On the day of his eighteenth birthday, Thomas Daniels asked the most beautiful girl in college out on a date. He bought her dinner at a fancy restaurant a mile away from campus and then enjoyed the pleasure of her company even more over a late movie session at the local drive-thru. Megan loved unnerving stuff despite being easily scared, and she was the cuddling type, too. More than their hands got locked together that night and in the heat of the moment, they made a promise that such pleasure would never end.

Twenty-five years later, they were still keeping it with a smile on their lips. The college sweethearts were now husband and wife and they had two teenage kids. Lucas and Valerie were twins, with the latter being three and a half minutes older. Unlike common stories often shared in the news or newspaper articles, they had never experienced the so-called “connection” that bound lives in almost supernatural ways. They argued all the time, but that was to be expected given the constant hormonal flux, and the less time they spent near one another the better. Still, they were a strong family that nothing or no one could bring down unless they wanted it to. The hardships had been plentiful over the years, but only one had come truly close to disrupting the status quo, and her name was no longer allowed in the household.

Thomas’s family was enjoying a break from the big city and Amanda Devereaux’s cunning schemes. Camping trips were a long-lasting tradition they tried their best to keep nurturing yet the fascination of the early years dwindled the older the twins got. Poor reception was mostly to blame, for trying to keep two fifteen-year-olds away from the Internet was almost like signing a death sentence. In a battle between Reason and colorful smartphone screens, technology always won.

It was a Thursday morning, Spring was in full bloom in the park and all around it and Lucas and Valerie had already left their tents searching for an elusive extra bar that allowed them to keep up with their friend’s social media posts. Thomas was in exceptionally high spirits, and so was his wife. Being away from the company’s antics was exactly what the doctor had prescribed and with the sexual harassment investigation underway, there was hope for a well-deserved happy ending. The only thing lacking that day was,

“Ice,” Megan declared.

“What?” Thomas shook his head, momentarily breaking away from the classic sci-fi novel he had been devouring since the beginning of the vacation.

“We’re running out of ice. Do you mind getting some more when you go out on your walk?”

“Not at all. How many do you need?”

“Four bags should be enough for the rest of the weekend, and I’ll figure out the rest later.”

“Sounds good,” he laid down the book inside the main tent and stretched his arms and legs. Thomas was wearing denim shorts and a light-blue T-shirt while his wife was all decked in relaxing lilac from the kimono-style dress to the open-toed sandals. Both had fresh reddish marks on their shoulders.

“It looks like the mosquitoes got quite the meal out of you last night,” she remarked.

“I can say the same about you, dear. Do we need more cream, too?”

“No. There’s plenty to go around until we go home.”

“Okay. Is there anything else you need me to bring?”

“I won’t say no to a bottle of flavored gas water if you can get me one.”

“Let me guess: lemon and cucumber again?”

“You know me so well...” she kissed his left cheek and hugged him.

“Of course I do. How else do you think I convinced you to stay with me all this time?”

“Go on then and if you see the kids, tell them not to stay gone for long.”

“They will not listen, but okay. Be back soon.”

Thomas stretched again and was on his way. The park had two distinct walking trails, one that led deep into the woods alongside a ravine and a suspended bridge to the right before doubling back on itself, and the other that branched out in two parallel lines one on each side of the main camping area before combining once more on a single path that ended by the west gate and a small supermarket for all additional basic needs and some not so basic. It was a cozy place, albeit a little expensive, but as long as it kept his wife happy...

He walked along the leftmost path at a steady pace, taking short breaths at each time. Thanks to a well-established exercise routine, Thomas was in excellent shape with one pound above his ideal weight. Things had definitely taken a turn for the better since he had embraced Flexitarianism and there was little to no chance of ever going back to his old eating habits again.

He was almost at the end of his morning trek, the silver doors of the supermarket in plain view when the first warning sign made the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. A little beyond the park’s entrance was a vehicle unfit for camping. The limo with black window tint exhibited a Seattle plate and the last logo he wanted to see that weekend. Someone from Hartwood Industries had come for a visit, but was it friend or foe?

Thomas stopped to look around, eyes focusing on any detail that could give him a hint about what to expect. The limo’s rear right door was slightly ajar and there was a distinct lack of outlines on the driver’s seat. Suddenly, he felt like he had a dozen invisible prying eyes on him and they were closing in.

