Power in the Wrong Hands

I've enjoyed several stories in the Mind Control section here. The ones I like the best are those where the person being controlled are fully aware of what's happening, but they are unable to do anything about it. Maybe it's because I'm a sick bastard, but I always laugh when an asshole is forced to do something that they despise, all while knowing that they are doing it, why they are doing it, and regretting their choices that caused their predicament. Those stories where the victim has their brains washed to accept their new life just seem to lack any sense of regret or real vengeance. Sure, the person controlling their mind gets a bit of satisfaction from turning a hated enemy into a mindless bimbo, but where is the understanding by the victim that they are actually being punished?

So, here is my first contribution to this genre. Sorry, but our 'hero' is not an overly nice person. In fact, she's kind of a bitch. Then again, would a really nice person use powers given to them for vengeance or good? Would a good person use mind control to change an asshole into a decent person, or would they use it to fuck the asshole over? Sorry. I'm getting a little philosophical here. Speaking of philosophy, continue reading for a couple more questions to ponder.

Disclaimer: This is fiction. It isn't real. Every word written here came straight from the darkest depths of my warped mind. All characters were created, molded, and developed from the cesspool of my imagination. As far as I know, no real person lives in my imagination, so they cannot escape into the real world. No one under the age of 18 is engaging is any sexual activities. If you imagine that there might be children in the vicinity, they are all busy with other things and are unable to see, hear, smell, or otherwise detect any nudity, sexual activity, or violence. There is some incest in this story.

Incest, Mind Control, Homosexuality, forced homosexuality, non-consent, lesbian, forced lesbian, and probably a few other screwed up, twisted and warped things. Read at your own risk.

Spoken words will be in normal text. Thoughts will be italicized.

Power in the wrong hands:

So, here I am pondering a couple interesting questions. Sorry, I can't help it. Blame it on my philosophy professor. No, I'm not a philosophy major. Well, not exactly. My major is actually Criminal Justice. Technically, that its. In reality, I am pre-law. I want to be a lawyer. That should really terrify you. I'll get to that in a minute. Anyway, the questions I am pondering as I watch the disgusting display before me are: Does absolute power actually corrupt absolutely, and does great power really come with great responsibility? You see, just the fact that I am questioning those thoughts should make people nervous about me becoming a part of the justice system.

First off, does absolute power corrupt absolutely? Suppose that the person given absolute power was already corrupted? If they are already corrupted before getting that power, did the power really corrupt them further, or is that person simply using their newfound power to do what they naturally would have done anyway? Think about it. What do you really think would happen if a narcissistic psychotic sociopath suddenly inherits their Great Aunt's billion-dollar fortune? They are already seriously fucked up. The fortune would simply allow them more resources to act on their desires.

Second, does great power come with great responsibility? I can see where everyone would think so, but let's just concentrate on the responsibility aspect here. What is responsibility? Who defines what being responsible is? More to the point, who is to say that a specific action is responsible or not? Say that a bad person was doing something bad to someone else, and a person with great power had the chance to intervene. Is it more responsible to simply stop the action and try to get the bad person to behave, or would it be more responsible to administer some sort of punishment to the bad person so they would see the error of their ways? Sure, fucking with a good person is obviously not a responsible use of power, but what about fucking with an evil person? How much should a powerful person be allowed to fuck with an evil person? See? There are lots of questions there.

OK. That's enough pondering for now. Things in the alley were beginning to wrap up. Time to finish this and be on my merry way. Oh. What was going on, you ask? Well, I happened to stumble upon six of the James Street Wild Boyz cornering a young woman in an alley. They were about to rob and rape her when I showed up. I put a stop to that. After making sure that she couldn't tell anyone anything about me, she ran out of the alley and escaped. The Wild Boyz weren't so lucky. I had them strip and fuck each other in the ass, then suck them off. Yes, I know that 10 loads of cum each withing less than an hour is unrealistic -- even from a group if 18- to 21-year-old guys, but I have a secret that can overcome that. Now, they were standing naked in front of me with 5 loads of cum flowing out their asses and five more loads in their stomachs.

