He was passing out leaflets for the Senator as Michaela walked past him in town. She gave him the finger without really even thinking about it and carried on.
Later that evening, she entered the bar to meet her friend Louise and saw him sitting with her. Lu seemed to be smiling slightly and perfectly content, so Michaela just hoped she wouldn’t be recognised and took her drink over to meet them.
“Hi,” she said. He smiled back.
“So come on, Lu, introduce us,” she said.
“Oh. Michaela, this is Hank.”
“Hi there,” he smiled.
“Yeah, hey.” She nodded. “What’s up?”
“We’ve just been getting to know each other,” Hank said. “Right?” Lu nodded.
“Oh? What have you found out?”
“Well, it seems like you guys have a difference of opinion with me on who we should send to the Senate.”
Great. He remembered her. She rolled her eyes. “You do not want me to get into what’s wrong with our Senator, buddy. The shit he’s got up to, the backhanders, the shady-”
“Do you really believe he’s any different to the others?” Hank asked, cutting across her. Michaela bristled, but his tone had been civil. Maybe he was actually listening.
“Alright, sure, everyone takes bribes. But your boy, he’s the poster child. And he doesn’t care what the results are so long as he gets his.”
He shrugged. “I’m OK with that,” he said simply.
She stared at him, jaw open, for a long moment, then looked across to her friend. Lu was still smiling.
“How can you say that?”
“He spends my money as well as the next man’s. Smoothed out a lot of red tape for my company.”
“You have a company?” she asked.
“MetaPharm,” he said, nodding. She knew it, vaguely; a biomedical firm doing chemical research the next town over. A friend of hers worked there, and had always described the owner as an arrogant pick who’d happily destroy an employee who caused trouble.
“Jesus. Your place is a business horror story.”
He laughed. He actually laughed. He tapped his fingers on the table in an odd pattern. Probably a nervous tic, she thought, as Lu reached for her drink.
Chaos unfolded in the next few moments as Lu managed to knock Michaela’s drink over. Her hand fell back to her lap and she just stared at it, silent, presumably too embarrassed to speak. Michaela started up and back, avoiding being splashed. “Jesus!”
Hank rose, dipping his hand in his pocket. “Tell you what,” he said with a smile. “Let me buy you a replacement. Show you I’m not all that bad.”
“A replacement won’t do that,” she retorted. “But, alright, yeah. A large glass of wine and I’m good.”
“We do agree on something,” he grinned. Draining his own glass, he headed to the bar. Michaela sat gingerly on a different bar stool to the one now being dripped on.
“What the hell, Lu?” she asked.
Lu looked back at her placidly, but said nothing. Michaela clucked her tongue.
“This guy is toxic,” she said, almost hissing. “Have you heard about his company? What’s even got into you?”
Lu smiled vaguely, but said nothing. Embarrassed, probably.
She leaned forward. “Are you taking this seriously? It’s not like he’s even being that nice to us!”
Although, she reflected, maybe Lu was currently just pissed off with her. Maybe she was boxblocking her friend on a matter of principle. And maybe she’d come off too strong…
…but on the other hand, MetaPharm was shady on multiple different levels. And if this guy owned it, he was someone she’d heard about several times. She certainly didn’t believe he measured up to what she’d want for her friend.
She lowered her voice. “Am I… in the way here?”
Before any answer could happen, Hank put drinks down on the table; her large wine, and a bottle of imported beer. “Hate to interrupt whatever that was,” he said. “So. Anyhow. We’ve talked plenty about me and what I do. What about you?”
She took a deep breath and promised herself she’d be civil.
“I’m a mechanic,” she said. “That’s not the job title, but it’s what it boils down to. I mostly service cars.” She picked up her glass. “Not the sort of job that turns into something you talk about.”
He nodded as if he was sympathetic to that idea. “So what do you want to be?”
“I don’t know if it exists,” she said, in a tone which said she was serious and had given this a lot of thought.
Which she had. She’d had basically this conversation, or at least this bit of it, a dozen times. “I don’t know if I want to do anything different or if I want the world around me to be different.”
