The Rabbit Hole

The Rabbit Hole Chapter 4: By Trixie Adara Edited by Abby H.

Penny

"Just try to relax," said Penny.

"That's pretty cliche," said Nadia. She opened her left eye and stuck her tongue out at Penny. Penny rolled her eyes but couldn't resist a smile.

"Do you want this to work or not?"

"I do," said Nadia, opening her eyes entirely. They were back in Penny's office. The sound of rain and bells surrounded Nadia, along with a gentle music she couldn't quite identify or name.

"Then, relax," commanded Penny. "I'd hate for this not to work because you're so wound up from excitement or anxiety."

"I'll get right on that," muttered Nadia.

"Try," snapped Penny.

Nadia blushed and stared at her hands, each nervously twitching in her lap. "Sorry," she muttered.

Penny sighed. "No, I'm sorry." Penny crossed in front of Nadia and sat on her desk in front of the redhead. "I'm nervous too." Penny grabbed a pencil and rolled it between her hands. "I guess I'm the one that should relax."

Nadia reached forward and grabbed Penny's hand. "Hey," she whispered. "If you fail, at least you'll join the legions of others that have failed before you."

Nadia smiled, but Penny's eyes turned to ice and pulled her hand away.

"I'm not like the others," said Penny.

Nadia smiled and opened her mouth to say something, but Penny pushed on. "Most hypnotists are performers. They rely on peer pressure and illusion to confuse the audience. I'm not a liar. I am powerful. I've always been powerful. Ever since I was a little girl. They are pretenders. I'm not."

Images flashed in the back of Penny's mind. A facility for youth. A psychiatric ward. A nurse, crawling into her bed. A long needle. Her mother. Her aunt. Straps on her arms. And all of them, all of them, going limp under her scream, under her rage, under her power.

"Whatever happens," said Nadia, bringing Penny back to the present, "I won't blame you if it doesn't work. You've tranced scores of people. If it doesn't work, it'll prove that something is wrong with ... me." Nadia whispered the last word.

"It won't matter. It won't happen."

"You're sure?" asked Nadia.

"I double checked the equipment. You followed my dietary suggestions?"

"Yes."

"Well rested?"

"Yes."

"But not over-rested?" asked Penny.

"Yes."

"You watched the videos I sent you?"

"Yes," said Nadia.

"Those should have laid a foundation, made you more receptive."

"They didn't trance -" started Nadia.

"They weren't supposed to," interrupted Penny.

"Okay," muttered Nadia.

"That's about everything we can control."

Penny stepped behind Nadia. "You ready?" she asked.

"Yes," said Nadia.

"Good," said Penny. "Try to relax."

Penny went into performer mode. Her mother, who was a teacher, often said that this is what it was like for teachers. Penny's mind was trying to conduct an orchestra, trying to perfectly perform a synchronized dance. She had to control the equipment and sound. She had to monitor it as she went, making sure it wasn't too loud or distracting but loud enough to flood Nadia's mind. She had to speak into Nadia's mind and control the trance. But most importantly, she had to monitor Nadia. This wasn't like reading off a script. Based on how Nadia reacted, Penny would have to change her words or adjust her equipment. She had to read her audience, and change her act with expertise based on Nadia's reaction.

"I want you to imagine the safest place in the world," said Penny. "A place where you felt universally loved and appreciated. A place of absolute security and acceptance. You don't perform there. You don't worry there. You are taken care of. You are embraced. Imagine that place in your mind. Let's start there. Imagine the scents of that place. What does it smell like? Smell them again, here and now. What sights are in that place? Colors. Objects. Lights. Shadows. What does that place look like? What are the textures there? Surfaces? Run your fingers over the wood, over the tabletops, over the walls, the floors, the ground. What does it feel like on your skin there? Put yourself in that place. Any age. Any time. Just go to that place. Go there now."

Penny circled around in front of Nadia. Nadia's eyes were closed, and she was smiling. Good. She was in a safe and neutral position. Penny didn't need to corrupt or destroy Nadia. She didn't want to harm the girl at all. All she needed to do was trance her. Basic stuff.

"Are you there, Nadia?"

Nadia nodded.

"Speak out loud," commanded Penny.

"I'm there."

"Where are you?"

"My grandmother's house. She's baking cookies for me. A whole batch of cookies just for me."

