I can make people do things

I guess the karma makes sense. If I could do anything I wanted for myself I would go crazy with wealth and power. Where would it end?

----------

Magic Elixir started as a party joke. It wasn’t even mine. A buddy from a bar I worked had this drink he made called Magic Elixir that could make you do anything he asked. Of course, I couldn’t resist having some fun with it. If my buddy had some girls in the kitchen at a party that dared take the dare, sometimes they would be staggered that the elixir actually worked. Frankly so would my buddy.

If he asked two completely non-lesbian girls to french-kiss, and they did it, each party would think the other was playing a trick.

All sorts of crazy things happened. Girls took off their panties, guys drank from chili bottles, girls shaved their own pussies, guys their own eyebrows. People admitted their true love and girls confessed whether they took it in the ass or not. Boys kissed boys and girls fucked themselves with fruit and veg.

I kept it random enough to confuse my buddy and his players. If it was too outrageous, I kept out of it. No one fucked anyone, and no one admitted to anything that would cause trouble. If it was controversial, I kept my persuasion out of it. However, if it involved a girlfriend letting everyone watch her boyfriend see how many fingers he can fit in her pussy, then what’s the harm, right?

By the way, an innovative trick on that one, a guy did it, surprising me. You can fit more fingers if you use two hands. Six fingers, three from each hand, fits easier than four from one hand. A handy tip for getting more fingers up a vagina!

People started taking phone videos and it turned into a bit of a YouPorn sensation. Of course, when you see these things online you think ‘bullshit’, right? Someone drinks a drink and then does what they are told? It’s clearly fake. But the reactions were often suspiciously real. When a girl who hates giving blowjobs suddenly swallows, when a guy throws their phone into a swimming pool, or when a girl admits to having lost her virginity to her ex-boyfriend’s father, those people react strongly after I turn off my persuasion. They are horrified by what they did or said. No matter how faked those videos seem, the emotion afterward made even the viewers wonder is-this-real?

My buddy and his drink became much sought after, for all sorts of purposes. Of course, if I wasn’t around, it didn’t work. Even if I was, it only sometimes worked. It kept the poor guy baffled or delighted, depending on the day.

Because the main performer wasn’t me, and because it was mostly just a silly porn trick, I didn’t worry too much about gaining attention. But as usual I made a mistake. Apparently, everyone should know Belinda Barrington. Just not me. She is a weather-girl famous for her Puritan lifestyle. She is the poster-child for beauty, brains and ethics. I seriously had no idea. She was just another babe, mid-late twenties. Super gorgeous for sure, but so are a lot of girls. We were at a ten-year high school reunion at a table-tennis hall of all places. Other sports halls wouldn’t allow normal shoes or heels, but the table tennis community club were fine with it. My buddy brought a batch of his drink in a big thermos bottle and was mucking around with it at different times of the evening. Late, late at night, with most people gone, that Belinda girl was going off at my buddy for being a sleaze. She had come as the cousin of one of our old classmates, and was being more outspoken than I thought a guest, an outsider, should be. As a skeptic she took the challenge. I was watching and couldn’t help myself. My buddy asked her to undress and fuck herself with a 16oz full bottle of coke. Without hesitation she did it, stripping sensually. And she nailed herself with the bottle. Every bit of it fit inside. She fucked the hell out of herself. I threw in an orgasm, a moaning, whining, burst-out-in-tears-of-ecstasy orgasm that shook her for minutes.

A dozen people had a dozen phones out recording her having naked sex with herself.

I had no idea how big it would become so quickly. The video was national by lunch the next day. It was a colossal fuck up. I had to keep my mind with poor Belinda in case she did something silly to herself. It was a week before I felt safe enough to think about anyone else other than her. In the end she was okay. Her channel’s ratings went through the roof and her long-time boyfriend surprised her by proposing on air to show he supported women’s sexuality. Good on him.

My buddy didn’t fare well. An overzealous food and beverage department seized his drink for analysis, and he was arrested for supplying a hallucinogenic without license or permission. Even when the analysis showed nothing but grenadine, Curacao, nutmeg and cough medicine they didn’t back off. He was convicted with a suspended sentence to never again dish out his Magic Elixir.

I’d almost got past the incident when about six weeks later I was called in for a job interview for a bar role that I couldn’t remember applying. The hourly rate sounded better than my place, so I half-hoped it might be a strip-joint.

The agency was on the 3rd floor, up the stairs and down the hall. As soon as I walked in, I knew I’d fucked up.