“Well, you can only change one,” he replied. “Unless you want to join me selling my candidate, anyway.”
The wine tasted a little off, a hint of some processed, chemical flavour, but it was still good stuff and she’d just taken another pull when he dropped that last zinger. Faced with the prospect of a spit-take, she forced herself instead to gulp it down.
“Oh come on.”
He shrugged. “Sure, we disagree on what the world should be. We probably also disagree on our place in it. But I’m working to change it.”
“Into something worse.”
“See, I think…” He sat back and took a thoughtful pull at his beer. Michaela took a drink of her own, sitting back and looking questioningly at Lu. Lu was, to put it mildly, not the sort of person to stay quiet for all this, but somehow she still was.
“I think,” Hank continued, “that not only is it not that simple, it’s never been that simple.”
“Well, your guy is absolutely for sale for the highest bidder. How’s that democracy?”
“Look,” he said finally. “If you give me five minutes to talk you through this, right now, then I can guarantee you’ll vote for my candidate in the election.”
“Oh, OK. Enlighten me, then, o great one,” she riffed off sarcastically, shooting a glance at Lu, who still sat by with that same unshifting smile.
“Drink up,” he said, with a firmness to it that made it sound like the first step in his case. Michaela had her glass to her lips, her tongue filled with that half-wine, half-chemical flavour, before she realised what was happening. Lu, too, was draining her glass.
Both of their glasses hit the table at the same time, as if they were somehow synchronised. Both glasses were empty. Michaela was still swallowing down her drink, her head swimming.
Hank raised a hand in the air, looking away, and caught the eye of the barman, who nodded. Two new wineglasses were produced, already filled, and carried over.
So that was the difference between having money and not. He’d had someone prepared to provide drinks and play wingman to his trick.
Hank promptly produced a small bottle from his pocket. He unscrewed the cap, which had a dropper in it, and dripped three drops into each of their glasses.
He was spiking them.
Michaela opened her mouth to -
“Keep your voice down,” he said, his tone matter of fact, but his words all the same pitched as a command. Her outraged yell died in her throat.
“You’re drugging us?” she managed, instead.
Hank grinned and shook his head. “Take another big gulp, ladies.”
Well, of course not. How dare he even suggest it. But she found herself picking up her glass all the same. The chemical taste was clearer in this one. Her scalp tingled.
“No,” Hank continued. “I’m not drugging you. I’m treating you.”
Michaela and Lu set their glasses down in unison once again. Hank put his bottle away.
“This is illegal. You’re-”
Hank smiled and leaned forward with a startling focus. “It’s not about what I am, it’s about what you are. And you? You’re feeling drowsy,” he began.
“What?” she asked, staring at him in disbelief.
“You’re feeling drowsy,” he said again, his voice firm and low, and she felt an odd wave of dizziness wash over her. “Drowsy and confused. Feeling like you’re falling.”
“Falling?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her lips suddenly dry.
“Yes, falling… deeper and deeper… even as you find it harder and harder to tear away your gaze,” he presses forward.
She broke off, not sure what to say. It didn’t help that she was discovering he was right; his eyes filled her vision, and that seemed to be all there was to it. She tried again. “You- “
“I am hypnotising you, yes.”
“You’re hypnotising me?”
“You can already feel it, I know. Feel yourself pulled into my eyes… into my gaze… into my will.”
She could barely hear her own voice as she replied. “Into… your… eyes…”
She really couldn’t look away. She thought back through a hundred cheesy movies watched late at night with wine. Cartoons and TV shows from her youth.
So this is what it’s like…
His eyes filled her whole field of vision somehow. The chatter in the pub probably continued, but it wasn’t registering.
She couldn’t have felt more lost.
“Resisting is hard. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”
“Resisting… is hard?”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”
“Don’t worry… my pretty little head.”
“Good girl,” he said, and she flushed, thrilling inside. Why did that feel so good? Maybe it was a side effect of whatever he’d spiked her with.
“Politics is hard. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” he continued.
“Politics… is hard?”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”
“My pretty little head,” she echoed, hoping for another Good Girl of approval. But it didn’t come; she would have to do more.