"And you can smell the cookies?" asked Penny.

"Yes."

"You can hear your grandmother while she moves around in the kitchen?"

"Yes."

"You feel safe?" asked Penny.

"Yes."

"Good girl."

Penny proceeded to draw her in deeper. More guiding. More repetition. Simple affirmations. Find anything to make Nadia agree with her. That was step one. Once they agreed, their thoughts would start to become one. Then Penny could lead Nadia wherever she wanted.

She wanted to ask Nadia if she was in the Rabbit Hole. She wanted to make sure and check if Nadia was tranced and under her control versus being compliant and agreeable. Subjects always start wanting to play along in some degree. Nadia very much wanted to play along, but checking to make sure Nadia was in a trance would be like pulling out a souffle before it was done: checking could ruin everything. In the meantime, it was like watching a pot boil. It felt like nothing was getting done.

Penny ran diagnostics on Nadia's mind, troubleshooting. She asked if Nadia was distracted. She asked if Nadia was thinking about anything else. Was Nadia's mind wandering? But Nadia denied all of that. Nadia said she was focused, calm, and ready. She said she stayed in the safe place the whole time. Everything was going as they normally go. Nadia was ready and willing. Her mind was pliant and eager to obey.

Penny decided to push on Nadia's mind and see how flexible and soft it was at this point:

"I've enjoyed our time together," said Penny. It wasn't the entire truth, but it was a harmless enough lie. "I've loved getting to know you."

"Me too." Nadia smiled but kept her eyes closed. "I like you."

"Oh really?"

"Yes. You're sweet. You try not to act that way, but it slips in sometimes."

Penny felt herself get uncomfortable. She steered the conversation away. "Do you like my office?" asked Penny.

"Not really."

"Really?" she asked. "Why not?"

"It's too stuffy."

"The air, you mean?"

"No, the whole thing. It's too sterile and clean. It looks like a catalogue, not a home."

Penny clenched and unclenched her fist. "Because it's clean?" she clarified.

"Yes. It doesn't look lived in. It looks abandoned. That's not welcoming."

Penny caught herself clenching her jaw. At least Nadia was feeling honest. That meant she felt comfortable. That was a crucial step to feeling pliable. Penny smiled to herself. Maybe she could have fun with the girl.

"Tell me, Nadia. Do you find me attractive?" asked Penny.

"Attractive?" asked Nadia.

Questions were dangerous. It meant part of the conscious mind was awake. Penny tread lightly.

"Yes, attractive," said Penny.

"You're beautiful," muttered Nadia.

Penny smiled. It was an empty compliment. All her subjects were brought to appreciate her beauty, even those she turned into drooling cocksluts. She made some call her goddess. She heard it enough to feel unflattered by it.

"But attractive?" asked Penny.

"Yes."

"Do you find women attractive?" pushed Penny. She was letting her temper get the better of her.

"What do you mean?" asked Nadia.

Shit.

"Nevermind," said Penny. She was trying to backpedal, but she'd done this enough to know she lost.

"Like, do you mean do I find them cute? Women are cute. And beautiful. I see that all the time."

"You need to relax," said Penny. Her fists clenched. Dammit.

"But if you mean attractive, like do I want to date them or have sex with them, then no," added Nadia without permission or request. Penny lost her.

"Open your eyes," ordered Penny.

Nadia obeyed.

"Jesus," sighed Penny.

"What?"

"You're nowhere near a trance are you?" hissed Penny.

"What? No. I mean ..." Nadia lowered her eyes. "I guess not."

"Shit," spat Penny. "God dammit." Penny stomped away from Nadia. She couldn't look at her.

"There's no reason to curse," muttered Nadia.

"Oh really?" snapped Penny. "You can't think of a single reason?"

Silence fell between them, but Penny wasn't worried about Nadia. Her rage was thick and black around her. She was stupid. She pushed too hard. And what was that question about women and finding Penny attractive? What the hell was that?

Unprofessional. That's what that is. Selfish and greedy and stupid. Stupid. She doesn't care if Nadia finds her attractive. She's not trying to seduce Nadia. She doesn't care about Nadia. Nadia doesn't matter. The only reason Nadia is here is because ...

What? Penny felt sorry for her? Penny felt guilty for taking Joe?

