There's a war going on inside my head. I don't know exactly how long it's been going on, and I don't really know who the enemy is. All I do know is, I'm losing and losing bad.
I almost surrendered without firing a shot, in fact. It was only when I found myself staring at a man in the street, a vacant smile on my face as I caught my mind wondering what it would take to get him to come back into the alley with me so I could suck his cock, that I realized the thoughts inside my brain didn't actually belong to me. They were someone else's notions, camouflaged so skillfully that it was only when I challenged them that I realized they were infiltrators, and the more I stood there probing my own beliefs and opinions the more I realized they weren't alone. I had so many saboteurs in my head that I couldn't differentiate friend from foe anymore, and I had no idea when or how it had happened.
But once I was alerted to the enemy, so many things made more sense to me. My clothing, for example; I never thought of myself as dressing especially conservatively, but my recent purchasing habits had definitely shifted my wardrobe from 'professional woman with a style that showed her personality' to 'flamboyant and provocative' to 'showing so much alabaster skin it stretches the very limits of the dress code'. I'd been picking outfits based on the advice of a little voice inside my head that sounded like me, burbling with joy every time I found something a bit sluttier and a bit showier, but now I know that was another one of the infiltrators inside my head. They were testing my limits, seeing how much they could get away with before my early warning system went off, and I'm ashamed to say my guard was completely down.
It was probably down because I was constantly tired and horny, another enemy operation that went off without a hitch. I didn't think much about my increased sex drive at first; I'm a healthy young woman with needs and desires, and I've been going through a little bit of a dry spell lately even though I've never been wetter. I figured I was masturbating more because I didn't have a guy in my life, and I wasn't getting off as much as I wanted because I kept losing sleep with my constant masturbation. I won't say it didn't trouble me, but did I think I was under the influence of an insidious psy-op crafted by the hostile agents inside my brain to keep me distracted and denied all the damn time? No I did not.
I mean, honestly, would you? Would anybody? It's a big part of why I've never told anyone about this before now; saying to someone, 'I think the thoughts in my head aren't my own and they're making me do things I don't want to do' is a one-way ticket to some heavy medications and plenty of therapy. And if I thought that might help, honestly I'd sign up for it in a heartbeat, but I've learned how to recognize the saboteurs inside my brain and I know they don't come from me. These aren't intrusive thoughts, they're intruder thoughts. Some general far removed from the battlefield sent them to make me a weak, horny, submissive slut and...
And it's working. I'm fighting on so many fronts I can't hope to repel every attacker. I'm surrounded by beliefs and opinions I know aren't mine, and they keep sneaking in and scoring victory after victory against my very sense of self. That man on the street? I wound up blowing him. I knew it wasn't really my idea, I knew I was succumbing to an elaborately planned operation to undermine my sense of self and take out key installations inside my very identity as an independent woman, but that didn't stop me from seducing him into coming back behind the dumpsters with me and fucking my mouth until he shot a big sticky load all over my face and chest. It's a damn good thing my dress was cut so low or I probably would have had to go home and change before I went back to the office. As it was, I think I spent fifteen minutes cleaning myself up with my fingers.
And that was only one of their many victories. I've found myself licking pussy in the bathroom of lesbian bars, teasing my co-workers with flirtatious winks and poses that gave them a look straight down my cleavage, edging until 2 AM when I know I have to be up at 7 the next day, and dozens of other defeats that my battered and beleaguered mind can barely even recall.
Because even my memory is under assault. Key recollections that would allow me to determine the identity of the enemy general have been taken out by spies and assassins, leaving me vacant and horny and utterly without intelligence... and I mean that in practically every sense of the word. I don't have any idea who might be doing this to me, and after my third or fourth hour of edging, I can't really think well enough to figure it out. I'd say it's making me paranoid, but honestly I've ceded so much of the territory inside my head that half my masturbation fantasies involve surrendering to the opposing forces now.
They've opened up a new front recently, on top of everything else that's happened. Weed's been legal here for about a year now, but I've never had any desire to indulge... until last week, when I suddenly found myself following an impulse camouflaged as my own idea to visit a head shop and drop a couple hundred dollars on vaping supplies using a credit card I don't remember applying for. I spent the rest of the night stoned out of my goddamn mind and discovering that THC makes my whole body horny as fuck, and between the edging and the hypnosis porn I think I wound up waving the white flag for about half my frontal lobe that evening.
Someone else is paying that credit card bill, by the way. I'm sure if I did a little digging, I could find out who, but the enemy agents in my head keep deploying decoy operations to keep me distracted from looking into it. And by 'distracted' I mean 'high and horny and constantly rubbing my slick, throbbing cunt'. The sad part is, describing it like that is kind of a turn-on for me now.
I mean, I guess it's all sad when you really think about it. Here I am, thinking I'm master and commander of my own brain, and someone out there in my daily life--someone I knew and trusted, someone I never even suspected of wanting to turn me into their horny pansexual fucktoy--looked at me and saw nothing but unguarded borders and an indolent, unsuspecting population. They swooped in for an initial conquest so effortless I can't even recall it, and between you and me? The resistance is not going to save the day here. It barely exists anymore.
