A Leashed Tiger Ch. 01

Kevin is built like a stick, and very short, too. I don't bodyshame, of course, but the height difference does play into my hands here, just like in Carter's office. As I close in, he has no choice but to look up at me.

My physical dominance clearly asserted, it's time to put him in his place for good. With or without the aid of my powers.

"So, Kev," I say, feigning a casual tone. "I hear you've started a blog. Pretty interesting views in there."

His pale skin immediately reddens -- whether from embarassment or anger I cannot say. He points a finger up at me. "Look, I know you don't agree with my views, but don't come lecture me. This is a free country. If you don't like my blog, don't read it."

"Dude," I tell him, arching an eyebrow. "You post one misogynistic rant after another. Honestly, do you really expect no pushback at all?"

"Oh, I expect feminists like you to go after me regardless of what I do!"

Damn, that victim complex. I respond with a bitter laugh. "Do you honestly think your actions have nothing to do with this? How could I, or any other girl on campus will ever feel comfortable around you when it's clear you don't even see us as people?"

"I don't care what you think," he says, and while it comes off a little petulant, he's beginning to calm down now. "Just like you don't care what I think. Maybe you would if I were six foot tall and had the right jawline, but whatever. You can be a hypocrite on your own time, I just want to be left alone. Alright?"

"I'm a lesbian, you absolute dork," I say, rolling my eyes in exasperation. Alright. As it turns out, patience does not number among my infinite qualities. What good will I was willing to grant him has just evaporated. It's time to finish this.

Now, thankfully glasses and sunglasses are no obstacles to my power. So when I sneer down at Kevin, and push myself into his mind, they can't save him.

Just like that, at a snap of fingers, the fury of the sea in storm hits him like a ton of bricks.

He takes a step back, resisting -- and this is real resistance, alright. I always learn something about my targets when I first invade their minds. Kevin may be pathetic, he may be drowning in rationalizations about why girls avoid him like the plague -- but he's no coward like Carter.

He's determined, fierce. Bizarrely, he feels smart to my mind's touch. This is a person who could have been so much more than this, had he not been so emotionally maladaptive.

That's good. It means there is hope for him, after I break him. Thanks to my power, I can achieve the equivalent of years and years of therapy in a singular encounter.

He just needs to stop standing against the surging waves. They all do, in time, of course. While his spirit may be surprising, it will not avail him in this battle of wills against me. I will batter him into submission, and then change him into a better person.

"Kevin," I tell him, prepping him for when I take over his mind. "You will always be honest and truthful."

He twitches, trying with all his strength not to absorb the impact of my command, but the waves carry it now. I don't need to repeat it. It will be battered into his skull soon enough.

I am suddenly sorry he's wearing his sunglasses. The eyes of my victims always provide so much information about the whole process, the stage of their readiness to receive my teachings.

I find myself drawn closer to him, so close that he can feel my breath on his face. I gaze deep into his sunglasses, looking for a hint of his panicky eyes as he goes under. Looking for a flicker of understanding between us, or some precious insight into the kind of broken, traumatized person he is -- right before I fix him for free.

Well, mostly for free. Maybe I'll have him carry my books in class, give me rides in his car, or something. Although to be fair, taking his incel blog down is a reward in and of itself.

Unfortunately, I get no glimpse of his eyes beneath the sunglasses. They are annoyingly polished to a high sheen, so much so that, under the glaring streetlight, they could almost work like a mirror.

In fact, I see my own face reflected in his sunglasses, while the rolling tide of my power engulfs his entire awareness. I can make out my flowing brown hair, the way the light accentuates the paleness of my skin.

And my own eyes.

Absurdly, it occurs to me that I've never seen my eyes while I use my powers. I've always assumed they must look the same, but apparently, I've been wrong all these years. Because my eyes barely look human at all.

It's like an eclipse is taking place inside my irises. They're black circles, ringed by pure searing light, like a solar corona. A shiver trickles down my back as I contemplate them.

The wrath of a raging sun, the relentlessness of the sea, the dynamism of fire...