“It feels good to have someone else to think about these things.”
No, she thought. “Yes…” she breathed.
“Don’t look away… but finish your drink.”
She reached out without thinking, raised her glass to her lips, swallowed it down hungrily. The tingles in her scalp now buzzed through her whole head.
“You can look away now… but not move or speak without prompting.”
She blinked reflexively. Her eyes took in his whole face again, seeing a smug, cocky smile on his lips. Her eyes darted around the pub – as much of it as she could take in without being able to turn her head. The impression must have been of her looking steadily back at him.
As steadily as Louise was.
Well, her drink spillage made more sense now.
“Just stay there,” he said, rising and heading to the bar. Evidently he’d only lined up one refill.
He came back with three glasses this time.
Instead of the dropper bottle, he produced a small pill box from his jacket pocket. He dropped something pink and octagonal into each of their glasses, which began to fizz vigorously.
He smirked broadly. “Now, girls, it’s time to do what you’re told. Pick up your glasses.”
Wordlessly, they did so. Their vine had stained a deep pink colour. This was clearly something which didn’t worry about subtlety.
As one, they raised their glasses to their lips and began to drink, swallowing steadily, their heads tilting back to accommodate the tilting of the glasses. She felt the pink fizzing liquid flooding her taste buds.
This couldn’t have been hidden; nothing had been done to mask or soften the sour flavour. Nobody would drink this of their own accord, but Michaela couldn’t stop herself if she tried.
This was clearly another drug; she wondered what it was for, but not too hard. She had someone else to think about these things.
She could still just see Lu’s face without turning her head when they’d lowered their glasses. Her lips had stained the same vibrant pink as the pill. Had her own?
Michaela’s glass settled back onto the table with a dull clunk. She noticed that her hand was still holding onto it, having not been told to release it.
Meanwhile the drug she’d been given was tickling hotly down her throat and in her belly, as if she could feel it taking effect on her.
“You two are going to come catch a taxi with me,” he told them. “Right?”
“Yes,” Michaela said simply. She heard Lu’s voice accompany hers with the same flat agreement.
“Alright. Grab your bags, leave the glasses, and follow.”
He rose and started walking. Watching herself hurry to follow, Michaela found herself thinking that it was like watching two girls get ready to leave in fast-forward. There was an urgency to their actions, but the actual steps were so rehearsed they were reflex actions. Her bag hung on her shoulder in exactly the same spot as ever.
She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the windows of the pub door. It was against the background of the dark wooden wall paneling and wasn’t entirely clear, but she could swear that her lips were not only pinker but somehow fuller.
Walking on autopilot gave her a lot of time to think about that as they approached the taxi rank. Lu was beside her, and technically she could probably turn her head now and look at her, get an idea of whether she was imagining changes, but her mind was trapped on following Hank, and doing that better.
Her scalp tingled with curiosity as they climbed into the taxi and Hank gave his address. Of course he lived in a gated community… secured away from the common folk. He probably needed that.
Nearing the gate, he flourished a keyfob and the heavy wrought iron parted to allow the taxi in.
Hank got out, and Michaela and Lu remained stationary. After a moment they heard him laugh to himself.
“Come along, girls, get out,” he said as he passed the taxi driver a note.
“Yes,” Michaela and Lu chorused. Perhaps the driver would find that odd? But Hank was telling him to keep the change, which took his focus firmly in another direction.
They climbed out of the taxi and stood as it left. Hank looked them both up and down, rubbing his hands and smirking with glee. Michaela felt her chest itch uncomfortably under his gaze, even in the golden tones of the slow summer sunset.
The gate hadn’t closed behind the taxi. Could she…?
For the first time since he’d rendered her unable to move, Michaela tried to do something on her own accord. She turned and began to stride for the gate.
It was working. She could do it. And once she was out of here, she could-
No no no no-
Her body came to an abrupt halt.
“Come with me,” he said. They agreed and followed as they had to.
Finally – finally? she thought, why do I seek his approval so? – their actions were rewarded with another “Good girls.”
That same shivering happiness rippled through her. She wondered if this was normal or what movies had taught her to expect.
