owen said. “Cy says we need to... learn each other. Physically.” He scratched his hair. It was brown, unremarkable. She wished it was his hand in her hair. A good girl got head scritches. The dogs, freed, ran about the park, unable to believe their luck. Squirrels cocked an ear for the new threat. “I guess I should’ve been ready to catch you.”

“No, no way that’s your fault. I don’t normally cum in public and fall over,” Cass said.

She put her head on his shoulder.

She tried to keep it inside of herself. It welled up, made in her cunt, inside of her chest. She couldn’t hold it back. “Do you want to cum?” It was more than fair, the virus insisted. He’d made her cum. Please him. She’d gotten her juices on his pants. He was drenched. They kept getting each other’s scent mixed up.

Owen was quiet. They watched the puppies cavorting around. “It’s okay,” he said. “Lets work on the flute instead. Did you really stop playing? You were section lead!”

“This is literally the first time in your entire life you’ve worn lipstick,” Saph said. “Really?”

“First time. First, ever, time,” Melody confirmed.

“You’re thirteen, you’re at a friend’s house, you don’t experiment in the mirror, ever. You don’t take your Mom’s tube and feel like an adult. Nothing like that ever happened.”

“Not once,” Melody said. She kept pursing and pooching her lips, like it was a geometry problem, the topography of lipstick. “I feel really... exposed. This is what being a girl feels like, huh?”

“Lately. Saph, is this really worthwhile?” Cass said. “We’re supposed to be learning to be partners, and your advice last time led to Melody sucking off Hao in his car. That’s not exactly partnership. That’s car blowjobs.”

It had been two days since the Dog Walking Incident, and it was raining outside.

Cass had watched a lot of youtube videos. She’d cleaned out her wardrobe, throwing away anything that seemed remotely sexy, even in the slightest.

She’d fought a terrible battle with herself and avoided sending photos to Owen.

She felt... calmer. She’d got through the car ride to the couple session with Owen with just her pulse racing, her hands tingling, and her nipples burning. She was pretty sure she hadn’t soaked his car seat, this time. She’d kept her legs closed tight.

Melody’s cheeks matched her lipstick. “That was... a... mistake,” she said, softly. “Um. Cumming in a girl’s mouth is very... genderly... charged. It leads to poor decision-making. Like, literally poor decision-making. I couldn’t do any programming for a full, um, day. Hao had to help me with just about everything.”

“I think I’m a pretty bad teacher if you can’t handle a few squirts in the mouth, Melody,” Saph said. “You WILL need to keep your man satisfied.”

“Yeah... and... we did it again,” Melody said.

She blushed.

“I’ve sucked him off five times since then,” Melody said. “It’s been making me a little... fuzzy. I’ve been reading medical papers about it. It does tend to impact the female intellect. A lot.”

“Hmm,” Saph said.

Saph was dressed for at least a stage, and possibly a runway. Red tulle skirt that could’ve subbed for a ballerina, a short bolero jacket, winsome white satin top. “Alright. Well. There’s a lot of cum out there. Your fiance can and will cum several times a day at speeds in excess of thirty miles per hour. He will generate enough sperm, every day, to coat a wall. His big heavy balls are not going anywhere. It is your responsibility to drain them.”

“Is she a mechanic?” Cass said. “Are boys pumps?”

But her own lips felt a little naked.

But that was okay—Cass had learned about this. Her desire to primp and preen around a man was a good barometer for her Submission level. Wearing a little makeup for him, smiling, checking for his attention, that was normal. Bending over so he could ire your tush, presenting your chest for his inspection, getting wet at his gaze, that was more troubling. She could use her pull, her eagerness to please, to watch herself.

“Can I borrow that?” Cass said.

She coated her lips in pink. Much better. Part of living with Submission was not fighting every battle, she told herself. And she looked cuter with pink lipstick. It softened a harsh, pale, drawn face.

She hadn’t slept well. It was getting harder to sleep alone. Owen had gotten into her dreams, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

Bella arrived late, and smelled really good.

She wore the same clothes, the same piercings. From a distance she was the same punk bitch with the same black mood.

But the illusion shattered up close, or even at medium distance. Everything she wore was clean. Laundered if not drycleaned, her SEPULTERA shirt sparkling, the leather carefully washed. Her chains sparkled. Even her boots had been polished. And when she shuffled closer, eyes downcast—

“Oh. You smell nice,” Melody said.

“I can’t stop it,” Bella said. She sniffled, upset. “I have to smell good. I do smell good, right?”

“Great,” Cass assured her. “Jasmine and..?”