No. Joe was a terror. He told Penny all about his past girlfriends. He told her every time he made a woman feel like shit, every time he felt like a bully. Penny had to leave the room and let the recording handle the rest. He's worse than even Nadia knew, and he deserved everything he got or will get.

Nadia was here because she was a puzzle, a challenge. Trance was a game to Penny, one she could easily beat. Controlling people, bending them to her will and crushing them--it was a game at first. It was a fun challenge. But it had become boring and easy. It was too simple, too predictable. Nadia was something new. Nadia was exotic. Penny knew if she worked at this, she could solve it. She'd conquer this and know she was powerful. She really would be the best in the world. She'd trance the un-tranceable.

But Nadia beat her.

"Was it the equipment?" asked Nadia.

Heat rippled over Penny's skin and through her blood. "No, Nadia." The venom in her voice was thick and caustic. "It wasn't the equipment."

"Was it me? Did I do something wrong?"

"You must have." Penny opened the door to her office. "Harold?" she shouted across the penthouse. She turned around and saw Nadia standing, facing her, looking penitent.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered. "I didn't mean to."

"You will find, Miss MacQuarrie, that in the course of science, we look for simple and obvious explanations." Penny strode past the girl to her desk and sat down. "In this case, there is one common factor. I have tranced thousands of people. The other hypnotists you've seen have no doubt tranced dozens or hundreds. That means the common factor must be ..." Penny trailed off to let the girl find the conclusion.

"Me," whispered Nadia.

"Exactly." Penny stood up again. She couldn't sit. She wanted to punch something. She wanted to scream. She wanted to pull her hair out and flip her desk over.

She could hear the taunting voices of all her skeptics and cynics. Joe telling the crowd she was a fraud. She was a fraud. All the doubters filled her head, all the way back to her mother. Her mother who couldn't believe her. Her aunt who took advantage of a mother's skepticism. Penny doesn't know what she's talking about. She's making things up. The voice of the nurse in the facility: Penny doesn't have any abilities. She's fabricating things. It's part of her condition.

Fuck that. Penny wasn't going to lose. She didn't lose in the facility. She didn't lose to her aunt. She didn't lose to the doctors and specialists that tried to understand her. She never lost. That's how she crushed Joe. That's why she crushed men like Joe. They thought they could make a loser of her, to show her as a fraud to the world. And that's what Nadia was doing now, in her simple and naive way, she was trying to expose Penny as a fraud. But Penny would show them. She wouldn't be defeated so easily. She would win.

"Thank you for trying," said Nadia, but Penny was in her own thick storm.

"What?" snapped Penny. Nadia stepped back, startled.

"Thank you for trying," said Nadia with less conviction. "I really appreciate it."

"Yes, I'm sure you do," said Penny. "Unfortunately, it was a complete waste of time."

Nadia flinched from the comment. "I'm sorry," said Nadia.

Harold appeared at the doorway, looking frazzled. "Yes, madam?"

"It took you a whole minute to cross the penthouse? It's big, but it's not that big. Are you feeling ill, Harold?" asked Penny.

"No, madam."

"Are you getting old?"

"No, madam."

"Then you must have been accosted by bandits between wherever the hell you were and here?"

"No, madam. I was ... using the facilities."

"You'll find Harold that I have no respect for the call of nature." Penny turned from Harold and glared at Nadia. "Mother Nature answers to me."

"Yes, madam."

"See Miss MacQuarrie out," said Penny. "I'm done with her." Penny broke eye contact with Nadia. Harold held the door of the office open for Nadia, but Nadia didn't move.

"Thank you for your time," she said. Her voice had regained some strength but not enough to command respect. "You did a great job. I'm sure it wasn't your fault it didn't work."

"I don't want your pity," said Penny. She was already scrolling through her phone. She was arranging plans for later this week. It was going to be a big week for Joe--one of his last.

Harold cleared his throat, and Nadia moved towards the door. At the door, she stopped and turned around. "For what it's worth," she said. Penny didn't look up from her phone. "Even if I wasn't in trance, I liked talking to you. I liked the safe space."

Penny looked up, but Nadia was already gone.

While she waited for Harold to return and tried to create an adequate punishment for his tardiness, Penny got in contact with Dr. Thurman and Clarice. They were her consults on these kind of transformations, and she had no time to waste. Eventually became immediately for her plans with Joe. She knew what she had to do. She'd be leaving tonight.

