Vox Dominus Pt. 09

Chapter 9

He didn't feel guilty.

That was probably the strangest part. It wasn't that only eight hours ago, he had impulsively entranced Chelsea in public; it wasn't that he had forced her to strip and masturbate in front of him; it wasn't even that it seemed he was successful in permanently altering her memory.

No. What really stuck out to him was how normal it all felt.

Of course, there was fear, at first. He had practically sprinted out of the Undergrind Café, afraid that at any moment he would get a furious call from Chelsea, or turn and see her stalking him with vengeance in her eyes. But instead, the morning passed without incident into the afternoon. By the time he arrived at the evening theater club meeting, Seb had almost convinced himself that he had done it: he had navigated the fateful meeting of Chelsea and Sophia without any harsh consequences. Sure, he had to cross a few lines to do so...

...But it sure didn't feel that way.

Seb shifted his seat as the club president droned on, the tile floor providing little in the way of cushioning or comfort. Even though it was technically their "club room," the space was more like a storage area in the dormitory basement, with brick walls and exposed piping running across the ceiling. Still, the Diepner Players had worked to make the place feel like a home, hanging thrift store paintings and cast photos where they could and jamming overstuffed furniture where it would fit. Normally, these accommodations were enough for the "executive board" meetings, but these open sessions left many of the attendees clustered on the floor, listening to debates about future productions and fundraisers.

Not that Seb minded that much. His presence in the club was more of a social excuse anyway. He never played any major production roles, nor did he hold particularly strong opinions on the logistics of each show. That was all Miki and Tobias, the former of whom had managed to get herself elected Treasurer last year, despite being a freshman. She had come to the meeting with an agenda—Seb was just there for moral support. Which gave him time to think.

And wonder if the Vox wasn't having a greater effect on him than he thought.

Previously, even using it in semi-controlled circumstances would leave him with lingering doubts and guilt for days. Yet after the initial panic had faded, this morning's session had become more or less a mundane memory. He could make himself feel bad about it if he tried, reflecting on the various social, cultural and ethical rules he had broken. But the moment that fixation faded, so too did the guilt. And Seb was hard pressed to retain it.

Especially when he was this hard.

Seb adjusted his position again, awkwardly navigating around the erection that had been straining his pants the whole meeting. Bailing out on Chelsea had prevented him from pushing her boundaries further, but it had also left the Vox horribly unsatisfied. Masturbating in his room had helped, but now he was trapped in a tiny space with a crowd of cute girls, many of whom were showing more skin than normal to compensate for the unseasonably warm September air. Miki was no exception—she had probably chosen her tiny gym shorts for comfort, but the looseness of the fabric and Seb's position on the floor meant he could see far up her slender thighs every time she crossed them, occasionally catching a glimpse of her white panties as well.

It was a libido pressure cooker. Seb found himself hyper aware of every movement, every sigh from his overheating peers. Normally Seb had to concentrate to get the Vox to come out—now it was an almost dizzying effort to keep it in. So he kept reflecting on his lack of remorse, kept trying to guilt-trip his way out of the horny haze. But doing so would often lead to memories of Chelsea's vacant expression, the way she had recited mantras of submission in his name, the way her body quivered at the slightest suggestion of his touch, the way her tits...

The president slapped his laptop shut, cuing everybody to stand and head for the door. Seb belatedly realized the meeting must be over, and breathed a short-lived sigh of relief. He had made it through this trial, but the Vox needed an outlet. Its dark waters were roiling inside of him, threatening to spill out every time he opened his mouth. If he didn't find a way to drain them soon...

"Seb! How'd the reunion go?" Miki practically tackled him before the door, her eyes shining with anticipation. "Did Sophia show up like she said she would? What was she like? Has she put on weight? I want all the deets."

"Uh, er," Seb's temperature sky-rocketed, Miki's hand on his shoulder almost boiling over his brain.

Fortunately, Tobias came to the rescue, gently pulling her back. "Easy, babe, you're gonna knock him over. I'm sure it's nothing to get that excited over." His smile was easygoing, but his pupils brimmed with the same eagerness as his girlfriend.

Seb coughed, stalling for time. "W-well it went about how you would expect."

"And what does that mean?" Miki demanded. "Did you let her have it like I said you should?"

"N-no it wasn't like that." Seb hastily answered. "We just talked. It was fine. We're, um, we're good."