Thump in the stomach. Doubled over. Dragged to a chair that was bolted to the floor. One foot was handcuffed to its thick metal structure. And what’s worse, I couldn’t persuade the thug to stop.

“Who the fuck are you?”

The guy didn’t answer. Thin, fit, strong; he was well-dressed for a brute.

Behind me the door to the hall opened and a lady walked in. Super stylish, she carried herself confidently, like she knew something you didn’t. I guessed her age around seventy. Just as I thought that, she asked me the same question.

“How old are you?”

“What?”

“How old are you?”

“Who the fuck are you?”

I looked at the tough guy and willed him to belt her in the stomach like he did me. The guy stood there, not moving.

“What the fuck?”

The elegant lady came in close. She felt safe.

“How old are you, son?”

“Twenty-eight! Fuck! What do you want?”

She stepped back and nodded.

“Twenty years. That will do.”

“Who the fuck are you?” I willed her to tell me, but she didn’t.

“You’ve a lot to learn about defense. You’ve been playing alone. It’s dangerous to be unprepared.”

“For what?”

The elegant lady didn’t answer. She pulled out a big phone.

“This video,” she said, showing the clip from the night of poor Belinda’s public, self-generated orgasm. “What do you see?”

“A hot chic?”

“Hmmm. Most people. Yes. That’s why they were all filming her, don’t you think?”

“I think you’re right,” I said acerbically.

“Do you like girls?” the lady asked.

I looked to the guy next to me. Was this a sex thing that was happening?

“Yes!” I said loudly and clearly.

“Hmmm,” the elegant lady said. “Because I’ve looked through all the different versions of this video. All the different vantage points that people were filming from.”

“It’s you that likes girls?” I quipped.

The elegant lady ignored me.

“In all the movie clips, only one person doesn’t have his phone up filming it. Only one person is just watching. You.”

“I didn’t have my phone,” I shrugged. “Out of battery.”

“That’s one possible explanation,” she said, pulling a chair in front of me and sitting. “You see, at first we thought it was the guy with the magic drink.”

“Magic Elixir,” I corrected her.

“But when we pressed him, nothing,” she said, ignoring me.

“Pressed him?”

“But it didn’t make sense did it? Belinda Barrington would not undress and masturbate publicly regardless of what was in that drink. Which of course was nothing.”

I said nothing. This was going in a bad direction.

“But,” the lady continued, “then there’s you. In the background. Just watching. Concentrating.”

“So?”

“So, when you tried to get him to punch me just now, I found out for sure who you are. It didn’t take much, I have to say. You are terribly unprepared.”

“Who the fuck are you?” How did she know I could do what I do?

“Who do you most worry about?” she asked seriously.

“CIA. FBI. KFB. Mafia. IS. Or any other nutter group like that lot,” I answered seriously.

“Good,” she nodded. “At least you’re not completely stupid. Until this Barrington stunt.” she chided me.

I shook my head. “I had no idea who the fuck she was.”

“What rock do you live under? Who doesn’t know Belinda Barrington?”

“Me! And I don’t know who the fuck you are either.”

“You swear too much.”

The elegant lady stood and walked to the window, looking out.

“Who are you, madam, may I enquire?”

“And I don’t care for your childish humor.”

“Well then you can go fuck yourself, can’t you.”

Thump.

“Owww!! Stop it. You’ll damage me! You fucker.” I stayed doubled over to protect myself from another hit.

“Who are your parents?”

“Huh?”

“Who are your parents?”

“Real or adopted?” I grunted.

“You’re adopted? That explains why you’re alone.”

“I’m not alone.”

The elegant lady laughed. “Oh yes you are. Very much. One of the very last standing.”

I looked up at her irony, sitting doubled over as I was.

“I need your help,” she continued.

“Who are you?” I asked for the tenth time. The elegant lady came and sat back down.

“I’m the same as you.”

I looked at the strong, fit guy and back to her.

“What’s that mean?”

“I can make people do things.”

“And what about him?”

“No. He’s my helper.”

I nodded, not sure if I was relieved to find others like me or terrified. Given the lock on my leg, I chose the latter.

“What do you care about me?”

“You know how dangerous you are. If someone had you, they could do anything.”

“You have me.”

“Then its lucky I’m one of you.”

“What do you want?”

“I need to train you.”

“Why? What for?”

“Try and get me to do something.”

“I already did.”

“Doesn’t work, right? You and I are not just able to make others do things; we can defend people against it.”