Harold appeared in the doorway. "I apologize, madam."

"Apologies mean nothing. Results are what I want."

"Yes, madam."

"But we both know I won't fire you," she looked up at Harold and gave him a wicked grin, "don't we?"

Harold shuddered. "Yes, madam."

"Call Camille Kontalban. I want to speak with her at her earliest convenience."

"Yes, Madam."

"Actually, damn her convenience. I want to talk to her tonight."

"Yes, Madam."

"I'll be preparing Joe in the Rabbit Hole. Once you're done, strip and come to me. You won't be tardy again, understood?"

"Yes, Madam."

Penny made a dismissive gesture to wave Harold away. She prepared to visit Joe. She took off her earrings and rings as she walked. She unbuttoned her blouse and loosened the sleeves. Sometimes, this work could call for a hazmat suit, but Penny wanted expedience, not comfort.

Joe was no longer strapped to the chair. He sat there willingly. The trance brought him pleasure. Non-erotic pleasure. Erotic pleasure had a limit for men. Their bodies have preventative measures to keep them from being turned on for too long. Women could edge for days or weeks, but men were time bombs when it comes to erotic pleasure. Eventually, the cock would erupt of its own accord after prolonged stimulation. Instead of erotic pleasure, Penny preferred euphoria. Joe was basically high right now. The feeling increased as he went into trance, and the feeling was addictive like drug use was. At this point, Penny couldn't take away trancing from Joe if she wanted. He would break down the doors of her penthouse and offer Penny anything, anything, to be tranced again.

Joe's files had long moved away from simple love of cock or cum. He was drowning in his new passion. The fine line, and the one Penny hoped to jump entirely, was Joe's sexuality. Making him accept himself as gay was a waste of time. Soon, he'd be in a woman's body. If she made Joe consider himself gay in a male body, she'd then have to make him considered himself straight in a female body. Of course, sexual preference is never so binary. It's a spectrum of desires and attraction. But hypnotism prefers binaries. You don't see hypnotists tell someone to act chicken-ish. You see them tell someone to act like a chicken. The hypnotist is playing off of the subject's mind and what they think a chicken should act like. This meant that whatever Penny understood about sexuality was irrelevant. All that mattered was what Joe thought about sexuality. His understanding of homosexuality and heterosexuality were primary, and Penny's understandings were secondary. A gay man who becomes a woman is not a straight woman in Joe's mind. That was the obstacle. But this was not Penny's first time, nor was it her first time doing this under a deadline. If Penny was going to be gone for a few weeks, she needed someone to keep an eye on Nadia. And that person could not look or act like anyone Nadia knew. "It's almost your birthday," said Penny. Joe didn't look away from the screen. "What are you learning today?" asked Penny as she crouched down next to Joe's chair. "I'm a slut," intoned Joe. "I live to serve. Others are above me. Everyone is above me. I live to serve them. I will serve anyone who asks. Anyone can use me." "That's nice," said Penny in the same tone she'd use with a small child. Free use training would take months to really hold. Making the idea of free use hot to Joe was easy. She could make anyone turned on at anything. But making Joe actually willing to go out into the world and offer his body to any person took time. Joe would need to build on experience. A few more weeks of visiting shady theaters or glory holes or dark park benches would set him up to be actually turned on by offering himself to a crowd of strangers. Penny went to the monitors and turned them off. Joe let out a whine. She didn't have a pre-scripted file for what she wanted to do today. She was going off the script for time's sake. She needed him to go deep, deeper than she'd been with him yet, in order to make permanent change while she was away. She needed a spy and a friend and slut and a tease and an extrovert and a flirt and most importantly ... a woman. Joanna was going to be born.

"I was watching that," he whimpered.

Penny slapped him, hard. He cried out in pain, but his face didn't turn with the blow. She would never make him a masochist for fear of losing this power. As soon as pain becomes pleasure, it is difficult to make it a punishment. Pain becomes a reward, and controlling her subject becomes difficult. The only punishment available to a masochist is deprivation, and deprivation makes people wild. Pain makes people listen.

"Don't talk back," said Penny. She said it simply, like one would tell another to not forget about an appointment. Joe knew the power behind the words. Penny didn't need tone to control.