Miki didn't miss a beat. "Good? What's 'good?' Are you guys friends again? Lovers? Something in between?"

Her face was so close to him now. It would be so easy to just whisper a choice word or two in her ear and... "I gotta run," Seb said. "I'll tell you guys all about it soon," he quickly added as he stumbled out into the hall.

"It's all good, Seb," Tobias replied, placing a hand on Miki's shoulder so she wouldn't give chase. "We can wait till whenever you're comfortable."

Seb offered a parting smile and nod as he left.

Inside, he bleakly wondered if he would ever be comfortable again.

_______________________________________________

"I-I appreciate the invite," Seb smiled uneasily. "But I really do have work I need to get done."

"C'mon bro, it'll be fun," Ben pressed, rocking anxiously on his bed. "You, like, barely ever go out. What's the point of college if you're gonna spend Saturday nights cooped up in your dorm?"

In all honesty, after everything that had happened to Seb the past couple days, a night alone to reflect and wrestle the Vox under control sounded like exactly what he needed. Yet no sooner had he returned to his dorm then his roommate had rushed to invite him to some house party they absolutely "had" to go to that night. Seb had, of course, politely turned him down—Ben was an alright guy, but it had become clear early in the semester that his idea of "fun" did not line up with Seb's.

"Trust me, you don't want to see me at parties," Seb tried a different tack. "I'd only drag you and Phil down."

"Well, uh, that's the thing." Ben scratched his neck awkwardly. "Funny story. Phil and I actually went out last weekend and ran into that Chelsea chick. And Phil was like, totally wasted, and started saying stupid shit, and we got kicked out."

The hairs on Seb's neck stood up on end. "What did Phil say?" he asked.

"I dunno man, dumb stuff," Ben fumed. "He was being such an asshole, bro. Even I know you don't fuckin' drag a girl at her own sorority party. Anyway, the point is: I just need a break from Phil for a sec, but I can NOT show up to this party alone, y'know?"

"Uh, sure," Seb lied.

"Look bro, I'm tellin' ya, this is exactly what you need," his roommate continued. "Loosen up! Let that brain of yours rest for a night. Maybe get some action? I'll totally wingman for you if you come. Scout's honor."

"Eh-heh. That..." Seb paused.

Wait a second.

Maybe that WAS exactly what he needed.

A house party. A place where he would be anonymous. A night full of drunk partygoers who wouldn't look twice at some drowsy girl hanging on his every word. And girls who wouldn't think twice about feeling weirdly attracted to a stranger for a night. It was the perfect venue for testing and satisfying the Vox. No complications, no hang-ups, no baggage. Seb would be just another pleasant, fuzzy memory after a night engineered to evoke them.

Ben arched his eyebrows expectantly. "Looks like someone's thinkin' about iiiit, am I right?"

Seb laughed sheepishly, hoping to hide the dark anticipation beating in his chest. "Alright, alright," he said. "Let's go."

_______________________________________________

Without even entering the house, Seb could already tell why this was Ben's kind of party.

The two-story home was situated in Powelltown, a subdivision set slightly outside of the official Diepner campus. It was a popular housing locale for upperclassman hoping to cut loose, its relatively remote location and majority student population ensuring that ragers could continue till dawn without pissing off the neighbors. In fact, they were more likely to join in on the fun instead.

Bass beats shook the soles of Seb's shoes as he mounted the porch steps, suddenly reminding him why he tended to avoid parties in the first place. They were like arenas outside of the everyday, where the normal modes of communication gave way to fast impressions based on instincts and social codes Seb had never quite mastered. He needed time to think. To process. Powelltown parties were engineered to prevent that.

"This is so sick, bro." Ben was practically bouncing in place as he held the door open for Seb. "You won't regret it, promise." Seb could only manage a weak nod in response.

Was this stupid? Was this insane? Going to a strange party full of strange people, all in the hopes of getting the chance to mind control one of them without being noticed? Would they even be able to hear the Vox over the music? What if it didn't work, and he just ended up outing himself as a creep?

Sound and sweat pressed in on all sides as Seb followed Ben down a narrow hallway deeper into the house, eventually reaching the kitchen where all the drinks were. Before Seb had even caught his breath, a red plastic cup was in his hands, brimming with a neon orange drink Ben had unhelpfully labeled "Powelltown Punch."