"Pay attention (like they had a choice. I'd already taken care of that). You will now cut off your own testicles and eat them. When you are finished with that, you will all go to the closest police precinct and confess every single illegal thing that you have ever done. You will also confess every illegal thing that you have ever witnessed or heard about. You will provide all information as to what and where all evidence of those crimes can be found. You will request that your Miranda rights are given to you, then you will wave your rights to silence and legal representation. You will not ask for any deals for your testimony. You will offer to testify at all trials for no compensation whatsoever. You will accept whatever sentence is offered." I could sense their terror increase as I spoke. Not only would they be serving several years in prison, but they would be going in as snitches after ratting out all of their friends, and in some cases, family members. It was about to get a whole lot worse for them.

"Furthermore, as of right now, you are all submissive homosexual bottoms. You will never refuse to suck a cock or take it up the ass. Last, but not least, you will never be able to tell anyone anything about me or what happened in this alley. You will also never be able to cause any harm to me or anyone else ever again." Oh, did I neglect to mention that the James Street Wild Boyz were notoriously anti-homosexual?

With that, I turned and walked back out of the alley. I smiled as I heard the screams of pain as they castrated themselves. My mind filled with their terror, pain, and horrible thoughts about their futures as I turned down the street. So much for the James Street Wild Boyz, I thought as I tucked all the money that they graciously handed to me when I asked into my purse.

Yeah, I'm sure that you have a lot of questions right now. Those questions are most likely not about philosophy, either. Who am I, and what am I are probably the most obvious questions you have. Fair enough.

My name is Katrina Jones. I'm really nothing special. At least, I wasn't. I'm still nothing special to most people. I'm average height, average weight, average body, and average looks. I have brown hair and brown eyes. I'm not hideous, but I'm not a supermodel either. I'm just plain average. You probably pass me on the street and barely even notice. I do have one thing going for me, though. I'm really smart. Sure, that doesn't help in the 'getting laid' department, but it does help with my goal of becoming the most feared and ruthless shark in the legal field.

One other thing that you should know about me. I'm a sociopath. I actually do hate people. Not just some people, all people. That probably comes from my childhood. Who knows, it may be part hereditary as well. All I can say is that I had no friends growing up. We were on the lower end of middle class, so I didn't have money. I already described my looks. For those of you who grew up in public schools, you know that being the smart kid in class only served to put a bullseye on your back. I was bullied all through elementary school, Junior High, and Highschool. Any possible friendships that may have developed were quickly squashed because no one wanted to be associated with the class whipping post.

I should also mention that my mother was a cast-iron bitch. She cheated on my dad throughout the marriage. Dad finally had enough and divorced her when I was 10-years old. She never even seriously tried to hide it from him or anyone else. Up until that point, my dad was the only real bright spot in my pathetic life. After the divorce, he moved to the East coast to get away from all the crap my mom was doing to him. Now, being the daughter of the town whore just added to the bullying. Is it really any wonder that I turned out like I did?

I managed to graduate high school with honors. Being a sociopath, I wanted to be able to fuck with other people for a change. What better profession to fuck with people's lives than being a lawyer? I mean, sure; I could have become a serial killer, but there's really no money or future in that. I suppose I could have become a paid hitwoman, but the odds are that the long-term prognosis most likely leads to prison or an early grave. Being a lawyer means legally fucking people over and being paid a boatload of money for doing it.

So, here I was. It was the summer before my senior year of college. Where exactly I was and why I was there really isn't important. The fact is that I was driving across a flat open area in the middle of the country when my piece of crap car died. It was a pretty desolate area, so I really didn't have a lot of hope for a random car to come along and help me out. I did see a couple of buildings in the distance, so I decided to walk and hope that there was someone there who could help me. Yeah, whatever. Don't judge my decision unless you were there. So, I got out and began hoofing it. No, I didn't check the weather reports. I had Pandora playing on my phone through the car stereo.

About an hour later, I saw that there was a house about a quarter mile away. I had noticed dark clouds forming, and the humidity was increasing. I started to walk faster. I heard rumbling and turned to see a few lightning flashes. I sped up some more. When the rain began coming down, I began running. I noticed a pickup starting to move down the driveway. By that time, I was in a full sprint. There was a blinding flash, and I felt an enormous jolt.