The house was spacious but pretty sparsely decorated, the home of someone who didn’t really care about their home life. What there was, though, was clearly ridiculously expensive.
He stopped in the kitchen, and therefore so did they.
“Bags on the counter here,” he instructed. “And empty out your pockets.
Michaela watched as the contents mounted up, marvelling slightly that this was happening, that she really was watching from within her body, even as she still felt the aftereffects of the endorphins from his praise. After all, that WAS the logical explanation for what was fizzing through her, wasn’t it?
“No running away, you,” he instructed her. “Instead, both of you, look into each other’s eyes.”
They turned to comply. Michaela had never realised quite how deep a brown Lu’s eyes were before.
“See how deep your friend is,” he said. “Try to be deeper than her. Sink into one another.”
Things became vague and comforting. They stood like that for she didn’t know how long.
Some while later Michaela heard “Now both of you, look at me,” and while everything had become distant, even the warm tingle across her chest, that was clear as a bell and seemed almost entirely around her. She turned to face him, eyes watering as they suddenly ceased their unblinking gaze, and she was deeply enough sunk that the question of how long she had spent that way didn’t even occur.
Beside him, on the counter, were their purses and their phones, obviously deeply investigated. Had she told him her phone’s unlock code? Probably. Would she remember?
“OK, girls. First things first. Pick up your phones.”
Michaela watched abstractedly as her body did so. Was it her imagination or was her body more graceful when it moved under someone else’s order?
He pointed behind them, across the room. “Throw them over the balcony. Make sure you hear them splash into the river.”
The dim and distant thoughts Michaela was still just about processing took the entire walk to the balcony to realise that this was about cutting off any contact for them. That this was final confirmation of what she already suspected; this was to be permanent.
She drew back her arm and let fly, watching the glittering reflection of her phone’s screen as it tumbled end over end toward the depths, seeing Lu’s descend beside it, until she heard and saw the splashes.
Whatever Hank had gained from the phones, they were now useless and lost.
“Now. Both of you… this is important. Do not move at all until I spank you.”
She felt her body tense and lock into place. The breeze ruffled through her hair. A light came on above her as the balcony was illuminated and Hank stepped out beside them.
He had a pair of scissors, with which he began cutting Michaela’s hoodie from her unmoving body.
The blades never quite touched her skin, but she was very, very conscious of how close it was. Yet so deep was she that she didn’t even wish she could flinch; there was just a sense of calmness as, illuminated on his balcony, her and Lu’s clothes were cut away, leaving their nudity visible from the road… and the bridge across, if any motorist were to look to the side.
As he cut, he talked, and his words sank into their ripe, juicy minds, seeds sewn on ground he’d made fertile with his drugs and his hypnotic technique.
“Election’s coming, girls,” he told them. “I’ll spare you the details, because politics is hard, and you shouldn’t worry your pretty little head about it. But we’ll be in a better place, soon. I’ll have plenty more money coming in, so you’ll have better tools to keep me happy with.
“You agree, of course,” he paused to instruct them. Michaela felt the revulsion that had been building, the slow mustering of her thoughts for a counter-argument, disperse immediately. What Hank said just made so much sense.
He cut her bra strap and her breasts sprang loose. Feeling an unfamiliar weight, she wondered whether there was more to them than there had once been.
But she didn’t wonder for long, as he experimentally flicked her nipple piercing then tugged on it gently. A shocked sensation thrilled through her, halfway to delight if she could only register it.
“This sort of thing is much more your speed than politics,” he said. Michaela wanted to disagree, but it was so hard to go against what he said.
So hard for her pretty little head to muster resistance.
His hands were still on her breasts. It wasn’t the crude assault of an unsophisticated teenage boy, but it wasn’t what she expected of a lover, either. It was assessing, somehow.
“You’re rude, and you disagree,” he told her. “But that’s OK. You’re going to learn your place as pretty, obedient, ditzy decoration.”
She got halfway through what he’d told her and, suddenly, processing that idea was suddenly near-impossible. As she tried to make herself respond, all that escaped her lips was a giggle.
His face lit up in delight. “Learning already,” he purred approvingly.