"How are you feeling today?" asked Penny.

"Horny."

"Besides horny." Penny rolled her eyes. He was always horny now. He was more cock than mind.

"Hungry."

"Jesus," sighed Penny. She was wasting her time. She knew she was. But she was still shaking from the blackness, from the thick rage rolling through her like bubbling tar. She needed to calm down, but small talk wasn't working.

"Can I go back to trance?" asked Joe. His mind was so simple now. Penny needed to build a third personality into him. There was already Bad Joe, the same man she met on stage the first night. She would never destroy him. That personality was precious; it was the whole game. After Slut Joe was addicted to cock and cum, after Slut Joe was Joanna, after Joanna was a prostitute or porn star or stripper or all three, after Joe's body and habits and addictions were completely rewritten by Penny, Penny would wake Bad Joe back up. His personality would return, but he'd be a stranger in his body. The same straight and condescending man that stood on stage and mocked Penny, the same one that taunted and teased Nadia, the same one that hit his ex-wife when she talked back to him, would be on her knees, sucking a cock, and loving it. He'll find himself addicted to cum and half a dozen boyfriends trying to reach him for a free ride. He'll wake up one day to strangers grabbing him and fucking him like he's public use because Joanna was free use. He'll navigate that, and if Penny was any good at her job, and she was the best, he'd either submit to it or destroy himself. Penny didn't care either way.

Pablo Neruda once said, "Someday, somewhere - anywhere, unfailingly, you'll find yourself, and that, and only that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life." Penny hoped it was the bitterest hour of Bad Joe's existence.

In the meantime, she played with the second personality: Joe the slut. This was the one that loved cock and cum. This was the one she spoke with now, the one begging to be in a trance. This would eventually become Joanna. Joanna will be a beautiful woman with absolutely no inhibitions. She will be on display for the world, and the world will take and ravage her. It was a transitional personality. Soon, Joe will desperately want to be a woman. He'll realize that women get more cock than men. There are more straight men than gay men. His love of cock will drive him to womanhood, and once there, he will be in paradise. Unless, of course, she meets more scumbags like her past life. Unless she meets bullies and abusers. Unless she has a pimp that mistreats her or a boss that harasses her. And she will. All of Penny's victims become victim to their former abuse.

But today, Penny didn't want any of these. Slut Joe and Joanna the cockslut were useless to her. Today, she needed Joanna the friendly lesbian. She needed someone to get close to Nadia, to befriend Nadia. She needed a spy, and women don't let men in like that. Women especially don't let abusive ex-boyfriends in like that. No. Nadia will meet Joanna some time next week. They're going to hit it off. Joanna will be forward and direct. She'll be needy and flirty. She'll be accomodating. Whenever Nadia is available, Joanna will be available. Whatever Nadia wants to do, Joanna will want to do. She'll report everything to Harold and Penny. She'll help Penny understand the puzzle. And Penny will solve the puzzle. And Penny will win.

She always wins.

Penny snapped her rings together, sending the soundwaves rippling over Joe's body. "Go deep," she commanded, and Joe's eyes closed. She turned on sounds of rain, bells, and chimes, the same sound she played for Nadia.

"Are you in the Rabbit Hole?" asked Penny.

"Yes," intoned Joe.

"What is your name?"

"Joe."

"Spell it."

"J-O-E."

"Is it short for anything?" asked Penny.

"Joseph."

"Do you like your name?"

"It's fine."

"Good," said Penny. She looked up as the door to her chamber opened. Harold was there, naked for her. He was an unattractive man. He was balding and wrinkled, but he stayed in good shape. He was strong. Penny was sure some women would find him attractive but to Penny, he might as well be a dog. All men were dogs.

She waved him in, and he obeyed silently. He had seen her work before. He understood the basics of hypnosis. Sometimes a victim would show up at the penthouse raving mad, desperate for revenge or cock or therapy, and Harold would trance them, calm them, and send them away. He himself had a powerful trance locked deep in his brain: he would rather kill himself than betray Penny. In fact, he would kill himself if he ever tried. But he didn't know about, nor did he need to know, about it. Penny kept him happy, and he liked his work. She didn't need to hold a gun to the head of every person in her life, but it was safer to do so just in case.