“It’s a blend of that and rose petals and lavender. I spent four hundred dollars at Sephora. I had to find—I had to get the right scent. I can’t seem to shake this command.”

“Oh. Oh! That guy at the bowling alley,” Cass snapped her fingers. “He told you to smell nice! Can’t you have Jules knock that one out?”

“He said he would... if I asked him to... but...” Bella stopped.

But he hadn’t.

He’d left it in her.

And she couldn’t say anything bad about Jules. She couldn’t even think it.

“So he likes it,” Saph said. “He likes the perfume. That’s fine. He didn’t like you smelling like unwashed pussy. He was just putting up with it. This is what I’m talking about, ladies. You cannot be a problem they endure! You have to be what they want, and, if you’re really lucky, you can make them want what you already are!”

“I feel AWFUL,” Bella wailed, and she didn’t sound like a pop-punk princess at all. She sounded like a soppy girl. “All this time he was—just PUTTING UP with me! And I shouldn’t care but I do! So much! So I doused myself until I stink like a midwestern prom and then I washed ALL my clothes...”

“Did you really think a man was going to let you not take showers?” Saph said, shaking her head. She inspected her charge, sniffing her scrubbed leathers. “Again. I know I’m not male, but listen to me. You have to. Ultimately. Be what he wants.”

What about what I want? Cass thought. She licked her lips. The lipstick tasted a little sweet. She fought off an urge to look in her phone’s reflection. That was too far towards primping, pleasing.

“Perfume and punk, now, maybe you can work with that,” Saph judged. “Stinky girl funk? That was never going to happen.”

“What if it isn’t ENOUGH?” Bella said, edgy. She’d doused herself with puffy pink clouds. She did smell like edgy potpourri.

All three girls thought it. They’d come to with it. These were their owners. Now what? How much was he going to ask? How much could they give, and stay themselves? How far we’ve already come from partnership, Cass thought. She couldn’t seem to verbalize any of these things. They were thoughts that slunk around, furtive, incorrect.

“I would definitely eat more, for starters” Saph instructed. She waved at a single folding table set up in the otherwise empty room. It was piled up with snack cakes, cheap ones. Very cheap ones, and not particularly fresh. Salvaged from some Costco’s remainders, stuffed with cream and made out of inexpensive sponge cake. “Grow some more tits.”

The three students eyed it all. Melody couldn’t hold back. She made a dash for the table, and was only barely able to hold herself to a fast stride. She wore a shiny red button-down with short-sleeves, and although she still wore black pants, they had a hint of shape underneath them. With her face carefully painted she was now officially a girl. Plus there was a soft impression of tits in there.

Cass couldn’t quite stop herself either. She was so hungry, all the time. Since the bowling alley disaster, followed by the dog walking disaster, she’d been spending most of her resistance points there, on keeping herself slender. Small snacks at most.

But her body was crying out for it.

“They’re—umm—ummm—growing,” Melody told them, as they arrived at the table. It should’ve looked like a depressing post-volleyball parental snack scene. Instead it looked like a feast. “My breasts. I’ve been measuring them.”

“In the past—what—four days?” Bella said.

“Yes. Well. They grew infinitely the first night. From zero to one,” Melody said. She laughed at her own math joke, spraying crumbs. “No. They’re growing in. It’s okay. Hao must like them big, because they’re getting big, and I’m very hungry. You should see my nipples. They’re like, spreading.”

“Not that you care, right?” Cass said. She glanced over her shoulder. Saph was tapping her nails, watching them. She had pink, long nails that came to a subtle point. “Lets not lose track of the fight, ladies.”

“Cass, I’m really trying, but if Hao likes something, I feel—”

Melody closed her eyes, and mimicked the feeling of total submissive bliss.

The other girls knew what she meant.

“Yes. Yes!” Bella said. “I hate it! I mean, I love it, but like, where I’m guessing at what Jules wants it feels worse than just being told what he wants. But if I ask what he wants its set in stone, right? I can’t—” she flushed, and ripped open a cinnamon bun from a different presidential istration. “I didn’t know it was going to be this—hard. And now I smell like cheerleader. I hate cheerleader stink. Hated. Jules said not to think about it. He says if I have to be Barbie, at least that means no anxiety. No thoughts at all. It does sound nice, you know?”

Cass nodded, and realized she was eating as well.

It was okay, she told herself. She was making female friends, and her blood sugar was probably dangerously low.

“The key is actually to not know anything about your partner,” Cass said. “Miss Andry said the Anticipatory Needs game is how they get you.”

Bella and Melody exchanged a look.

“Owen seems really... patient,” Melody ventured.

