Why fate decided to give a kinky sapphic transgirl the power to make any femme-headed person her obedient slave with a snap of her fingers, I'll never know. Also, I’m not sure I really want to know, not while I’m having so much fun with it.

It all started my freshman year of college. It was hard, academically, but I was going through a lot of growth as a person and I was enjoying it – being away from my parents and hometown was liberating. I knew I was a girl from the age of six or seven, but I didn’t understand those feelings and puberty was confusing as fuck. I didn’t talk to anyone about them, either, I didn’t know what to do, but while my parents may not have known why I wanted to do the things I did, they didn’t discourage me either, which was good. But in college I started adopting a more androgynous appearance and hanging out at the school’s LGBT center.

I was on my way back to my nonbinary dorm one night when it happened. Campus was spread out around a steep hill, with two of the residential areas on the top of the hill and a bunch of physical science buildings at the bottom. A few weeks after moving in, I discovered a path from my dorm to the rest of campus that cut through the woods on the hill and through an alley between two buildings – a chemistry building and a high energy physics one. 

A thunderstorm came up as I was walking between them and I was knocked over when they were struck by lightning simultaneously. I felt energy arc through my body and I was knocked flat with my ears ringing. I don’t think I lost consciousness, but I was dazed and it was a few minutes before I was able to get up. Although some later tested showed no detectable physiological or neurological difference from before or after, I think that freak occurrence gave me my power. Or maybe it just unlocked something that was already present in me. 

Regardless, it was only a few days later I discovered my ability. 

I was talking to my friend Kat. She was one of the first other transwomen I had ever met and she was further along in her transition than me – she was already on hormones and presenting feminine all the time. I was attracted to her and I suspected she was attracted to me, but we hadn’t really talked about that. 

What we were talking about was my experience in the storm. I remember I was describing how I was knocked down and I snapped my fingers for emphasis. When Kat didn’t say anything, I looked over at her and saw this unfamiliar blank expression on her face. Her eyes seemed to stare into empty space. 

“Kat?” I said. 

She didn’t answer. I waved my hands in front of her face and she didn’t respond. After a few seconds, though, she blinked and carried on as though nothing had happened, nor did she remember it. I let it slide, but then it happened again the next time I snapped my fingers. 

This time I rolled with it. “Can you hear me, Kat?” I asked. 

“Yes,” she said softly.

“What happened?”

“When you snapped your fingers I entered what I guess is an alternate state of consciousness,” she said. “I feel relaxed, peaceful – and compelled to obey unquestioningly the person who snapped their fingers: you.”

Needless to say, that got the juices flowing. But I didn’t jump into having a harem of hypnotized (I guess? I don’t know) slave girls right away. I negotiated, I got consent. I may be a slut, but damnit, I’m an ethical slut. Although, I will admit to inadvertently snapping a few people at parties – and just as inadvertently cracking a few eggs. 

So now I can go to bed and wake up in a cuddle pile of mindlessly obedient cute femmes when I want and the timing works out. Those days are the best. And Kat? She stays with me. She got even more into being snapped than I did snapping her and she spends much of her days basking in her mindless obedience.