I've enjoyed several stories in the Mind Control section here. The ones I like the best are those where the person being controlled are fully aware of what's happening, but they are unable to do anything about it. Maybe it's because I'm a sick bastard, but I always laugh when an asshole is forced to do something that they despise, all while knowing that they are doing it, why they are doing it, and regretting their choices that caused their predicament. Those stories where the victim has their brains washed to accept their new life just seem to lack any sense of regret or real vengeance. Sure, the person controlling their mind gets a bit of satisfaction from turning a hated enemy into a mindless bimbo, but where is the understanding by the victim that they are actually being punished?
So, here is my first contribution to this genre. Sorry, but our 'hero' is not an overly nice person. In fact, she's kind of a bitch. Then again, would a really nice person use powers given to them for vengeance or good? Would a good person use mind control to change an asshole into a decent person, or would they use it to fuck the asshole over? Sorry. I'm getting a little philosophical here. Speaking of philosophy, continue reading for a couple more questions to ponder.
Disclaimer: This is fiction. It isn't real. Every word written here came straight from the darkest depths of my warped mind. All characters were created, molded, and developed from the cesspool of my imagination. As far as I know, no real person lives in my imagination, so they cannot escape into the real world. No one under the age of 18 is engaging is any sexual activities. If you imagine that there might be children in the vicinity, they are all busy with other things and are unable to see, hear, smell, or otherwise detect any nudity, sexual activity, or violence. There is some incest in this story.
Incest, Mind Control, Homosexuality, forced homosexuality, non-consent, lesbian, forced lesbian, and probably a few other screwed up, twisted and warped things. Read at your own risk.
Spoken words will be in normal text. Thoughts will be italicized.
Power in the wrong hands:
So, here I am pondering a couple interesting questions. Sorry, I can't help it. Blame it on my philosophy professor. No, I'm not a philosophy major. Well, not exactly. My major is actually Criminal Justice. Technically, that its. In reality, I am pre-law. I want to be a lawyer. That should really terrify you. I'll get to that in a minute. Anyway, the questions I am pondering as I watch the disgusting display before me are: Does absolute power actually corrupt absolutely, and does great power really come with great responsibility? You see, just the fact that I am questioning those thoughts should make people nervous about me becoming a part of the justice system.
First off, does absolute power corrupt absolutely? Suppose that the person given absolute power was already corrupted? If they are already corrupted before getting that power, did the power really corrupt them further, or is that person simply using their newfound power to do what they naturally would have done anyway? Think about it. What do you really think would happen if a narcissistic psychotic sociopath suddenly inherits their Great Aunt's billion-dollar fortune? They are already seriously fucked up. The fortune would simply allow them more resources to act on their desires.
Second, does great power come with great responsibility? I can see where everyone would think so, but let's just concentrate on the responsibility aspect here. What is responsibility? Who defines what being responsible is? More to the point, who is to say that a specific action is responsible or not? Say that a bad person was doing something bad to someone else, and a person with great power had the chance to intervene. Is it more responsible to simply stop the action and try to get the bad person to behave, or would it be more responsible to administer some sort of punishment to the bad person so they would see the error of their ways? Sure, fucking with a good person is obviously not a responsible use of power, but what about fucking with an evil person? How much should a powerful person be allowed to fuck with an evil person? See? There are lots of questions there.
OK. That's enough pondering for now. Things in the alley were beginning to wrap up. Time to finish this and be on my merry way. Oh. What was going on, you ask? Well, I happened to stumble upon six of the James Street Wild Boyz cornering a young woman in an alley. They were about to rob and rape her when I showed up. I put a stop to that. After making sure that she couldn't tell anyone anything about me, she ran out of the alley and escaped. The Wild Boyz weren't so lucky. I had them strip and fuck each other in the ass, then suck them off. Yes, I know that 10 loads of cum each withing less than an hour is unrealistic -- even from a group if 18- to 21-year-old guys, but I have a secret that can overcome that. Now, they were standing naked in front of me with 5 loads of cum flowing out their asses and five more loads in their stomachs.
"Pay attention (like they had a choice. I'd already taken care of that). You will now cut off your own testicles and eat them. When you are finished with that, you will all go to the closest police precinct and confess every single illegal thing that you have ever done. You will also confess every illegal thing that you have ever witnessed or heard about. You will provide all information as to what and where all evidence of those crimes can be found. You will request that your Miranda rights are given to you, then you will wave your rights to silence and legal representation. You will not ask for any deals for your testimony. You will offer to testify at all trials for no compensation whatsoever. You will accept whatever sentence is offered." I could sense their terror increase as I spoke. Not only would they be serving several years in prison, but they would be going in as snitches after ratting out all of their friends, and in some cases, family members. It was about to get a whole lot worse for them.
"Furthermore, as of right now, you are all submissive homosexual bottoms. You will never refuse to suck a cock or take it up the ass. Last, but not least, you will never be able to tell anyone anything about me or what happened in this alley. You will also never be able to cause any harm to me or anyone else ever again." Oh, did I neglect to mention that the James Street Wild Boyz were notoriously anti-homosexual?