My eyes opened to see the inside of a nicely decorated room. Taking stock of my situation, I found that I was lying in a nice comfortable bed. Yes, there was a significant amount of pain, but, surprisingly, I found that the pain reduced as I concentrated on an area that hurt. Odd. I also began to realize that I was hearing voices. Looking around, I was alone. I also started feeling weird emotions. First off, I had no reason to feel happiness, sorrow, jealousy, or a few more. Anger? Sure. That I could understand. Not the rest.

"Hello?" I ventured to speak.

'She's awake.' I heard. Well, I think I heard it, but something was off. A minute later, the door opened, and an elderly man and woman came in.

"Hi there. Thank God that you're finally awake." He said 'She must be some kind of idiot to have been out there in a thunderstorm like that.'

Something very strange was going on. Obviously, I heard the first part. Weirdly, I 'heard' the second part as well. I said 'weirdly' for two reasons. First off, his mouth wasn't moving in the slightest when I heard it. Secondly, I realized that it sounded a bit different because the sound hadn't traveled through my ears. Probably best to not mention that and just pretend that I hadn't heard it. I'm a sociopath, not psychotic -- yet.

They began talking some more and asking how I was feeling. I also began 'hearing' things that were not being said. I discovered that they were an elderly couple who lived on the farm. He had seen me walking down the road and was on his way to pick me up when the thunderstorm began closing in. He was about halfway down the driveway when he saw me get struck in the head by a bolt of lightning. He rushed over to me and managed to do CPR and restart my heart. After putting me in his truck, he brought me to the house, and they put me in this bed. I had been out for about an hour. They called a doctor friend of theirs, and she would be here soon to check me over.

Actually, I was feeling fine by that time. Being polite, I agreed to wait until the doctor checked me out. Yes, I was kind of freaking out, but I had learned a long time ago how to hide things. We sociopaths are pretty good at that.

The doctor showed up a bit later. I must say, she was very stunning. She was about 5'5" tall, long red hair, nice figure, and a pretty face. She shuffled the couple out of the room and began checking me out. Yes, she was actually 'checking me out' too. 'Hmmm. Kind of pretty. With a little make-up and a good hairstyle, she could turn a few heads. Too bad that my asshole husband wouldn't approve.' Yeah, I thought that was too bad as well. Still, best not try that with the homeowners right outside the door. Besides, I really did need to be on my way.

"OK, I'm going to check and see if you have any injuries. You were thrown for a ways, and there's probably some burning where the lightning left your body to go to ground." She spoke. 'Besides that, it will give me a good excuse to check out her titties.'

I was kind of getting annoyed with those voices in my head. Although, I wouldn't mind her checking out my titties, it would only frustrate me not being able to check out hers as well. Besides, I would just get aroused and not be able to take care of it.

"You really don't need to do that." I said.

She got a bit of a weird look for a minute. "OK. I probably don't need to." 'What the fuck? Of course, I need to check for other injuries. I'm going to insist on it. Damn. Why can't I insist on checking for injuries? I'm a doctor. I need to take care of my patient.'

Something was seriously wrong, I figured out quickly. "Look." I said as I got up. "See? Nothing is wrong." I showed her as I walked around, flexed, jumped, and twirled.

"OK. I really should check for any burns, but if you aren't feeling any pain, I can accept that." She agreed.

She soon left, and I called a tow-truck for my car. While I was waiting, I decided to do a couple of subtle tests on what the fuck was going on with me. This couple had been really nice, so I didn't want to fuck with them too much. Besides, I really had no idea what all was going on. I figured out pretty quickly that I could hear their thoughts. I didn't know if I could push any thoughts into them, though. I decided to wait with that.

"Would you care for something to drink?" Mary asked. 'I'm sure that a nice cup of coffee or tea would help her.' She thought.

'Now that the crisis is over, I could really use a good shot of bourbon, but I'd better wait until she's gone first.' I heard Jacob thinking.