"Do you remember your birth?" asked Penny.

"No."

"What did your mother call you when you were born?"

"Joe."

"Did you know how to spell then?"

"No."

"How did she spell it?"

"I don't know," admitted Joe. His face was relaxed. Penny could romp through his mind with a hammer, and he wouldn't care. But Penny wasn't about to go through with a hammer. She was about to be a wrecking ball.

"She spelled it J-O," said Penny.

"She did?" asked Joe. Harold looked up at Penny, nervous. He knew questions were dangerous.

"Are you in the Rabbit Hole?" asked Penny.

"Yes."

Penny gestured for Harold to stroke Joe's cock. He obeyed without question. Joe's cock was quick to stiffen, and a smile spread across his face.

"I want you to imagine your mind like a house, can you do that for me, Joe?"

"Yes."

"In that house, different rooms hold different things. One room holds your memories. One room holds your habits. One room holds your knowledge and so on. Do you see that?"

"Yes."

"One room looks like a prison cell. What is in that room?"

"Bad Joe," said Joe with a pout.

"That's right," said Penny. They had walked through the house of Joe's mind before. Slut Joe helped her lock up Bad Joe. It reinforced his isolation if Slut Joe saw him as a threat and helped Penny keep him away.

"There is another room next to it. What room is that?" asked Penny.

"Slut Joe!" he squealed. His words turned to a more effeminate lisp. He was learning to give subtle public displays of his inner desires. He was starting to identify more and more as a homosexual man. Nowhere was this more powerful for Slut Joe than in his private room of Joe's mind.

"And do you see another room?"

"No." Harold shot a look up at Penny, but kept stroking Joe's cock. Penny was being indelicate, but if she ruined Joe's mind, the world wouldn't mourn it.

"Think. You may have to go through the closet of Slut Joe's room. It's deep in there. A third room. It's tiny."

"I'm looking," said Joe.

Harold sighed with relief. Joe was playing along. He wasn't asking questions. He wasn't refusing. He believed Penny that there was a room, even if he didn't see it. He was accepting it. Good.

The trance went on for another hour. Penny had to describe the closet. It opened into a tiny room. Penny described it like a woman's room. She tried to avoid any girlish terms. She didn't want to make Joanna a child or a bimbo. She had Joe get comfortable there. She said this is Joanna's room and whenever Joe is in this room, he is Joanna. Joanna is a part of him. It's the part that is thin and pretty. It's the part with long hair that likes to look good, likes to be admired. She took as many of Joe's personality traits as she could and made them sound feminine. In the beginning it was about assimilation.

Normally, this would take weeks. Creating a new fascination or addiction is easy. Making a new mind is reserved for divinity. It took God seven days to create the universe. Penny was trying to do it in an afternoon. Joe's universe couldn't be destroyed. She had plans for him. But he did need a new universe to dwell in for a few months. He needed to be put to use immediately.

Penny smiled. Worst case scenario she crushed his mind into a puddle of goo. She could call that bimboism and ship him off to a brothel in Nevada. Some men go for that sort of thing.

The inability to lose spurred Penny forward. She got clumsy a few times and earned harsh looks from Harold. She accidentally let her opinion slip into the trance, calling Joanna a bitch instead of a woman or a slut instead of a flirt. But it didn't matter. Joe didn't matter in the long run.

Nadia mattered. What could make a girl resist her? What could make a girl refuse to go into trance and keep a bubbly smile on her face the whole time? Nadia said she wanted to go under, well then why wouldn't she cooperate? If Nadia was willing, was there something wrong with Penny?

`There's something wrong with Penny,' her mother said at the front desk of the hospital.

`What's wrong with Penny?' Asked the stupid, fat nurse.

What's wrong with Penny?

Penny clenched and unclenched her fist. Harold reached out a hand to her, but she shook it off. Nadia didn't matter either. Penny mattered. There was something wrong with Penny. Something she couldn't touch. Something no one could touch.

At the hospital, no one was able to put her under trance. They tried different inductions. They tried drugs. They tried erotic inductions. They tried everything. But nothing worked on Penny. There was something wrong with Penny and no one could fix her. No one could trance Penny. No one could trance Nadia. No one could trance Penny. No one could trance Nadia.

Penny would. She would do it. She would figure out Nadia's little mind. She would understand. She would overcome. She had to.