He took up his scissors again. Cutting Lulu’s blouse off and dropping her bra into the river, he continued to talk.
“The time to do something better is coming,” he said. “Money is the new aristocracy. I mean, you probably already realised that. But once the Senator lets me go wild with this stuff? It’s going to be for real.
“Those who have the money will rule. Those who don’t will be loyal to their new lords.
“Won’t you?” he asked suddenly.
“Yes,” they chorused. After a few moments, his education percolating in their minds, they added, still in sync, “my Lord.”
He laughed. “Good girls.”
FUCK, but that felt so good.
“America the way it should be. Led by the wise, with their wives and their maids dutiful and obedient. Just the way life should be.”
In what little of Michaela’s mind still thought the way she wanted it to, she thought: Oh, he’s divorced. Suddenly this makes total sense.
The knife continued its work until both of them were stripped bare. He bundled up their clothes, weighted the fabric with their shoes, and tossed the whole thing into the river. He delivered swift, sharp slaps to their backsides, and she found herself capable of moving again.
“Alright. Both of you, go inside and stand either side of my TV, facing the room.”
They complied. Of course they complied; what else would they do? Lu had been fractionally closer to the door; Michaela saw how her hips had broadened, her ass firmed and ripened into something quite delicious, and even from behind her she could see the soft curve of her vastly developed chest.
That and the blonde shimmer to her once-dark hair told Michaela everything she needed to know about what the pink pill had done to her own appearance, although she found herself wanting to see for herself more than ever.
But she’d been told where to face. She stood with her hip slightly cocked, making the most of her new body with a grace and instinct that seemed to come from the very core of her hypnotised mind.
Their lord took up position on the opposite wall, facing them, and pulled out his phone.
“Smile,” he told them. “You’re good little maids.”
They smiled, of course. How could they not?
The light on his phone flashed and he grinned. “Now let’s see what Terry thinks,” he muttered as he fiddled with his phone.
He settled down on the sofa. “I bet he’ll want one of you,” he said.
It came to Michaela that she was no longer locked in place. That she could try, again, with effort, to flee.
But she didn’t seem able to work up any enthusiasm for the idea, and the whim passed.
Between her reduced mental state and the deep level of hypnosis she occupied, just thinking that through had taken an absurd amount of time. It finally occurred to her that Lu must be having a similar struggle.
However much time had passed to think this – and time didn’t seem to have much meaning – her lord’s phone was now ringing. Smirking at them both, he answered it.
“Hi, Terry. Yeah… the whole thing works like a charm. As you can see.
“So, I’m open to offers…”
He waited. “The one on the right?” It took Michaela an embarrassingly long time to realise that this meant her. “Five grand,” he said.
There was a pause and he smirked. “You can have her buddy for three.”
Another pause. “No, there’s nothing wrong with her friend. But blondie there really tore into me about my politics. I’m going to enjoy the fact she’s out promoting them when she’s not in here agreeing with everything I say.”
It pleased her, she found, that he would enjoy her. It was satisfying.
“Alright, sure. When I get the notification you’ve paid, you get her. For three grand she’s a steal.”
“Yeah, see you, man. You can collect her from the driveway.”
He hung up, tossing the phone aside, and rose, crossing to Lu where he murmured in her ear extensively.
“Yes, my Lord,” she answered, voice clear as a bell.
He grabbed her abruptly, one hand on her ass, one on her breast, pulled her in close and tight to a possessive, domineering, passionate kiss. Lu’s body melted against him, hungry, needy, dutiful. Even watching, Michaela felt something inside her respond. Eagerness dripped down her thighs.
Every word he’d dripped into their drugged ears had taken root.
It felt like she was changing even when he wasn’t really pressing it. Just a casual word was enough to alter her.
And she knew now that he loved that fact.
Even as Lu’s body responded to his possessive groping, Michaela’s mind responded to his possession. Her thighs squeezed together, nipples hardening, and, finding no prohibition against it, she moaned eagerly.
She could hear her lord chuckle in recognition of the sound. “Kiss each other,” he said, releasing Lu and stepping back to pick up his phone.
