A Willing Subject

Sarah got up, straightened out her dress and paced the room. Jennifer started to stroke Sam's neck with her fingertip.

"Right now it's all a bit physical for them. Heather has just got back from today's meeting. Safe to say it wasn't exactly the audition she was expecting. She's been recruited as this day."

"Your phone's going to ring, right about..."

The coffee table buzzed.

"Now."

Sam reached over and picked up. Jennifer intervened and tapped the 'speaker' icon. It was Heather's voice, husky and trying to compose itself.

"Sam, let me say what I've got to say..." He heard a deep sigh, reminiscent of when they made love.

'It can't be!' he thought. Jennifer and Sarah exchanged amused glances.

"...We, uh, have to end it. I, I've met someone else."

Sarah whispered in Jennifer's ear. "She's going down on her." Sarah's face lit up with surprise and pleasure.

"...It's really special. I can't explain it, honey." There were soft gurgling sounds just audible through the phone.

Heather's voice quivered. "I'm so sorry. You can hate me if you want. I can't do anything about how I feel right now."

Sam knew exactly what she meant. He was desperate to tell her it wasn't real, and that they were caught up in something, but Sarah had all the angles covered. He would concede defeat in this battle.

"OK." It was all Sam could say. Heather moaned and Sarah hung up. "Let's leave them to it shall we? Disciplin empowers women to the point where they fall in love with the feminine force that lives inside every one of them. Eventually men just fall by the wayside I'm afraid."

"I'm thinking you're kinda shell-shocked...I reckon we should all clean up. A good shower will help."

'All?' Sam wondered internally. In the swampy heat of the room he was stumbling through a thick tangle of thoughts. To the girls it looked like he was falling into some kind of catatonic state. Sarah grabbed his arm. "Don't worry Sam - we've got a plan for you."

She hauled him up. Jennifer propped him up while Sarah wriggled out of her dress, and then Jennifer peeled off her swimsuit. The bathroom had a huge shower that could have fitted five, let alone three.

"Let's take your mind off it." Jennifer whispered as the hot water began to fall. Her skin glowed as she slid her hands over her breasts. Sarah lifted Sam's arm over her shoulder and lowered her mouth to his nipple. Sam had been unresponsive, cloaked in numbness, while internally he was mining a stark landscape for some kind of plan. Yet, when Sarah's tongue swept across his nipple pleasure came rushing to the surface. Jennifer caught his sigh with her mouth, her plump lips and slippery tongue assaulting him, wearing him down with arousal.

Sarah looked up at him from his chest. "CLASP" It was the command that sent his passion into overdrive and wrenched him from the grip of reason. It jarred his body, and when he opened his eyes again Sarah was kissing his chest, as Jennifer probed his ear with her tongue in way that made him feel open and vulnerable. His hips were bucking and his groin was tightening with every lap and caress.

In his duress, Sam had a vision of his arousal. He was climbing a hot slippery pink peak in his mind. When he felt a tongue or finger swipe across his body he would take another step towards the summit, which rose in front of a dusky rouge sky. And yet with every step the peak was more distant, revealing hidden heights to his desire.

He clenched his eyes shut, overwhelmed, but still under the illusion that he had some control left. His body remained motionless and passive until he felt soft, cool skin pushing against both thighs. Beneath him were the white, heart-shaped contours of Jennifer's butt, climbing, making its slippery way towards his rigid cock. She had bent over, bringing her head lithely to her knees, as she continued to stretch her legs out. They extended and the valley between her cheeks made slick contact with the underside of Sam's cock, forcing it up to his belly.

She then rocked on her tip-toes, grinding into Sam, who remained statuesque and absent, his mind climbing that pink mountain. Sarah brought one hand down his back and between dabbed kisses, began to whisper into his ear.

"She's ready for you, Sam."

"All you have to do is push."

"You can have her."

"Prove you're a man to me, Sam."

"Yes Miss." Sam responded without even realising the deference he was showing.