"Oh, yes. That would be great. Please bring me a bourbon on Ice." I said.

"Uuummm, Bourbon?" She questioned. "I'm not really sure that would be a good idea." She insisted as she was moving over to the liquor cabinet. 'What the heck? She shouldn't be having alcohol. Why am I pouring it for her?'

'Well, that's interesting.' I thought. She didn't want to do it, but she did it anyway. I decided not to piss them off, so I refrained from trying anything else.

We chatted for another hour until the tow-truck arrived. I continued to listen to their thoughts and got a couple of interesting tidbits. When I mentioned the doctor, I found out that Charmain (the doctor) was a good friend of theirs. She was also married to an asshole that cheats on her. I also discovered that Mary suspected that Charmain might not be completely straight. Very interesting.

OK. There are a couple more tidbits of information about me. First off, I consider myself as a lesbian. The reason I worded it that way is because I'm actually a virgin. How is that possible, you ask? Simple. I was a pariah throughout high school. No one would even talk to me, unless it was to bully me. How many opportunities do you think I had to go on a date? So, what about college? Yeah, right. With my background, I became very anti-social. Perhaps there might have been a few people who thought I was attractive, but my personality kept them away. Besides that, I was totally focused on school. That leads me to where I am right now. 21 and never been kissed. Fuck everyone; I had a couple of vibrators and dildos to keep me sane -- OK, sane-ish.

As for why I believe that I am a lesbian, it's simple. P.O.R.N. I watch porn on my computer and cellphone. It's always lesbian porn. I tried watching regular porn, and it really didn't do anything for me. I was never the slightest bit interested in the guys; it was only the girls I was watching. The only interest I had in the dicks was thinking about how it would look as a strap-on that another girl could wear while fucking the slut. OK, so I did occasionally watch where a strap-on wearing bitch would fuck some wimpy bastard in his ass, but that was just because I got a thrill out of humiliating the asshole.

So, we got to the garage with my car. I was talking to the service manager -- it wasn't going well.

"It might be a couple of days. We need to look into it and see what's wrong. Sometimes with these things, one thing fails and then causes other problems." 'Yeah, and I'm gonna make sure that's what happened.' "I just want to make sure that everything is working as it's supposed to, so you don't get stranded again." 'And make sure that we replace enough good parts to justify a nice hefty bill, even though Johnny already said it was a relatively cheap repair.'

I was getting pissed.

"So, how much do you think we are looking at here? 20 -- 30 bucks?"

He began laughing. 'Stupid bitch. Just fixing what is actually wrong is $80. I'm gonna make sure that it's at least $250 before she drives away.' "Oh no. We can't even look at it for less than $120."

"OK. I'll tell you what. You're going to fix exactly what is wrong with my car, and nothing else. You are only going to charge me $50, and you are going to throw in free oil changes for the next five years."

"Are you out of your mind? There's no way that I'm doing that!"

"Furthermore, when I come back to get my car tomorrow morning, you are going to get down on your knees and kiss my ass in the middle of the lobby."

"Fuck you!"

"That's not happening. If anyone gets fucked, it will be me fucking you with my strap-on in your ass. Now, Get busy on my car!" I demanded as I turned and walked away.

'Fucking dyke cunt. No way is that happening.' "HEY JOHNNY. PULL THAT OLD TOYOTA INTO THE BAY AND GET IT FIXED!" 'Bitch. She can just haul that piece of crap out of here.'

"What are you doing, Ralph? I got this."

"What the fuck? Why am I working on that bitch's car?"

"I dunno, but it looks like you're almost done with it. We gonna mess with it a little and run up the bill?"

'Of course, we are!' "Nope. Just fix what's wrong." 'Huh? That's not what I wanted to do.'

"OK then. Seems strange that you're passing up this chance. So, you gonna inflate the bill?"

"Oh yeah. I gonna charge that bitch $50."

"Fifty bucks???? Hell, normal prices for that fix is $120!!!"

'What the fuck? What am I doing?' "Yeah, well I'm also throwing in free oil changes for the next five years! How's that for screwing her over?"