With that, I turned and walked back out of the alley. I smiled as I heard the screams of pain as they castrated themselves. My mind filled with their terror, pain, and horrible thoughts about their futures as I turned down the street. So much for the James Street Wild Boyz, I thought as I tucked all the money that they graciously handed to me when I asked into my purse.
Yeah, I'm sure that you have a lot of questions right now. Those questions are most likely not about philosophy, either. Who am I, and what am I are probably the most obvious questions you have. Fair enough.
My name is Katrina Jones. I'm really nothing special. At least, I wasn't. I'm still nothing special to most people. I'm average height, average weight, average body, and average looks. I have brown hair and brown eyes. I'm not hideous, but I'm not a supermodel either. I'm just plain average. You probably pass me on the street and barely even notice. I do have one thing going for me, though. I'm really smart. Sure, that doesn't help in the 'getting laid' department, but it does help with my goal of becoming the most feared and ruthless shark in the legal field.
One other thing that you should know about me. I'm a sociopath. I actually do hate people. Not just some people, all people. That probably comes from my childhood. Who knows, it may be part hereditary as well. All I can say is that I had no friends growing up. We were on the lower end of middle class, so I didn't have money. I already described my looks. For those of you who grew up in public schools, you know that being the smart kid in class only served to put a bullseye on your back. I was bullied all through elementary school, Junior High, and Highschool. Any possible friendships that may have developed were quickly squashed because no one wanted to be associated with the class whipping post.
I should also mention that my mother was a cast-iron bitch. She cheated on my dad throughout the marriage. Dad finally had enough and divorced her when I was 10-years old. She never even seriously tried to hide it from him or anyone else. Up until that point, my dad was the only real bright spot in my pathetic life. After the divorce, he moved to the East coast to get away from all the crap my mom was doing to him. Now, being the daughter of the town whore just added to the bullying. Is it really any wonder that I turned out like I did?
I managed to graduate high school with honors. Being a sociopath, I wanted to be able to fuck with other people for a change. What better profession to fuck with people's lives than being a lawyer? I mean, sure; I could have become a serial killer, but there's really no money or future in that. I suppose I could have become a paid hitwoman, but the odds are that the long-term prognosis most likely leads to prison or an early grave. Being a lawyer means legally fucking people over and being paid a boatload of money for doing it.
So, here I was. It was the summer before my senior year of college. Where exactly I was and why I was there really isn't important. The fact is that I was driving across a flat open area in the middle of the country when my piece of crap car died. It was a pretty desolate area, so I really didn't have a lot of hope for a random car to come along and help me out. I did see a couple of buildings in the distance, so I decided to walk and hope that there was someone there who could help me. Yeah, whatever. Don't judge my decision unless you were there. So, I got out and began hoofing it. No, I didn't check the weather reports. I had Pandora playing on my phone through the car stereo.
About an hour later, I saw that there was a house about a quarter mile away. I had noticed dark clouds forming, and the humidity was increasing. I started to walk faster. I heard rumbling and turned to see a few lightning flashes. I sped up some more. When the rain began coming down, I began running. I noticed a pickup starting to move down the driveway. By that time, I was in a full sprint. There was a blinding flash, and I felt an enormous jolt.
My eyes opened to see the inside of a nicely decorated room. Taking stock of my situation, I found that I was lying in a nice comfortable bed. Yes, there was a significant amount of pain, but, surprisingly, I found that the pain reduced as I concentrated on an area that hurt. Odd. I also began to realize that I was hearing voices. Looking around, I was alone. I also started feeling weird emotions. First off, I had no reason to feel happiness, sorrow, jealousy, or a few more. Anger? Sure. That I could understand. Not the rest.
"Hello?" I ventured to speak.
'
She's awake
.' I heard. Well, I think I heard it, but something was off. A minute later, the door opened, and an elderly man and woman came in.
"Hi there. Thank God that you're finally awake." He said '
She must be some kind of idiot to have been out there in a thunderstorm like that
.'
Something very strange was going on. Obviously, I heard the first part. Weirdly, I 'heard' the second part as well. I said 'weirdly' for two reasons. First off, his mouth wasn't moving in the slightest when I heard it. Secondly, I realized that it sounded a bit different because the sound hadn't traveled through my ears. Probably best to not mention that and just pretend that I hadn't heard it. I'm a sociopath, not psychotic -- yet.
They began talking some more and asking how I was feeling. I also began 'hearing' things that were not being said. I discovered that they were an elderly couple who lived on the farm. He had seen me walking down the road and was on his way to pick me up when the thunderstorm began closing in. He was about halfway down the driveway when he saw me get struck in the head by a bolt of lightning. He rushed over to me and managed to do CPR and restart my heart. After putting me in his truck, he brought me to the house, and they put me in this bed. I had been out for about an hour. They called a doctor friend of theirs, and she would be here soon to check me over.
Actually, I was feeling fine by that time. Being polite, I agreed to wait until the doctor checked me out. Yes, I was kind of freaking out, but I had learned a long time ago how to hide things. We sociopaths are pretty good at that.