Jennifer's soft ass continued to slip up and down his cock, making his body shudder, but when her pussy came into contact with his shaft she would also pull away for a moment and lower herself before moving back in an another cycle

A crazed desperation overcame him. He yearned to reach the peak and was ready to try anything to get there. He resolved, drunkenly, to do just what these women wanted him to do so they might leave him in peace. If he could just fuck her, that might prove that he's the man here. He'd be asserting his male dominance like some kind of beast, showing her who's really in charge.

Jennifer's pussy had just rubbed against the slippery underside of his cock, and she had pulled away, ready to dip down and return to his upper thighs when Sam's hands seized her hips. He pulled her into position and with a brutal thrust, rammed his cock into her opening. Jennifer shrieked.

All Sam wanted now from life was to come, and he used Jennifer's swollen pussy to get there as quickly as possible.

Jennifer sensed his wild arousal and was sent tumbling towards orgasm. It took no more than a few seconds; he was so hard, his thrusts so rhythmic and his passion so bestial. Sam fired her into raptures, and when one orgasm subsided, new whimpers and screams echoed around the stately bathroom. Sam was wearing blinkers. Nothing mattered but his ascent to that distant summit.

When Jennifer was sated she collapsed to the floor of the shower, and Sarah's slimmer body bent over to take her place. Sam could no longer hear her commands. He just knew that she wanted what he wanted - for his cock to pump in and out of her pussy, harder and faster until he could feel her slick juices easing his path up that slope.

As he fucked Sarah she shouted something that took a few repetitions before he understood.

"You can't come! You can't come until I tell you."

It was a mantra that she recited with a voice buckling beneath her excitement. He felt her cunt tighten around his cock, building to a last orgasm that trailed a harrowing delay and arrived with a piercing shriek. She was finished, but Sam was not done.

Joining Jennifer in a languid pile on the floor Sarah reminded Sam that one word now controlled his passion. "I won't say it. I'll probably never say it.", she told him with a smirk. Sam's instinct was to grab his cock, but he couldn't coordinate his hand to get himself off. Every frantic attempt met with amusement from the women beneath him. Panic gripped him, "you bitches!", but the women only laughed louder. The laughter poured into his mind, filling every sense until he could hear nothing, feel nothing and see only the pink, slippery peak that needed to be climbed.

In the distance he could make out Sarah's tired voice, "Did we get that on tape?"

6

It was dark when Sam woke. He was dry, cloaked in warmth that made him wriggle his fingers and toes in comfort as he stretched. As consciousness approached he sensed his hardness, as well as something tight against his skin on his left wrist. He touched it and it felt rubbery. When he opened his eyes he saw a blue wristband with a small display and arcane numbers. He tried to get a finger underneath, but couldn't budge it.

"There you are!" Sam was on the couch. "We wondered when you were going to wake up. You fucked yourself into a coma, Sam." Sarah said with a warm smile that didn't match her words. She noticed his confusion.

"Oh, that's a little gift from us. See we can't keep you against your will, and you've got a life to get back to."

"You, you...mean it?" Sam asked groggily.

"Yes, of course. That's something to remember us by. It'll keep track of where you go, amongst other things." Sam automatically looked forward to cutting it off his wrist.

"But be careful with it. Don't try do something silly like try to cut it off your wrist or you'll get a horrible electric shock. I don't know, it might be lethal." She was wearing a frown that didn't seem genuine.

At that moment Sam didn't care. He wanted to flee and sprang up to get his clothes from the bedroom. Ideas of leaving the country or calling the police flashed into his head as he changed. First he needed to get away and organise his thoughts.

"It's corny but true: 'If you love something set it free. If it comes back, it was, and will always be yours.'"

"Ah, so sweet." Jennifer cooed from the other room, ever jovial.

Sam made no eye contact with either woman as he left, repeatedly tapping the button for the lift and facing only the closed metallic doors. As they parted, Sarah told him, "Don't be a stranger. I know you won't."

He didn't look up as the doors clicked shut. The lift descended and he danced impatiently, desperate to get past the concierge and out of the building. Finally he was out on the street in the cool evening air. He wanted to be nowhere else but the safety of his room. On the tube he rubbed the stubble on his chin and tousled his hair. He felt scarred, dirty and used. He kept his head down and counted down the stops.