“Only one at a time?” I asked.

The elegant lady nodded.

“Yes. Only ever one at a time.”

“Defense,” I said, thinking out loud.

“You’ve never needed it right?”

“I didn’t think there were any others. He’s not one, right?”

“No.”

“So if you block him from me, you yourself are open?”

The elegant lady smiled and nodded.

“You wanna try?”

Without asking I went into persuasion mode; him, her, him, her, back and forth. The elegant lady swapped her blocks faster than I could move. It was like the end of The Matrix when Keanu learned to move so fast everything around him was slow motion.

“How the fuck...?”

“Training. And am I right to say you’ve never been able to make money for yourself either?” she asked.

“Oh you can tell?” I said sarcastically, pulling at my ratty pants. “Nor pull a babe. It always goes wrong.”

“I can fix all of that,” the elegant lady told me. I looked at her suspiciously. No one did something for nothing, not even me. Even the joy I give boys and girls sexually is as much for my own gratification as theirs.

“And why would you do that?” I asked, pointing at my chains.

“I need your help.”

----------

There was a girl I worked with called Liz. I’d never messed with her before. I’d not made her flirt with anyone, nor anyone do anything with her. I’d legitimately tried to subtly hint we go out on a date a few times, but she never bit. There was talk of a boyfriend but no one ever saw him, he didn’t come in to the bar.

Liz dressed flirtatiously, but wasn’t flirtatious. Sheep in wolf’s clothing, I heard a guy say once. Her flared check mini-skirts and white shirts were classic tease. Long brown hair tied to the side, cute, great body, just a little bit shorter than me, smiley, happy - she was special enough to leave alone from any games I played with people.

But now it was for myself. The big test. I’d had a few practice-runs with strangers, just simple touching or undressing, and nothing seemed to go badly. I got the panties off and fingered a stunning babe on the dance floor with her boyfriend nearby. He hadn’t come flying over to belt me. I sat next to a young woman in a short dress on the bus who took off her panties and handed them to me. She dipped her finger into her pussy, then licked her juices clean. Back and forth, over and over. When it was her stop, she stepped over me and let me hold her bare ass. She left without her underwear and nothing bad happened to me. It seemed different.

So, I dared take a run at Liz.

The first thing was to get the boss to schedule us on the last shift together. Rarely did he have girls close the bar late at night. It wasn’t our place was a problem, ours was a wonderful, friendly beer and cocktail bar, but you always worried about the girls getting to their car or to the train after midnight.

I put our shift on a Thursday, busy but not too busy. By ten at night it was just us two and a dozen customers.

“Hey, can you help me?” Liz asked.

“Yeah.”

“Through here.”

There was a small storeroom at the end of the bar, not big but well lit.

“Is there a tag or something in here. It’s scratching me badly. Can you look?”

Liz turned and lifted the back of her skirt, pulling her panties out at the back.

“Along the hem. Is something there? I can’t feel it with my hands, but it’s scratching my skin.”

I ran my hands on the inside of the rear of her pants. She jumped as my knuckles touched the bare skin of her gorgeous ass, but didn’t stop me.

“I can’t feel anything.”

“Okay, thanks,” she sighed, going back out.

A few minutes later she said, “Can you look again? Something is driving me mad, like a little prickle or burr.”

We went into the storeroom. Again, I couldn’t feel anything.

“Oh, god. I’ve got to take them off. It’s driving me crazy. Do you mind? Are you going to be upset if I work without panties?” she asked.

I shrugged. “If it’s that bad, sure, take them off. And I won’t tell if you let me look at your ass occasionally?”

“Oh, they have to come off. It’s driving me mad,” she said, ignoring me.

Liz ripped her underwear down her legs and stepped out of them. She picked them up and searched for what was stuck there.

“Keep them in here,” I suggested, opening a drawer.

“Thank you,” she said. “Don’t tell the boss. He’ll kill me.”

For the next thirty minutes we worked with electricity in the air. Knowing she had bare pussy under that tiny little skirt was amazing. Liz could feel the naughtiness of it too, even without my persuasion. I kept asking her to get up the ladder to clean the top shelf and she would pretend to get ready, but pull out, laughing.

“Let me look,” I whispered after she gave a guy two Manhattans.

“What you wanna look at?”

“Do you shave?”

“What do you care?”

“Do you?” I asked again.

Liz looked at me cheekily. I could see she was getting in to the fun of it, but wasn’t keen to cross a line. I gave her a nudge.

“Not all of it.”