The twelve proved an exaggeration, yet the menace was real. The first goon emerged from inside the supermarket while the second appeared behind him. He was tall and bald and had a raspy voice that was anything but sexy. Pressing the barrel of an undetectable plastic gun against the troubled man’s back, he said,

“You’re a long way from home, Mr. Daniels. Mrs. Devereaux wants a word with you. Please move.”

“I’d rather not,” Thomas replied. “Tell Mrs. Devereaux to kiss my ass and crawl back to her top-floor office. I’m taking a rest from her here.”

“Your rest is over. You will go to her now unless you wish for my associate to introduce yourself to your wife and children.”

“Leave them be, you hear? They’ve got nothing to do with any of this.”

“Their entanglement in this mess is entirely up to you. You fucked up big time with your senseless accusations, and now it’s time to pay the price. Pray that Mrs. Devereaux is feeling generous today, or her wrath may prove too much for you to handle.”

“I’m not afraid of that bitch.”

“That just proves you’re not as bright as you think you are. Move!”

Thomas reluctantly complied and walked towards the limo. The man threatening him motioned his colleague to monitor his family and then locked the vehicle’s door on the outside. No one was going anywhere until they had their chance to talk things through.

Amanda Devereaux sat lazily with her legs crossed, sipping a Blue Lagoon cocktail with a thin wedge of lime. She was dressed in a real brown leather suit with a black criss-cross top and matching ankle-high platform boots. Her smile was as fake as the rest of her personality, something she easily demonstrated as soon as he was locked in with her.

“Thomas, so nice of you to join me this morning. I know you were hoping not to see me again after the slanderous campaign you moved against me, but you’re out of luck. I bring news and not the ones you were hoping to hear.”

“I’m not interested in anything you have to say, Mrs. Devereaux. Open this door right now!”

“Not until I’m done. Thanks to you, last weekend I had a rather unpleasant exchange with Human Resources and I have to say they were all shocked at how low you stooped to get to me. Sexual harassment, really? You really thought that would fly, especially in today’s society?”

“It’s the truth, why wouldn’t it? You fucked my head and tried to drive a wedge between me and my family! If you thought I was going to let that atrocity slide, you don’t know who the hell you’re dealing with. Now, open this fucking door!”

“Stop complaining, Thomas! I didn’t invite you here to be insulted. And you’re wrong. I know exactly the kind of person who’s sitting before me and now so does the rest of the company. You’re a bitter man who tried to bite more than he could chew and now is under scrutiny by everyone who cares. You never stood a no matter how much you believed otherwise and when the proceedings are over, you’ll be fired and your name dragged through the mud so you never find work in the business again. Let me be the first to congratulate you for messing up more than I thought possible. Sorry for not clapping, but this drink is more important than you.”

“Oh yeah? How about now, bitch?” he jumped forward and snatched the cold glass from her right hand before throwing it against the farthest window. Only the first shattered, pointy shards flying everywhere while blue droplets of lemonade-infused Vodka stained the top half of her outfit.

“Ah, going straight to violence, I see...” she chuckled. “A bold choice, but not that unexpected, and one that won’t serve you in the long run, either. You damned yourself the moment you decided to go against me and any more insolence from will not go unpunished. You should have kept your mouth shut like everybody else, Thomas. Was it really hard to let me be in charge?”

“I didn’t consent to your advances or the ideas you planted in my brain! Yes, it was hard and will continue to be so. You don’t get to fuck with me again!”

“Oh, Thomas, if that were true, I wouldn’t be here. There’s no way to save your job now, but you can still serve me well. Accept the power of my boobs over your mind and apologize for your wrongdoings, and I’ll leave your family alone. Refuse me again, and this trip of yours may very well be your last.”

“You’re delusional.”

“Are you saying ‘no’ to me?”

“Forever and always.”

“I suppose a stubborn ass will never stop being one but since that’s your choice, you’ll have to live with it,” Amanda tossed the leather jacket to the side and lifted the top above her head, her voluptuous breasts once more bouncing before his eyes. She pressed them against one another, nipples hardening in contact with the cool air inside the luxurious vehicle, and continued, “My boobs won’t be denied.”

