Common Ground

The Ordeal of a Conflicted Superheroine


The five women approached each other across the warehouse floor, three from one side, two from the other. Both groups stopped just outside of arm’s reach.


“Who are you? What are you doing here? And why have you brought back to me what I’ve already discarded?”


Clad in a leather body suit and thigh-high platform boots, Ms. Mesmer stood with arms crossed over her chest. She was a strikingly beautiful woman of indeterminate age, and her eyes shone so brightly as to almost glow. Beside her stood two attractive and athletic women wearing PVC leotards, masks, gloves, and belts. They wore nothing on their legs and feet. Since stopping their movement, they had eased into relaxed-but-ready fighting stances.


“My name is Marvella. I’m here to rescue my friends there, Raptor and Red Raven. And though I’ve brought Columbia here to help me, I haven’t brought her back to you. She doesn’t belong to you, she never did, and neither do my friends.”


Marvella stood with her hands at her sides, within easy reach of holstered weapons and tools that hung from her belt. She wore a dark unitard covered by a jacket, along with gloves, boots, and computerized goggles. In stature, she didn’t compare to any of the other four women there, but she still cut an impressive figure with her model’s looks, sleek outfit, and array of technological gadgets.


Beside Marvella, Columbia matched the readied stance of Raptor and Red Raven, who stood across from her. Wearing a patriotic-themed unitard, accented by a cowl and armored vest, she embodied the consummate warrior...except for the too-small flip-flops on her feet, lent to her by Marvella to temporarily replace boots she had recently lost.


“You’re not going to rescue anyone,” Ms. Mesmer said. “Both you and Columbia will now follow me to my lab.”


Marvella could feel a tug on her mind, as Ms. Mesmer spoke. Columbia swayed forward, fighting the compulsion to do as she’d been told.


“You’re quite the hypnotist,” Marvella said, “putting people under your spell just by talking. But nether Columbia, nor I will follow you to your lab.”


Hearing Marvella’s words, Columbia’s resolve strengthened, and she regained her composure. Ms. Mesmer raised an eyebrow and nodded. When she spoke again, her tone had softened.


“I’m impressed, Marvella. You’re quite the hypnotist yourself to keep Columbia from obeying me without question...although she is struggling.”


“She’s fine. She knows she’s not your slave any more. And I never will be. Which means you have to deal with both of us. Make it easy on yourself. Release our friends and surrender. I’ll see that you get good treatment and a fair trial.”


“That does sound like a good idea. If I can’t control your minds, I certainly can’t fight both of you. Those weapons on your belt look nasty, and Columbia is a living weapon herself.”


“Exactly,” said Marvella. “So, give up your control of the ladies there, and we can be on our way.”


“Not so fast, my dear. I said it was a good idea, but there are other good ideas, as well. For example, I can order my lovely slaves to protect me. The fight between the four of you would be nothing less than epic, I’m sure. You would lose, of course, because you don’t want to hurt your friends. Whereas they would kill you without a thought. Literally without a thought because when I command them, they don’t think, they simply do.”


Marvella and Columbia tensed.


“Or, there’s another idea,” Ms. Mesmer went on. “This conflict is between you and me, Marvella. Raptor and Red Raven are merely my pawns. Just as Columbia is your pawn. That’s what she is, isn’t she? Oh, don’t look so indignant. If she weren’t under your control right now, then she would be under mine. Even when I release someone from my power, I maintain enough of a hold on them to bring them back under my influence at any time. The only reason Columbia isn’t at my side, staring you down, is because she’s your slave, following your post-hypnotic suggestions.”


Columbia turned to gape at Marvella, who quickly waved her off and whispered harshly to her:


“Slave: Be still and be quiet.”


Columbia obeyed the command.


“Yes, just as I thought,” Ms. Mesmer said.


“Fine, you’re right. So what’s your idea?”


“Well, I have no desire to fight. It’s just not what I do. But wouldn’t it be amazing for us to watch our slaves battle one another? Wouldn’t it be amazing, wonderful, and oh-so-sexy? I think that both of mine together would offer a good challenge to yours. What do you think?”


“I think...that I won’t lie and tell you that’s a disgusting idea. Because I’m hot for Columbia. And Rator and Red Raven are babes, too. Yeah, I’d enjoy seeing them fight. But not to the death. Or even to grievous injury.”


“Fair enough. I don’t find bruises and broken bones attractive anyway. So we’ll keep it more to wrestling moves: grappling...grabbing...clutching...holding.”


Marvella blushed, as she imagined the sight of her three friends wrestling one another.


“What do you say? Shall we make it happen?” Ms. Mesmer asked.


“Yeah, okay. Let's do it.”


“You’ll need to unfreeze your slave.”


“Right, yeah, unfreeze her. Slave: Fight Raptor and Red Raven. Don’t hurt them. Just incapacitate them. And, uh, remove as much of their outfits as you can within those limits.”


“Yes, Mistress,” Columbia said.


Ms. Mesmer smiled sweetly at Raptor and Red Raven, and then gestured towards Columbia. Her slaves nodded and moved forward. Columbia kicked off her flimsy shoes and charged ahead.


A moment later, the three heroines lay in a jumble on the floor. Hands grasped, bare feet kicked out, heads ducked, shoulders rolled, and legs scissored. Gloves, masks, and belts tore off and flew from the areas they covered. Body suits shifted and ripped to reveal bare skin beneath.


“Wow,” Marvella said.


“Excellent,” Ms. Mesmer said.