Once home he slipped silently into bed without eating, and he woke in the early morning just before the sun came up. He tried to make plans to avoid human contact for a few days, sealing himself off until graduation in a couple of weeks.

Graduation, a landmark in a life that had only been interrupted by a day, but now felt as irrelevant as if it belonged to a different time in history.

Sam phoned work to take the week off, and sat on his bed in a daze. The curtains were drawn and Heather's things were scattered here and there. He needed time to work out how to get her back. They had both been coerced into this - he simply had to find a way to get that message across to her and break the spell between her and Siobhan. He couldn't call her yet. He couldn't do anything yet but sit and think.

The few people who saw Sam in those days before he disappeared worried he had either started taking hard drugs or lost his mind. There was a dimness to his complexion, behind which Sam was in deep concentration. The visions that had begun in the hotel became ever realer, as if they were being projected onto his sight, and the external world was just background. He wanted to go to the police, but worried about the wristband, realised how nuts his story might sound, how unreliable he would appear in his current state. He'd probably end up sectioned.

He was constantly turned on, and it made him more withdrawn, but he didn't dare try to relieve it. Not yet; not until he was sure he could finish. He had to lay low and burrow down until he was sure Sarah's power had worn off.

After a couple of days another problem began to take shape. It began with discomfort, and he would shift his legs and try to ignore it. But slowly the transformation became undeniable: His balls were growing, not just by the day but by the hour. He wondered if he had truly lost it, but his testicles felt heavy, and when he inspected his genitals it would be difficult to grasp them with his hand.

When he wore trousers the bulge embarrassed him, but they continued to expand to become visible through his trousers. By Tuesday, three days after leaving the hotel, he had stopped going out.

He sensed the wristband was responsible. This device made him feel like a prisoner on day release. When he tried to decipher the values on the display he found a connection between larger numbers and his own desire, which would flare up involuntarily throughout the day. They were seizures that would grip him, and make him feel like he was capable of anything. When he came to he would be racked with anxiety about what was happening. All he could ever recall was that slippery peak, Sarah and Jennifer.

Barely discernible above the chaos an idea arose in his mind. The word that Sarah had programmed into him that would let him come - if he could just remember it maybe he could say it aloud and end this nightmare. He spent a day shouting random words in his room, yelling at his friends to go away when they knocked on his door. "I'm OK, ju- just exercising my voice. I'll be done soon."

Soon he stopped sleeping at night. Sarah would be in the room with him, doing nothing more than watching him with those made-up eyes in that knowing way, plunging him deeper into a well of madness. In brief clear moments he tried to work out how to save himself. He thought he was going to die. Only one person could stop it.

And when he thought of Sarah and how she had outfoxed and how she had used him, he felt like he could explode. But the sense of building pressure only ever intensified without relief. The build-up was spiritual as much physical; as if he was being persecuted by his arousal, hounded out of a normal life. He wished he could guess the word that would allow him to release.

Only Sarah knew it. Only Sarah could save him.

A Thursday morning at 3 a.m., five days after being set free, Sam finally caved. He had to go back to Sarah. When he finally admitted this fact the tension left his body. He booked a cab and slumped in the back like a cheerful drunk.

London through his eyes was like oil on water, a cascade of light and colour, all dominated by an electric pink glow. Like a drone senses where it has to go, Sam looked out of the window and saw a beam of pink light rising to the sky from his destination. He could have got there on foot in his stupor.

"Just follow the raunchy pink glow." he told the driver, drunk with joy.

"Yeah, yeah mate. You're absolutely battered aren't you?"

The cabbie wished him good luck with his hangover as he dropped him off and Sam, after a nod from the man behind the desk, ascended the tower to Sarah's suite. Looked like everybody knew he'd be back.

And when the doors opened and the suite's hot and scented air hit him he collapsed.