"Cheers, bro." Ben tunked the lip of his cup on Seb's and threw back a hearty gulp. Seb took a timid sip in response, still playing catch-up. The drink tasted like someone dumped a year's supply of Pixie Sticks in a vat of Hi-C.

Before Seb could ask what exactly was in the concoction, his roommate suddenly went rigid, his back perfectly straight and his eyes fixed ahead, looking not unlike a meercat in a rumpled flannel.

"Oh shit," he said, seemingly more to himself than Seb. "She's really here."

Seb felt his blood freeze over. No. Surely not again. "Wh-who's here?" he asked.

"Nathalie bro," Ben answered. "She's this mad-hot chick in my biology lecture. I heard her talking about this party and thought this might be my chance." He took another drink, his gaze still fixed across the room.

Seb followed his eyes to a curvy girl in a low-cut t-shirt standing in the living room. She talked animatedly to her friends, not missing a beat in their conversation as she whipped her dark, slightly curly hair over her shoulder. Seb could see why she would become a fixation for Ben: there was a relaxed cheerfulness to her movements, and her laugh was loud enough to reach both boys even across the hall.

So this is why they "had" to come to this party. And why Ben couldn't show up alone. "Let's go talk to her," Ben said, already nudging Seb out of the kitchen.

"Er..."

"C'mon, there're other girls over there too."

Seb swallowed. Why did the prospect of accosting them suddenly seem so terrifying? "Y-you can go without me, I'll just finish my drink."

Ben scoffed, thumping Seb on the shoulder. "Bro, you have got to relax. I dunno if Chelsea was your first female experience or what but most girls aren't lookin' to mess with you. They just wanna have a good time like everyone else—what's the worst that could happen, right?"

Seb blinked, taken aback.

What was the worst that could happen? What on earth could a handful of tipsy strangers do to him that was worse than Chelsea's wrath? Looking at it that way, he should have nothing to fear...right?

"Okay," Seb nodded. "Let's go."

Ben whacked him on the back one more time, ushering the two of them across the hall and into the girls' orbits.

"Oh shit, no way," Ben exclaimed, as though the sudden sight of Nathalie had halted him in his tracks. "It's Nathalie, right?"

Nathalie's eyebrows furrowed for a moment before bouncing high as her expression brightened. "Oh hey...Ben, right? From biology?"

"Nailed it," Ben offered his hand for a fist-bump, which Nathalie returned with a giggle. "And this is my friend, Seb."

"Uh, hey." Seb offered a small wave. "Nice to meet you."

"Same." Nathalie returned the wave before introducing her compatriots, an auburn-haired girl named Jessica and her sporty companion, Bea. Seb exchanged faltering pleasantries with the two of them before Ben took control of the conversation, bantering loudly with Nathalie and more or less pushing everyone else to the sidelines. Seb tried his best to interject a laugh or a remark where he could, but it was clear he wasn't making much of an impression, nor did he have much in common with anyone in the lopsided little cluster.

Should he try to deploy the Vox now? The thought crossed his mind in a flash, but he just as quickly knocked it down. The whole point of coming to the party was to trance an anonymous subjects without further repercussions. Even from their limited interaction, Jessica and Bea now knew too much for him to make a clean post-Vox break, and if Nathalie and Ben ended up together, there was more than a small chance Seb would be crossing paths with this group again in the future.

This initial engagement wasn't going to get him anywhere. So, satisfied he had fulfilled his obligation to Ben and announcing that he was getting another drink, Seb extracted himself from the room.

His retreat took him back towards the main hall, his eyes scanning for possible subjects as he moved to the other end of the house. Unfortunately, finding a target was proving to be a daunting task. Most of the girls he passed were already chatting it up with a guy or otherwise surrounded by a gaggle of friends. In either case, approaching them as a lone, male stranger seemed ill-advised. Even with the supposed armor of his anonymity, Seb still found the prospect of making a fool of himself nauseating.

He could always take his chances with the dance floor in the basement, if worse came to worse. But he wasn't much of a dancer in the first place, and he was still worried about his ability to be heard over the pounding music. If he got close enough, maybe he could deploy the Vox safely but...