They turned to each other, stepping closer compulsively. She felt Lu’s arm slip around her waist as her own hand rose to touch her cheek and chin, fingertip-light, guiding her friend’s lips to her own. Their lips parted for one another as their bodies pressed against one another. A desire was kindling in Michaela and, she hoped, in Lu, a desire that was partly for the other maid and partly to please their lord.
Lu’s hand slipped down to her ass, squeezing eagerly as her other hand found Michaela’s willing breast. Michaela’s back arched into the contact, the pleasure electric across her nerves, and a greater hunger began to build in her mind and between her legs.
She could hear the camera function on her lord’s phone clicking away as they pushed each other’s pleasure as far as they could dare without command. Michaela found herself grateful for it; it was a reminder of what a maid’s first duty should be.
She adjusted her stance slightly, bringing her left foot and shoulder back to give her lord a better view of the kiss, of their entwined bodies, their building need…
Her lord’s phone chimed. “Enough,” he said. “Good girls, both of you. Off you go, Lu.”
As their lips parted, their eyes opened; the devotion and delight in Lu’s eyes as she responded “Yes, my Lord,” was visible solely to Michaela, who thrilled to the sudden realisation that this must be a mirror to her own.
Already she wanted to change more, to be more fully shaped.
To be even more her lord’s maid.
Fully nude, Lu walked from the room in the direction of the front door.
“She’ll belong to Terry by the time he arrives,” her lord told Michaela, from the sofa where he now sat. “You won’t, though. I’m keeping you. What do you think about that, huh?”
She riffled through her mind, trying to muster an opinion. But even if it hadn’t been specified as one, this felt like something that was hard, that she shouldn’t worry her pretty little head about.
“What should I think, my Lord?” she asked.
He looked nonplussed for a moment before laughing. “Come here,” he said, patting his lap.
She swayed toward him until she stood directly before the sofa. On an impulse she couldn’t fully explain, rather than be seated where he’d invited she instead planted one shin just to his left and the other to his right so that she straddled his lap facing him.
She could feel his erection through his pants, pressing to rise, pressing harder now she was against it. He reached down and cupped her there, lifting her and adjusting her position with a firm grip that sent spasms of pleasure through her. He resettled her a couple of inches back where she wouldn’t make him explode just by breathing steadily.
She realised suddenly that she was smiling with genuine happiness. And then her eyes met his, and everything else just fell back away.
“You want to know what to think?”
“Very much, my Lord.” It was purely the truth, said in a breathy rush. It would be so much easier to have thoughts put in her pretty little head than to create thoughts of her own.
“You’re developing very well,” he assured her, with a certain cockiness to his tone. “Your true desire is your lord’s pleasure.”
“Yes, my Lord.” The words were a reflex, but they tasted wonderful on her lips.
“The Senator must be elected.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
With her agreement, his hand tugged on one of her nipple rings and a jolt of excitement thrilled through her, a pattern that would repeat from that point on.
“Your old life is over, except to cast your vote one last time.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“You’re going to live with me, serve me, pleasure me.”
“Yes, my Lord,” she agreed with eagerness.
“You believe this?”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“Good. You have the makings of a very fine maid.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
She was the centre of a spreading dampness soaking his trousers.
“A fine maid does not simply serve her lord… she desires him.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“The only thing better than my cock in your pussy is my cock wherever else in you I want it.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
These all made perfect sense. Completely logical. None of them were things she could be argued out of believing. No, not believing – knowing.
“You’ll do well,” he smiled. “Better to serve me awake, though. So you’ll awaken as we kiss.”
Her heart leaped, though she couldn’t say why. Vision still filled by his eyes, she felt his fingers intertwine with her hair, taking hold confidently if gently.
He pulled her head down to his. Their lips met and parted. Her mind surged back to wakefulness on a tidal wave of arousal and need.
This man had opened her eyes to the brilliance of the politicians. He had taken pity on her and taught her how to be. He had prepared her for the life that was coming and remade her to enjoy it.
She had been drugged. Her body had been changed. She was hypnotised and under total control.
This must, she decided, be what love truly felt like.