She had to.

"Joanna doesn't like cock," said Penny through gritted teeth.

"No cock?" asked Joe.

"Joe likes cock," said Penny. "Slut Joe."

"Slut Joe likes cock."

"But not Joanna. Joanna is a lesbian. Joanna likes pussy."

"Joanna likes pussy."

Penny looked down at Harold. He had dutifully stroked Joe's cock for almost two hours. She nodded, and Harold took Joe's cock into his mouth. Joe moaned.

"Whenever Joanna thinks about pussy, this is how she'll feel."

"Feels good."

"Good girl."

Joe's cock twitched inside Harold's mouth. Penny pulled Harold's mouth away.

"But Joanna can only have that when she thinks about pussy. She's a lesbian."

"Joanna's a lesbian."

"Joe is Joanna."

"Joe is Joanna," repeated Joe.

"Joanna is a lesbian."

"Joanna is a lesbian."

"Joe is Joanna."

"Joe is Joanna."

"Joe is a lesbian."

"Joe is a lesbian," he repeated.

Penny sighed. This was the part she wasn't looking forward to. She pushed down on Joe's shoulders, helping him sink into the chair. Harold stayed in position, his mouth close to Joe's cock. Penny smiled thinking about the limited amount of time that cock had on this earth. Bad Joe had a big surprise coming for him when he looked between his legs in a few months.

Penny pushed down on the sides of her pencil skirt and slid out of it. She pushed down her panties and stepped out of them as well. Joanna was a lesbian, after all. The inductions needed to be tied to actual stimuli, and Penny was the only one with a pussy in this penthouse. Penny straddled the chair and brought her pussy right in front of Joe's mouth.

"What room are you in?" asked Penny.

"Joanna's room."

"Are boys allowed in Joanna's room?"

"No."

"Who is allowed in Joanna's room?"

"Joanna."

"Who does that make you?"

"Joanna," said Joe.

"Say it."

"I'm Joanna."

"No boys allowed in Joanna's room, right?"

"Right."

"Who does Joanna invite into her room?"

"Girls."

"What does that make Joanna?"

"A lesbian."

"What does that make you?"

"A lesbian."

"Say it."

"I'm a lesbian."

"All together," ordered Penny.

"I'm Joanna, and I'm a lesbian."

"Good girl."

Joe's cock twitched. Soon his clit would replicate the response.

"What do they like?" asked Penny.

"They like pussy."

"What do lesbians do?" asked Penny.

"Lick pussy," said Joe.

"What does that mean you like to do?"

"Lick pussy."

"Put it all together now."

"I'm Joanna, and I'm a lesbian. I like to lick pussy."

"Good girl."

Another twitch.

Penny brought her pussy closer to Joe, so they hovered over his lips. Any other time, without the rush, she would have called in another woman to help condition Joe. But she didn't have time. The hardest part of the conversion had to happen tonight. Harold would reinforce and clean things up for her.

"What do you see?" asked Penny.

"Pussy."

"What do you like?"

"Pussy."

"What do you want to do?"

"Lick pussy," said Joe.

"Beg, Joanna."

"Please, can I lick your pussy?"

"No." Penny signaled Harold to get ready. "More," commanded Penny.

"Can I please lick your pussy?"

"More."

"Please, Miss Penny, may I please lick your pussy?"

"How bad do you want it?"

"So bad."

"How bad?" asked Penny.

"I'll do anything. Whatever you want."

"I want you to be yourself Joanna. I want you to be a slutty fucking lesbian." She could feel Harold's eyes dart up at her, but she didn't stop. "I want you to use your tongue every night to make women happy. I want you to be the best cunt licker you can be. I want a total, slutty, pornographic dyke. That's what I want you to do. Do you understand?"

Joe nodded.

"Say it."

"I understand Miss Penny."

"All together now."

"I am Joanna. I am a lesbian. I like to lick pussy. I am a slutty fucking lesbian. I will use my tongue every night to make women happy. I will be the best cunt licker I can be. I will be a total, slutty, pornographic dyke."

"When you lick my pussy, you will feel intense pleasure. As the pleasure builds, you will sink deeper and deeper into trance. Joe will be locked away. There will only be Joanna. The whole house of your mind will be Joanna's room until I lock her away and bring back Joe."