7

Sam regained consciousness in what looked like a large laboratory, with white walls and bare lighting. He was reclining in something like a dentist's chair. He tried to move his limbs, but they were restrained and buckled down. To his left was a black globe that looked something like an out-sized helmet, and connected to that were lengths of shiny black tubing that ran to a large white unit with a touch-screen display. He was in deep trouble and he didn't care.

"Goodness, they're like oranges." Sarah cackled from the right. She was talking about his genitals. She couldn't have been referring to anything else. Sam was naked and had undergone a change and blushed at the attention.

"I bet you know what caused it.", she was twisting the blue wristband between her thumb and forefinger.

"You were absorbing a new version of the Discip1in drug we've been developing. You're our guinea pig I'm afraid. See there's a lot that we don't know about male sexuality. What we are aware of is that it can be manipulated to bend men to our will. We've always known this, but now we want to perfect the process."

She laid a smooth hand on Sam's stubbly cheek.

"Now to do that we need to know what turns you on and why. But there's lots we can find out from your semen too. We're going to make you orgasm every few minutes - don't worry you can take it now - and we'll collect every drop you spurt."

Her eyes widened when she said "spurt". She now had the aspect of a boardroom villain, all formal and cold. The old image of that coquettish girl who made passes at him at college could have been from another lifetime.

"It was easy to get you to submit, but right now we've only got a cottage industry here. We want to move it into mass production. The goal is to get men under control so they stop killing everyone. It's the only hope for humanity. Men need to be under the loving heel of our boot, but it's only now that we're learning how to keep them there."

She leaned across and pulled the sphere over Sam's head. With a mechanical whir and click it fastened onto something on the chair, leaving Sam blind and at Sarah's mercy. He could feel a single fingernail running along his chest.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes"

"Yes what?"

"Yes Miss"

Something was passed over Sam's penis. It felt like a sleeve. He heard her nails clicking over the dimples on the tube.

"Try to relax and let it happen. Otherwise it's going to be a lot worse. I'm off now, but we've got a couple of technicians who will be in charge for the next few weeks."

"There's not much else to say, but welcome to your new life. This chair will be your home a long time. Get comfy."

Sam's arms twitched against the restraints, as if toying with the idea of breaking free, but he had submitted long ago. The time to escape was the night he first entered the hotel. Because now he had no hope.

"Are you ready? Let's crank this thing up."

Sam heard what sounded like a vacuum, and in an instant felt the sleeve grip his cock. This noise was drowned out by music emanating from within the sphere, which gained depth and power. It sounded like the video of Heather, Siobhan and all those other women descending into an orgy. Slowly he could make out figures in the darkness, but couldn't tell if they were being wired into the helmet or were generated by his own mind.

They felt like his fantasies piled on top of each other; being forced down to give head to a selfish former girlfriend; being fucked with a strapon by a lecturer he fancied; and Sarah, smug and dressed up, cooking up some other scheme; Jennifer's broad smile. She was mouthing the commands "Rock-Hard", "Glide" and "Clasp".

Soon he was being bombarded by a melange of sights, sounds and smells, all generated by the contraption that had attached itself to him. He felt his ankles and wrists twisting and straining against the straps and his cock being pumped with a rhythm that tracked the cacophony filling the sphere.

Within minutes it became too much. He was overwhelmed for so long that he lost track of who he was; his name, his former life, family, dreams and fears. He existed only to feel this.

He rocketing up that slippery pink slope and the peak was finally in sight. He flew towards it, breathless, bold and ready. He saw Heather and Siobhan watching him as they kissed, Jennifer's curvy ass cajoling him to enter. And then, when he had been left lingering on the final climb for an eternity the word shuddered to his core.

"R---"

It warmed him inside like a hot drink, but the heat accelerated on its path and kept spreading. Sam's cry began deep within chest and tore through his larynx, but he couldn't hear it above the noise in the helmet. He continued to cry out as each contraction fired a viscous white jet of semen into the contraption on his cock to be stored and evaluated.

He scrambled to the summit, looked around to survey the landscape, and saw he was at the foot of another peak, yet larger. He had no time to rest; he was already on his way up the next mountain, delirious and happy.