After a few minutes, Red Raven lay prone on her back, her eyes closed and her head lolling to one side. Raptor also lay on her back, caught in a headlock by Columbia, from which she couldn’t break free. Suddenly, she pulled a tiny canister from somewhere within what was left of her costume. She lifted it up and released a concentrated spray into Columbia’s face.


Almost instantly, Columbia lost her grip on her opponent and fell backwards. Her eyes rolled back, and she lay still. Raptor started to sit up, but then finally succumbed to fatigue and dropped back down. Though her eyes remained open, they stared blankly in front of her, and a line of drool ran from her open mouth.


“Cheater,” said Marvella. “Columbia should have won that.”


“Who cares? I like this outcome just fine. Three gorgeous babes, all but naked, lying unconscious before me...How delicious! Don’t you agree?”


“Yeah, I do agree.”


“I like you, Marvella. You have a lot of heart. You have the makings of an excellent villainess.”


“No! I’m not a villainess. I’m a superheroine.”


“A superheroine who brainwashes her friend into being her slave?” Ms. Mesmer said. “And agrees to have her fight two more of her brainwashed friends for sport?”


“I...I just wanted to help Columbia. But when I hypnotized her, it felt so good to make her do what I wanted. I couldn’t give that up. She’s so sexy and powerful. And I feel sexy and powerful when I control her.”


“And these two?”


"Seeing them under your control is almost as much of a turn-on as controlling Columbia is.”


“That’s good,” said Ms. Mesmer. “That’s very good.”


“No, it’s horrible! I’m supposed to rescue them. I’m supposed to fight you or do whatever it takes to bring them home.”


“We’re not going to fight, my dear. There’s no need. We’re on common ground here. I can give you what you want.”


“You’ll release Raptor and Red Raven?”


“Oh, no. That’s not what I meant at all.”


Ms. Mesmer snapped her fingers. The three unconscious heroines opened their eyes and raised their heads. In another instant, they leapt to their feet. Ms. Mesmer snapped her fingers again. As one, they turned to Marvella.


“What?” Marvella asked incredulously. “Wait, no--”


To her credit, Marvella had two weapons drawn by the time the trio of enslaved women reached her. But it did no good. They quickly disarmed her and held her tight.


“Columbia! What are you doing? Columbia! Uh, Slave: Let me go! You are under my control, not hers!”


“We all know that isn’t true,” Ms. Mesmer said. “And it never was. But I was telling the truth earlier. I can give you what you want. And I will. Now, as I said when we first met, you will follow me to my lab.”


“No! No, please!”


Ms. Mesmer turned and began walking back the way she had come. The four women behind her followed, three of them on her command, the fourth by physical coercion.


“Make sure our new friend is ready by the time we reach the lab,” Ms. Mesmer called back over her shoulder.


As she walked, Columbia lifted Marvella up in a bear hug. Raptor removed the captive’s belt and goggles, and then she and Red Raven each took hold of one of her legs. They then worked to strip off her boots and stockings. When Marvella screamed and kicked in protest, Raptor cautioned her:


“Silence or sleep are your two options. Which will it be?”


Marvella quieted and let her gear be removed. When it was off, Columbia lowered her to the ground. Now barefoot and helpless, she walked among the controlled heroines, whose ranks she knew she would soon join.


When they reached the lab, Marvella saw the oversized recliner chairs connected to the brainwashing machines, all as Columbia had described to her under hypnosis.


“If you please,” Ms Mesmer said to her, indicating the nearest chair.


“I don’t please at all.”


“Columbia will place you in the chair then.”


Marvella shook her head and moved to the chair. She climbed into it. As soon as she was seated, steel bands snapped shut around her neck, waist, wrists, and ankles.


“Do you really think this is what I want?” Marvella asked. “To be brainwashed? To serve and pleasure you?”


“Of course not, my dear. This is simply a necessity. You have a lot of heart, but also a conscience. If I didn’t do this, you’d turn on me. And eventually, you’d give up control over Columbia, too. Oh, it might take a while. And you might occasionally relapse. But, as you say, you are a superheroine. You try to do what’s right. So in order to give you what you want, I need to erase that conscience. I need to free you from it and let you have the fun you want.”


“You make it sound like you’re doing me a favor.”


“Don’t be silly. I’m doing me a favor. I want you for myself. I want to control you. How could I not? You’re sexy and smart, and we share similar tastes in women...and power. We have all that common ground between us. And that’s why, even when you’re under my control, you can have power. You can control my other slaves. You can have these three as your own, and any others that you want. You and all of them will serve me. But that won’t bother you. In fact, it will make you happy.”


“Yeah, because I’ll think and feel whatever you want me to.”


“Yes, you will, my dear,” Ms. Mesmer said. “You most certainly will.”


A robotic arm above and behind the chair moved forward, and a domed helmet slowly lowered from it towards Marvella’s head. She stared up at it in fascination and horror. Then her transfixation ended, and she began squirming and struggling against her bonds in a futile effort to avoid what was about to happen.


In another moment, the helmet came to rest over her scalp. A light on its front began to pulse, and a loud hum from within it sounded. Almost immediately, Marvella lost her fight against the machine. Under its power, she couldn’t speak or move, or concentrate or think. Her struggles ceased, and she went still, except for an occasional murmur or twitch.


And then, as her new mistress looked on gleefully, and her three friends stood by in uncaring mindlessness, she was wholly, completely, inexorably brainwashed.


- The End -