Roland looked up from his book to his phone buzzing on his desk. He was one of the only 22 year olds he knew that refrained from the technological age. Granted, he had some games on his mobile device, but they were simple affairs that he didn’t spend much time on.
Truth was, he didn’t feel like a typical senior in college, majoring in political science more because that’s what he was good at, the public speaking part, not because it’s what he liked. He was minoring in physical education, he figured that could be a good back up plan and it looked good on a resume.
He was a jack of all trades really, a bit good at anything he tried. He was average looking, a shade under six foot tall, 190 pounds, brown hair he kept in a medium fade (his hair was thick and course, not allowing for anything much longer) and his eyes were a hazel color. He prefered to wear what he was wearing today, all-terrain New Balance shoes, khaki cargo pants, a gray v-neck shirt under a navy blue half zip sweater. One would say he was unremarkable.
His father was an Army man, hauling he and his mother around the nation every three years, it hadn’t allowed them to put any roots down, which had caused Roland Jackson to not become close to anyone other than his parents.
His father had died just last year in Afghanistan, which had been hard. He made sure to call his mother every day he was gone since. It helped them both, as his father had instilled in him to be a man since as long as he could remember. It was the duty of a man. Nowadays there was so much about equality, yet there would always be roles to play. Roland had learned some from his father, some from his mother, and others on his own.
He’d learned that women were a treasure. They came in all shapes and sizes, all kinds of personalities and temperments. He was not a player by any means, his father had taught him about honor, that being a man meant owning up. Roland was either honest with the women in his life about not being exclusive, or he broke it off with the woman he was with if he felt the need to try something different.
Sometimes it went better than others, again, he’d learned.
He picked up his buzzing phone and looked at the text that had come in.
Roland didn’t recognize the number, so he hit his sleep button and went to put it down. Before he could though it buzzed again.
<You should respond to me.>
“What the hell?” he said under his breath, looking at the phone with perplexity, again going to set it down on the table again, again feeling it buzz as he did so.
<Actually, it's a bit complicated.>
Roland felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up and he slowly looked around for someone monitoring him. His father had taught him basic surveillance techniques as a game when they’d go to the mall and be bored when his mother was shopping.
“You can never be too careful. You can never be too prepared,” his father would say, “Now go see if you can get that woman to say that she has always wanted to own a cow.”
Stupid little games they’d play, but now he reverted back to them and what he’d garnered. Someone was playing a joke on him, had to be.
<This is no joke Mr. Jackson. I assure you.>
This ignited a mild flare of his temper, now bringing the response keyboard up.
<How are you doing this?> Roland asked.
“I’m reading your mind,” a voice said, way too close.
Roland jumped up from his seat, the chair moving only so far as to allow him to do so, Roland bringing the book up as a weapon. Across the table from him was a man, who looked like he could have been Rolands brother, with a slightly different face. Slightly more lithe. And golden irises. He wore a normal black suit tailored to be fitted, with a white buttoned shirt and slim black tie.
“Whoa whoa, easy there Mr. Jackson,” he said, inhumanly white teeth showing as he smirked. “Please, sit. While no one will mind at this moment, once I allow time to continue it might seem - weird, for a chair to suddenly skitter across the floor.”
“Time to continue?” Roland asked, looking around.
The seconds on the clock in the student union were fixed: 3:04.43. The barista had stopped stirring the coffee he was preparing. The stress ball one of the other students across the room had tossed into the air was hovering. Smiles frozen. Strides frozen. Everything had stopped.
“Except us,” the smiling man said.
“Explain,” Roland said, grabbing the chair, that had been frozen on one leg as if falling over, and sitting back down, setting his copy of Patriot Games down as well.
“Explain? Just like that?” the man said.
“I’m either delusional, dreaming, or something beyond my comprehension is going on. So explain," Roland said, rather calmly, though his heart was hammering and his anxiety was at an all-time high.
The man chuckled to himself as he adjusted his hands to fold in his lap, crossing his right leg over his left knee.
“Well, you are a special human,” he smiled. “I’ll cut to the chase then?”
“Oh, please do,” Roland responded, rubbing his quickly sweaty hands on his knees.
“I’m here to grant you powers Mr. Jackson.” His voice was serious, no tone of joking or whim.
There was a pause.
“I’m to grant them to you, give you a brief explanation of what you’re now capable of, and leave.”