“Huh? What’s that mean?” I asked, laughing. “You smoke but don’t inhale?”

“It’s means...”

“Show me.”

“I can’t do that here.”

“Let me touch. Then?”

Liz surprised herself by saying “Okay, but don’t let anyone see you do it.”

I shifted to stand next to her. I slowly ran my hand up the back of her thigh and gripped her bare ass.

“I don’t shave there,” she whispered, giggling.

I moved my hand between her legs from behind. Bare flaps. I pushed under, there was a tiny little bit of hair on her mound, but her vagina was entirely smooth. I pushed a finger in, drawing out wetness then placing it back inside her.

“Do you like being fingered?” I asked.

“Sometimes,” she said truthfully, parting her thighs.

A guy waved from the other end of the bar. Liz went off to serve him. He took his drinks back to a table. There was no one left sitting directly at the bar.

“Take your skirt off,” I told her.

Without thinking, Liz unbuttoned, unzipped and dropped her miniskirt to the floor. I picked it up. Her shirt was cut straight. It just covered her pussy hair but you could see her slit. At the rear, the bottom of her cute little ass was showing. Liz carried herself normally, as if she was still dressed. As the senior, I asked her to wash cups, polish glasses, restock the bar fridges, wipe the bar.

“You are super gorgeous like that,” I had to say. I couldn’t take my eyes off her beautiful thighs. Just for a moment I let her go, let her realize she had nothing on bottom.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even know I had no... I’m so sorry.”

Liz tried to cover herself up with her hands.

“Hey, it wasn’t you. It was me. I did it as a joke. I was trying to be sneaky and undo them as you were concentrating on the glasses. But I thought you were teasing me back by pretending not to notice I undressed you. You seriously didn’t know I was sneaking your skirt off?”

“No!” she squealed, then quietened, conscious we still had some customers over by the windows.

“Wow.”

“I can’t believe you did that!” she whispered.

“You’re not happy?”

“No, I mean I can’t believe you can do that. You must be the world’s best pickpocket. Where’s my skirt?”

“Bit late to want that. I’ve been staring at your pussy for fifteen minutes. Hardly any point to cover up now.”

“The customers!”

“Are over there.”

“I can’t stay like this!”

“Why not. You look gorgeous without pants. I love your ass.”

Liz wasn’t freaking, but neither was she buying into staying undressed. I needed to push a little more.

“Don’t think about it. Think about something else.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Tell me which movie star you would like to fuck.”

“Oh, that’s easy. Keanu Reeves.”

“Isn’t he too old?”

“He can use Viagra,” Liz laughed.

Without thinking she undid her bottom shirt buttons and tied the bottom half of the shirt around the mid-riff. She was entirely exposed from the waist down.

“Wow, you look great. Your ass looks great.”

“Thank you.”

A guy came to the bar, two more Manhattans.

“Holy shit,” he said as Liz served him bottomless, moving around freely behind the bar to get ingredients.

“My girlfriend,” I told him. “Sometimes after eleven if it’s quiet...she puts on a bit of a show.”

“Shit. Not bad.”

“There you go,” Liz said, smiling.

“Can I take a photo?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Liz shrugged.

I put my arm around her as the guy took a photo of us smiling, Liz with her half-shaved pussy in full view.

“Thanks.”

His girlfriend was back at the table waiting. He didn’t tell her why the delay.

Liz spent the last of opening time moving around as she was. I gave the same reason to anyone who came and ordered their drinks and no one was upset. It was the most surreal night I’d had in my life - which is saying something. I’ve created some bizarre situations in my time but this one was close to home, with a girl I adored.

As the clock neared twelve, I called last drinks. Liz posed for more photos as those people left. She was smiling and happy that people said her ass and pussy were fantastic. I let her out from behind the bar to lock the door behind them.

Letting go of her mind, I casually asked her to clear the all the tables that had been used. She froze, gripping the door lock.

“I am so sorry. I’m going to get fired.”

“For what?”

“For this!”

“I don’t think anyone minded.”

“You must think I’m a complete slut.”

“Why? You look gorgeous. It’s late. There are no kids in here. Your ass is stunning. You’re more likely to get promoted than fired.”

“You’re not upset with me?”

“Hardly!”

“I’ve never done this, I swear.”

I was washing a huge Lebanese cucumber from the fridge with hot water to warm it up.

“Can I fuck you with this?” I asked, holding it up.

“What?”

“Liz, your pussy is gorgeous. It would be nice to see what it looks like being fucked.”