Seb felt his grip on his cup tighten, and almost laughed. Here he was, a man with the secret ability to control people's minds, paralyzed at the thought of what most normal guys did every Saturday. He could almost hear the Vox thrashing in frustration, clawing at the fears and anxieties he had spent his whole adolescence solidifying. Well, it was no surprise: when it came to irrational urges controlling his body, the Vox was merely the newest addition, and there was plenty of competition.

A cheer to Seb's right snapped him out of his spinning thoughts. He had wandered into what must've been the dining room, but the central table had been commandeered and repurposed, serving now as the field for that most venerable collegiate sport:

Beer pong.

Seb stopped in his tracks, watching with a handful of other spectators as a snap-back wearing man and his tank-topped companion arced a perfect shot into the opposing female duo's lineup, forcing them to squeal, laugh, and then drink the targeted cup. Seb smirked to himself, recalling his own attempt at the game his freshman year, a hilarious failure that ended in Miki and Tobias absolutely dominating the table, leaving Seb too wasted to make a move on the teammate his friends had set him up with. Ah well. That was how it went when...

A bolt of inspiration struck. Seb snapped his gaze away from the table and onto the surrounding crowd, hoping he could capitalize on the sudden brainwave before he could second-guess it.

There: sulking in the corner of the room, biting absently on the lip of her cup. She looked like she must be around Seb's age, her dirty blonde hair tied in a half-ponytail, her large, dark eyes following the ball back and forth, her glossy lips posed in a slight frown. She had clearly come to this house ready to party, but something must've gone amiss in her night. Maybe her friends had paired off with dance partners, leaving her to aimlessly kill time somewhere else. Maybe she had come pursuing a beau of her own, only to lose the chance or lose her nerve. Whatever the backstory, Seb had ascertained at least two important facts:

First, she was attractive. She didn't have Chelsea's beauty or Sophia's body, but there was no denying the allure of her tennis-player figure, her small breasts and firm ass perfectly packaged by her cut-off jeans and form-fitting t-shirt tied above her midriff.

Secondly, she was alone. With seemingly no other supervisor or chaperone in sight. Seb had to move now before that changed. Fortunately, the beginnings of a plan had already formed in his mind.

"E-excuse me," he said, approaching her. "Are you, uh, waiting for the next game?"

"Hm?" She blinked, having apparently been lost in her own thoughts. "Oh, no. You can go ahead of me or whatever."

"Thanks, but I-I, actually don't have a teammate," Seb admitted, forcing disarming smile through the rising terror in his gut. "Would it be crazy to ask you to join me?"

God it was disconcerting how easily the Vox slipped out of his mouth. The girl's eyes widened, and for a moment, Seb was worried he had already overplayed his hand. But then her eyelids fluttered, and a familiar dullness entered her voice. "Huh?" she said vacantly before recovering herself. "Uh, no. It wouldn't be..."

"Fantastic," Seb pressed closer, hoping speed would make up for his lack of grace. "Let's team up then. What's your name?"

"Uh, sure. I'm Tiffany." the girl answered. "And you are?"

"Se—er, I mean Tobias," Seb answered, using the first false name that popped into his head.

"Wait, what?" Tiffany's eyes narrowed.

Shit. This wasn't exactly the smooth seduction he envisioned. "My name's Tobias. It's great to meet you."

Tiffany's chin dipped slightly, before bouncing back up. "Um. Great to meet you too," she replied. Then she blinked, and looked away with an awkward giggle.

"Wh-what's up?" Seb asked.

"Uhh...I dunno." She looked at him and tilted her head with a bemused smirk. "You're just...kinda weird, y'know?"

Seb clenched his jaw. Ordinarily, this would be the point he would give up and flee back to the drink table in shame. But the Vox rooted him in place, forced him to look his subject in the eye. "You're kinda weird too," he said with a playful smirk. "I think we'll make a great team, don't you?"

"Sure," Tiffany answered automatically, her pupils briefly un-focusing as they gazed into his.

"That's the spirit," Seb pointed to her cup. "What are you drinking?"

She looked down, as though having to remind herself. "It's the, uh, the punch, I guess?"

"The famous 'Powelltown Punch?'" Seb offered with a small laugh.

To his relief, she smiled. "Yep. That's the one." Against all odds, she seemed to be accepting the Vox without noticing its influence. Which meant it was time for the first real test.

"Sounds good." Seb extended his hand. "Here. Let me refill that for you. You stay here and hold our spot."