“Right. So delusion or dreaming,” Roland said, looking out the window. There was a pair of sparrows frozen in flight.
“I assure you, this is neither.”
“When I unfreeze time, you will have the power to alter a mortal human’s mind to however you see fit. You will be able to adjust their bodies as well. This includes your own, though why you’d want to alter your own mind I’m unaware of. The only limits are your imagination. These changes will be permanent, only reverting to their original state should you will it.”
There was another pause.
“A mortal human? So not you?” Roland asked, smiling. To which the man laughed out loud, standing.
“No, not I. Have a wonderful day Mr. Jackson,” he said, buttoning his jacket.
“And who are you? Why do I get these ‘powers’?” Roland asked, giving the last word air quotes.
“I’m unaware Mr. Jackson. However, should you choose to use your abilities, you must say the words, “I order.” Those words before a sentence will carry out said instructions. The deaf will read your lips, the blind shall follow your words. Electronics will not carry your orders, they must be in - range if you will. And now, I bid you adieu.”
In the moment it took Roland to blink his eyes the man was gone. Suddenly the room was alive again. Roland hadn’t realized how quiet it had been, with life having literally stopped for several minutes.
And he didn’t pick his head up from the table as if asleep. He didn’t have a headache or anything physical that he could tell, as different. He was trying to rule out the different things that could explain what had just happened, but after a minute he just decided he needed to try it out. That was the only way to tell if he was crazy or not.
He looked over and saw a cute brunette that had sat down a minute ago with her coffee. He rose and walked over to her. She was alone and if he made a fool out of himself he could play it off and only be a creep to one person.
She was cute though. She had on low rise converse shoes, jean shorts that were low rise, a yellow tank top and some kind of bra with a light cream sweater over top. Her purse was a brown leather affair on the table top. Her hair was in a hasty ponytail and she had dark metal, thin rimmed glasses on, while her fingers tapped away on her phone. She looked up at him as he came to her table, a look of slight interest.
She probably thought he’d hit on her or ask her out or something.
“I order you to give me your coffee,” he said simply.
She immediately picked up her coffee and lightly tossed it at him, which he wasn’t ready for, trying to catch it out of instinct while letting out a surprised ‘oh shit’, before it ultimately hit the floor and splattered everywhere, the hot liquid burning his hands along the way.
“Owww! What the fuck?” the girl said, standing up as coffee hit her legs as well, her size now apparent at about five foot three inches tall, with a petite frame but decent, good looking B or C cup breasts. “Why did I just throw that at you!?” she exclaimed. “I just bought that! God damnit!”
But Roland had an answer. Just like that, he could make people do what he wanted. Unless for some reason she had just done what he’d said automatically, and with results he hadn’t thought of.
“Sorry,” he said automatically, then thought quickly. “I order you to come with me,” he said, thinking about some damage control.
She immediately went blank in the face and stood stark upright, then moved with him when he started walking. People were looking at the commotion now, they needed to leave. But then he realized she’d just left, her phone was in her hand but her purse was still on the table.
“Go get your purse,” he said to her, but she didn’t do anything. “I order you to go get your purse.”
She walked over, still blank faced, collected her purse in both hands and stood next to the table in the coffee on the linoleum floor.
Roland walked back over to her so as not to shout.
“I order you to follow me and act natural,” he said, walking away again, but this time she got down on all fours and crawled after him, her hair starting to come out of her ponytail to look messy, her hands and knees and shoes still in the coffee, her purse now getting dragged through the liquid.
“Jesus christ,” Roland said, this was getting ridiculous.
Alright, I’ve got to break this down. Make it work for me. Allow her to be her but to follow my orders still. Got to phrase it right.
“I order you to act as who you were, but to do as I say,” he said, to which she suddenly blinked and stood up, looking down at herself in uncertainty. “Now come with me,” he said, and she looked up and regarded him, then followed him as walked through the room, a Starbucks employee coming over to them.
“Is everything alright?” the woman asked as Roland tried to walk by.
“I don’t know, this guy keeps telling me to do stuff and I just do it,” the brunette said, making Roland whip around.
Shit! Okay, what did the guy say? In range?
“I order everyone to forget I was ever here, this girl as well,” he yelled out loud, looking around to see the reaction.
The barista immediately ignored him, as did everyone else. To include the brunette.