“The hell they won’t!” he moved to strike her again, but she pressed a heel against his left knee pushing him back into his seat. Thomas hit his neck on the headrest, temporarily losing his focus. He squinted and the two delicious mounds of naked flesh engulfed his senses. With a smirk, she began reeling him back in under her mesmerizing control.

“Be quiet, for my boobs are talking. These aren’t new to you, you’ve seen them before and your subconscious remembers what it was like to fall for them. Memories are a good thing. Something once thought forgotten can be made to reawaken stronger than ever, but the truth is you never let them go. No one ever does. To see them just once like you’re seeing them now is to see them all the time, even when you’re not aware of them. The impression of my boobs lingers on, a phantom image that follows you like a shadow. They’re both the trigger and the suggestion that binds your will to mine. What you saw, can’t be unseen, what you felt, never goes away. That image that was once in the corner of your eye is the whole picture, and it’s only natural for your eyes to feast once more on the source of such exquisite pleasure. Remember, Thomas.

“Remember the first time I called you to my office and showed you how intoxicating they are. Remember the subtle hesitation in every muscle of your body as you first tried to avert your gaze only to let it fixate deeply on each boob, pupils moving from left to right, right to left, incapable of choosing which one you’re most drawn to for they are both perfect. Remember my words of praise as they lulled you into joyful surrender under them. I bet you can already hear the words again, as clear as that original moment when everything changed for you. I used a rhyme the first time, didn’t I? A silly thing I improvised on the spot as your willpower was slowly being drained from your body and soul. What was it again? Ah, yes, I remember it now... To go so deep is to be brave, forget the world, embrace the slave... Down you go for me again.”

“No,” he muttered, her boobs drawing closer and closer. “My wife...”

“... isn’t here. She’s here but not near enough and if she were sitting next to you, she would say the same things I’m about to tell you. Memories of trance are good for you. Lost in them is where you need to be. The more you remember falling the easier you drop again. It’s okay to remember being mine. It’s okay to remember burying your nose and tongue between my boobs. It’s okay to remember when your fly got stuck between them and I titfucked every ounce of resistance from you while you stared deep into my eyes... I never turned you into a mindless boob junkie because you were one from the very beginning. It’s okay to remember being wrong about me because the truth is you’re always wrong unless I say so. When the boobs talk, you listen, and when you listen, you understand what really matters. My pleasure, my rules, my boobs... you listen and follow, you sink and obey...”

Thomas’s eyes widened as she continued to push him inside the labyrinth of his innermost thoughts, for the only thing more dangerous than a good memory is an avalanche of them rushing at the same time. The slight feverish glow on his pupils became more pronounced.

“Not again...” he tried to say.

“Yes, again. Once, twice, as many times as it takes to remember how powerless you once were and how powerless you can’t help but be. It’s what my boobs want and they always get their way. And as you look, I count you down, crystallizing each memory in its rightful place. Ten, staring at my boobs, listening to my voice... Nine, yearning to kiss them again... Eight, hard for my boobs, relinquishing all pathetic notions of resistance and self-control... seven, remembering how good it is to kneel before them... six, already on your knees, thoughts fading away... five, drooling helplessly for my boobs, eyelids beginning to flutter... four, accepting the memories as reality and reality as everlasting... three, empty of everything but my boobs... two, unable to forget their absolute power over you... one, deep within your own mind which is now mine to command. You’re not a man, but a servant to my boobs. You’re the memory I want you to be. Sleep!”

Thomas collapsed atop her exposed breasts, glazed eyes oblivious to the limousine’s comforts and the mess of his foolish defiance. He drifted within an imaginary funhouse where every mirror reflected her boobs, and they laughed at him at the same time. The exits were locked, his mind lost in the collapsing center.

“Good slave, back where you should have never left. I wish I could say I forgive you for all this, but one doesn’t get to be where I am today by showing mercy to undeserving creatures. Nothing you did against me was innocent, so innocence is forever lost to those you hold dear as well,” she grinned.

Amanda tapped the limo door on her side and waited for it to unlock.

“How may I serve you, Mistress?” the menacing bald man asked, peeking inside.

“Tell Jonah to bring me his wife. It’s a good time as any for us to get properly introduced.”

“Yes, Mistress,” the henchman replied, already holding a black phone to his left ear. All boobs deserved to conquer the world, but only one pair got to be on top. Amanda already knew the rules of the game. It was Megan’s turn to see the truth.