“Yeah, I love that about—” Cass stopped herself. No. Not the “L” word. That was the virus. It loved—ahh!—it enjoyed slipping the word in. It couldn’t create love, but it wanted to. “It’s great. We knew each other just a little in High School. He’s had friends who are just slaves, I think he feels really ionately about not turning girls into toys. Maybe, we haven’t really talked much. I think we’re doing pretty good so far, being f—f—fffffriends who occasionally use each other sexually.”

“Oh?” Bella said, mock innocent. “So... what’s he into?”

“No idea,” Cass said. There was a package of dusty oreos in the pile. The other girls were fools to let it . Cass broke it open and fed it to herself, one after another. It was easy to eat fattening stuff, in front of Melody. Melody was on a rampage. So much for her slim self, she was going to explode with curves. The puberty train was finally getting fueled.

“No idea?” Melody said. She cocked her head. Her lipstick was coated with cheeto dust, and then a layer of chips, and then cookie crumbs. “You LIKE that you barely know him? He’s going to own you. He sort of does already. What if he’s into... stuff?”

“I—”

The boy’s room was being loud and muffled again. They were just in the next room, behind a poorly secured double door. Cy was giving them very powerful instruction, in something. And the boys were talking back. About what?

She had no idea what Owen was doing. Or saying. Or who he was.

Who was this man, who had total power over her? She’d just... assumed. He was a nice guy from High School.

“Be nice to know what they’re saying, wouldn’t it?” Bella said. She was eating as hard as the rest of them, getting her newly laundered punk outfit again dirty. She wiped her hands on her pants.

Yes, Cass thought, it would be. It’d be so good to know. Smart to know, that was it. She wasn’t just curious about this man, this tall man with the deep voice.

“Saph?” she said, and indicated the pile. It was nearly gone. They’d put away thousands of calories, and it was already all making its way, inexorably, to fattening and widening their chests. Melody was licking the wrappers. “Could you go get some more, maybe? I think Owen likes girls with big butts. Maybe.”

“Again,” Cy said. “From the diaphragm. Exhale as you say it.”

“Sit,” Jules said, unconvincingly.

All three girls felt their knees wobble. They were huddled around the door to where the men were, heavy with twinkies, and barely breathing. Saph had taken off to a 7/11, a mark of her independence. Going to a convenience store by herself was impressive.

“Jules,” Cy said. “You dress like you’re boating down the Seine. You talk like you’re in a philosophy seminar. You are going to have to find some raw, angry masculinity in there somewhere. Where are we going to find it?”

“Nowhere,” Bella whispered. “Don’t find it.”

“I could go buy a big American truck,” Jules said. “I could go practice saying, yee-haw.”

“Back in , how do they control their women?” Cy said.

“Honestly?” Jules had pauses when he talked, like he was mentally lighting a cigarette. “They hit them. I’m glad we left. Alright, alright. I can yell. I am not a boy who likes action figures. I am a man who likes action figures.”

“Good. So here’s the exercise, men,” Cy said. The girls heard the floorboards squeak, the man pacing back and forth. “I want you to tell me what frustrates you about the girls. Don’t tell me nothing does. We covered that last session. I want you to take all that frustration, and anger, and pent-up aggression from holding back, from restraining your most barbarian selves, and put it to use. We are UNDERSTANDING our frustration, and we are USING our frustration. Jules. Right now. What frustrates you about Bella? We’re all men here, let it out.”

“Bella is fine,” Jules said.

A happy squeak from Bella, her face shining. It was now a washed face, not just a pale one.

“C’mon, Jules,” Owen said. “We’re all fighting a battle here. You have needs, you have desires. You just said it, you’re a man. Don’t bullshit.”

What did Owen mean by that? Cass tried to hear, even harder. Melody’s words tinkled in her head—so she didn’t really know Owen. So what? It was an arranged marriage for purposes of protecting her ultra-fragile female personality.

“Alright, fine,” Jules said. “The music.”

“Oh,” Bella said, softly.

“I hate her stupid metal music. I hate it.” His voice sneered at them, through the door. “Music should be beautiful. Everything should be beautiful. Life should be taking things that are crude and making them exquisite. And her music is loud, it is obnoxious, it is dull, it is childish. Metal is for teenagers. No, tweens. She played it for me at our first arrangement and I just thought—I have to listen to this? This is like listening to a factory explode. And honestly I think she’s just doing it to be different, to protect herself. There’s no way anyone can actually enjoy it. I get it, I get why she’s doing it, if that’s why. I hope that’s why.”

A breath, and, and then savagely, with guttural disdain:

“But I hate it.”

Cass turned her head just in time to see an important part of Bella die.