Okay, so I can make people forget too. More and more complicated.
“I order you to tell me your name,” he said to the brunette.
“Kayla Rene Hamilton,” she said, startled like she’d not known he was there.
“Kayla, I order you to act as yourself but do as I say,” he said.
“Okay,” she responded.
“Come with me,” he said, then backed away, she looked at him quizzically but followed.
“Ah, okay. Good. Oh, and don’t tell anyone I’m giving you orders and that you follow them. Act normal,” he said as well.
“Okay,” she said again.
He quickly walked out of the union building and down to his car, getting in. Kayla did not, so he got out.
“Why aren’t you in the car?” he asked.
“You ordered me to come with you, not to get in your car. I don’t want to get in your car,” she said.
It occurred to him just then what exactly he was doing. The implications of it ran through his mind at breakneck speed. He was forcing her to do things she was aware she had no control in doing. It hit him like a ton of bricks. Guilt washed over him like a wave. Then he saw her clothes and the coffee on them. And the deviant side of him spoke in his mind.
See, Roland had been carrying a dark secret he’d never told anyone but him various computers. He was into some pretty freaky shit. Rape. Bondage. Forced orgasms were some of his favorite. Forced feminization. Mind control. Impregnation. Insertion. Hell, he’d even looked up gay and bisexual porn before. So his rational mind went to work.
I can do what I want. I can even make them forget afterwards. Is it even rape if they like it? If I make them like it? Hell, I can MAKE them think it was their idea!
“Kayla, you still have to do what I say right?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“Then I want you to want to do anything I say. I want you to feel happiness whenever you do as I say.”
“Oh,” she said, suddenly as if a switch were thrown in her mind, “well then we should get in your car.”
They were down the street moments later, on their way to Roland's apartment on the other side of the campus, though not on the campus itself. He hadn’t jacked off since that morning- but now he could have it handled for him.
“Give me head,” he said to Kayla, who responded immediately.
She leaned over, using her hands to undo his pants enough to fish his cock out of his briefs, then immediately going to work on him, deep throating his slightly hard 8 inch cock in one go.
“Oh holy shit,” he said, reveling in the feeling of Kayla’s throat.
She had taken him all the way to balls in the first go, then was using her tongue at the same time as her gag reflex fought with her order. He put his right hand on the back of her head and let her bob up and down, making him rock hard in seconds. She kept going all the way down, all the way up, fucking her own face with his dick. It was wonderful.
It didn’t take more than two minutes of the ten minute drive before he felt the familiar feeling of being close to cumming, telling her to slow down before remembering the other part of his powers: he could control bodies as well. Even his own.
“Keep going,” he said, suddenly excited. “Swallow all my cum.”
She renewed her assault with her mouth, needing another minute to coax his balls to tighten up, his body tensing, his cum rocketing down his cock. She, sensing all this, took him again down her throat and let him shoot right into her stomach, sucking what didn’t shoot the rest of the way as she pulled off his member.
“Oh man,” Roland said, his body relaxing. “That was amazing.”
Kayla just leaned back over to her seat, looking out the window, but speaking, “Mmmm, it feels good to do as you say. That was really - nice.”
“I order my dick to be ready to have sex again,” he said, laughing out loud as he prick which had been going soft sprung to life again.
“Wow,” Kayla said, watching from the other seat, able to comment as she was herself, just having to do as Roland said.
Her words reminded Roland that he had these powers, but what exactly could he do?
“Kayla, cum for me,” he said, turning a corner.
The reaction was instantaneous. The girl’s eyes snapped open like she’d been hit with a shock, her mouth dropping open as her hands flew to the crotch in her jean shorts, her upper body doubling over as her knees shot to her chest, then her hands flew out to the door handle and the center console of his Honda Accent, her legs shooting out and hitting the dash before going under to the floorboard, her body going rigid as her upper body flopped against the seat back, her mouth still open but her eyes rolled back in her head.
She was moaning and groaning, some occasional “oh my god”s thrown in there, gasping for breath. But she didn’t stop.
“Kayla, you can stop cumming!” Roland yelled over her.
She stopped, her body going limp as her labored breathing filled the car.
“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Fuck. I’ve never cum that hard before. Ever,” she said, looking over at him after gasping and trying to catch her breath, smiling. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah, this is awesome,” Roland said, parking the car along the street.