"Yes, Miss Penny."

"The more pleasure you feel, the more you will sink into trance. You will pinch your breasts, your tiny breasts, and sink into trance. Your clitty will throb with pleasure, and you will sink into trance. You will cum, and you will be entirely Joanna."

"Yes, Miss Penny."

"You may lick, Joanna."

Joanna began. She started with slow and shallow licks over the lips of Penny's pussy. As she performed, so did Harold. Slow and shallow licks over Penny's pussy earned Joanna slow and shallow licks over the tip of Joe's cock. Joanna moaned. Lust drove her to boldness, and her tongue lingered on Penny's lips in long strokes. Harold mirrored.

Joanna gave out a moan. This one was softer, more effeminate. Joanna was sinking into herself. Taking on new mannerisms to make sense of the world around her. Joanna didn't have a deep voice like Joe, so she changed it. Joanna took a hair tie from her wrist and put her short hair up into a ponytail.

"Good girl," cooed Penny.

Joanna let out another, softer and higher moan. Joe's cock twitched. Joanna let her tongue go deeper, breaking the surface of Penny's lips. Harold mirrored this by putting the very tip of Joe's mouth into his cock. Joanna was driven by lust and pushed her tongue deeper into Penny's pussy. Ultimately, Joanna's face was pressed up against Penny's mound while her tongue was desperately licking and searching for Penny's clit. Harold mirrored appropriately.

Unfortunately for Joanna, this wouldn't be perfect practice. Penny was not wet. She hadn't been wet in years. All the trances, all the seductions and destructions, did not arouse her. Sex was a powerful tool for degradation and cruelty, as well as a powerful aid in trancing and addiction. But Penny did not transform Joe for her sexual pleasue. She did it for justice. She did it to make the world better and safer.

Joanna licked the dry pussy, and probably never thought better of it. Her next pussy would be soaked from such administrations, but Penny's near asexuality was useful for remaining in control. She didn't succumb like Joanna did to pleasure. Pleasure made Joanna stupid. It clouded her judgement. It made her easy to control. In fact, right now, it was helping Penny eradicate Joe temporarily and instate the reign of Joanna.

Harold was not strong like Penny. He moaned as he sucked Joe's cock. He could pretend to be bored, but Penny had played in his mind. She knew how badly he loved to suck cock. How he could orgasm just from the sensation of a cock tickling the back of his throat. It was good he was so addicted to cock. It kept things professional between Penny and him. It also made him useful for reinforcement and practice.

Joanna's nose was pressed up against Penny's clit as her tongue tried to slide as deep as it could into Penny's pussy. Harold mirrored, deep throating Joe's cock. They were both close. Joanna's moans were getting higher and higher in pitch.

"Finish her," ordered Penny to Harold. The only satisfaction she got from the whole ordeal was the morbid thought that this would be the last orgasm of Joe's cock. She hoped it was terrible.

Both of them came together. Joanna pulled her face away from Penny's pussy. Penny stepped away and put on her panties and skirt while the two moaned and twitched. Joanna's moans were almost squeals now.

"Yes," she panted. "Oh god, yes." Her voice was softer, only slightly higher. She wasn't trying to be obnoxiously effeminate or imitate a stereotypical lisp. Instead, she tried to make her voice husky. It worked for her.

Of course, if it didn't, Penny could have the vocal cords surgically altered.

Penny stepped away, grabbed the towels they kept in the Rabbit Hole for these moments, and threw them to Harold. His face was sticky and covered in cum.

"Sleep," ordered Penny as she snapped her rings together. Joanna's head dropped as her mind went dark. "Clean up," she said to Harold. "My appointment with Camille is when?"

"Five," said Harold, out of breath. A small puddle of semen pooled around his knees.

"You can reinforce later. Call Reyna and see if she can recommend a girl for practice."

"Camille and Reyna in the same day?" asked Harold. He looked uncomfortable to follow the order, but more uncomfortable to challenge Penny.

"I'm glad you see the severity of the situation."

"But why rush? And why call in favors with them over ... this?" said Harold, gesturing to Joanna.

"It isn't about Joanna," said Penny. "Do as I ask."

Penny stormed out of the Rabbit Hole. She had to go get a gift. It was unwise to pay a visit to Camille Kontalban with anything less.

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