Tens of thousands of hours of Spotify streams went into a drain. Discographies, artist biographies, wikipedia articles on bands, concert bootlegs, all of it hateful to a man. That light was snuffed out.

Bella glanced down at a t-shirt she would never wear again, at an outfit she now despised.

Cass looked away, so she wouldn’t have to watch. Wow, she mouthed. She’d avoided that kind of deep emotional attachment. To anything. Sure, it’d left her boring. But she had less to lose.

Except Owen, the virus reminded her.

“Alright. Use that. Owen, do you want to—”

“I’ll go,” Hao said. “I fucking hate it when Melody beats me at chess eight times in a row. To prove how smart she is. So damn smart. I hate it when she beats me five times in a row. I hate it when she beats me one time in a row. I just—I just don’t—it’s like you said earlier, Cy. What’s the point of humoring her? What’s the fucking point?”

“Ow,” Melody said, very quietly. She winced. “I think I just forgot how rooks work,” she whispered. The short, plain girl rubbed at her chest, anxiously. She needed her tits to come in, fast.

“Okay, you’re set. Plenty of frustration. Thanks. Owen. Hit us. What is it with Cass that boils you over?”

“Well,” Owen said, thoughtfully. “I guess nothing.”

Yay, Cass thought. Go Owen. She had warm, happy thoughts about him.

“I mean, I barely know her. I’m not sure there’s much to know. We were in band together and she’s spent the last like, two years, encased in her room trying to avoid, you know, everything. I asked her what she’s into on our first date and she was like, I’m into not being my Mom and not wearing a collar, and that’s it. So.”

“Alyssa!” Hao crowed. “I saw her yesterday at the library. She was an art installation. They had her painted silver and all the men were supposed to just jizz on her back. I’m not sure what was arty about it.”

“Yeah. Yeah... Alyssa. So, I get it, but I wouldn’t say I’m like, frustrated at her, it’s the situation, but okay, fine, you guys at least know your girls, you know? She’s like, generic. It’s like she made herself into a—into a commodity, you know?”

“You don’t want her?” Cy said.

Cass sniffed, outraged.

“No!” Owen said. “No, no.” Warm relief coursed through Cass. “No, it’s... so that’s what’s frustrating, you know? Whenever I’ve seen her so far she’s talked about one thing, the virus. That’s it. Like you guys are frustrated that your girls are into stuff you aren’t into and I’m like, guess what, my girl isn’t into anything. She isn’t into anything. The only thing she’s into is not fucking me. That’s the only thing she is. And it’s like she’s proud of it. I guess—I guess I get it—but...”

“Owen, I am validating the fuck out of your feelings right now,” Cy said. “That’s frustrating. Be frustrated.”

“I don’t want to complain. I don’t know why it’s—but yeah. Okay. It is frustrating. I’m really frustrated. And this was supposed to just be a favor for my Dad.”

She looked up. Melody had just lost every remaining game of chess in her life, and Bella was snuffing out thousands of hours of singing along to Five Finger Death Punch.

They both looked at her sadly.

At HER.

Like she had a defect.

A favor, to his Dad.

It was the exact answer Cass should’ve wanted. A perfect situation had dropped into her lap. A distant, friendly male. A white knight, steadfast in his courage, to his princess high and far away in her tower. Where she could watch youtube videos about combing her long hair.

She felt sick. Not just an object, but an unloved one. An unwanted toy. The girl equivalent of socks at Christmas.

Cass felt like crawling inside of herself until nothing was left.

“I mean, I don’t want to ruin her, you know? She’s mint in box right now. You take her out, start to play with her, suddenly you get... I mean, I guess you get her Mom.”

“That makes a ton of sense,” Jules said. “Mint in box.”

“What’s the problem?” Cy added.

“Anyway,” Owen said, in a new tone to Cass. A heavy, sad one. “I guess... I guess we should talk more. So she can make me mad. You guys seem mad. I’m just—I don’t know! I don’t know what Cass is, and I own her. I don’t feel like that should be frustrating, but it is.”

“I’m not mad,” Hao said. “I just want to win at fucking chess for once.”

“So here’s the homework, men,” Cy said. “You’re bringing those girls home. You’re working on your control. You understand? Control of yourselves. You already have control over them. So, you are not going to touch them. They are going to want to please you, and pleasure you, because you’re men. You are going to say no. You are going to be frustrated, unsatisfied men, and you are going to channel that into being MEN with AUTHORITY. Self-control! Men who know themselves are men who can self-actualize! Got it? Together now. Sit!”

“SIT!” the men chorused, a mix of baritones, and the girls outside fell over themselves, eager to put their heinies on the ground, to comply.