This is a terrible power. It's wondrous and terrifying at once. Immediately understandable, but also alien. For the first time in my life, I consider that maybe this isn't a gift.

That maybe the universe didn't award me with it for any reason at all.

That maybe using it, and using it for good, are contradictions in terms.

Its true nature may have escaped me so far. Have I been like a child toying with its dad's gun? Where does this come from, and why do I look like that when I wield it?

I don't know these answers, but I feel sufficiently disquietened that I would almost recall my power... if I could. But that is impossible. It will carry out its work to completion, and nothing will stop it.

No one can withstand it. I feel like I never really stopped to contemplate what that means.

No one can withstand it.

And as I grow closer to the sunglasses, and my own eyes loom larger and larger in my own vision...

For the first time... I feel the roaring sea push its way into my mind.

***

In its infinite might, my power drowns out the totality of my perception.

It's deafening, blinding, all-encompassing. It's everywhere, coming at me from every side, battering at every defense, conscious and unconscious.

Even so, I have just enough spare capacity to realize the tragic extent of my mistake.

I'm hypnotizing myself, and all because of the goddamn dorky sunglasses.

In a desperate, frantic attempt, I try to call my power back, but it's useless, I know it is. Once unleashed, it will run its course. It will finish what it started.

I need to break eye contact, but I can't move a muscle. The battle against the surging sea is taking up all I have to give. But Kevin doesn't know what's happening, and now, with the power passing through him and hitting me as the target, he should start to regain his faculties.

I just need him to break eye contact with me. Just once. Just for a moment.

If I can hold on until then, my mind will be my own... and I'll make sure to knock off his sunglasses before I subdue him.

If...

Come on, come on, you stupid incel, do something! Bloody move! I grit my teeth, willing him with all my despair to snap out of it already, but he can only stare ahead, slack-jawed, leaving me at the mercy of my own reflection.

I take a small measure of fierce pride in noticing how fanatical I am, in resisting to this onslaught. As the seconds turn into minutes, I give up ground, but not too much. Nobody's ever held out this long.

Whether that's because I'm the source of the power, or my experience with it, or just my inner strength, I cannot determine. But my pride rapidly subsides when I remind myself that eventually, everyone succumbs.

That's when the adrenaline from the fight slows down, and fear begins to replace it.

I have no idea what will happen once the power has run its course. Will I be a slave to myself? How does that even work?

No no no, that doesn't make sense. I should be just like everyone else. I will be receptive to instructions, but what happens if I don't receive any? I should snap out of it after a while, of course, but how can I wiggle out of Kevin's presence in the meantime?

Maybe I should stop resisting. The sooner I stop, the sooner the effect will wane.

But that also carries risk. What if Kevin snaps out of it earlier than I do, and... programs me?

No! I need to resist for just a little longer. In a moment he will regain control of his own body, and break eye contact, I know he will. Then... Then I can finish the job.

The thought alone is enough to grant me a second wind. I push like crazy, roaring at the titanic effort required to hold the storm at bay.

Unfortunately, it doesn't last.

For the first time, I experience that holiest of moments from the wrong side. The snap.

The way the walls of my mind crumble, and the steadily-building pressure can finally break through with no opposition. The way my pupils dilate, my facial features distend, and my mouth opens in a surprised oh.

I sigh in surrender, my muscles going limp, my neck offered to my own yoke.

Like so many victims before me, I conform to the force currently busy reshaping me.

And that's when, with dread, I hear once more the words spoken by my own voice.

Kevin, I said earlier. You will always be honest and truthful.

I know my power. I know how it interprets semantics, so to speak. This is no longer a command directed to Kevin, not thanks to his sunglasses. Therefore, the power settles for the next best alternative.

My own voice distorts and morphs, and the words spoken back at me chill me down to the core.

You will always be honest and truthful with Kevin.

Then, suddenly, Kevin draws in breath in front of me. He looks around, but it's too late to save me. I've been crushed by my own power. My only hope is to get out of here before he realizes I'm open to programming.

Unfortunately, I can't just bolt. The mental and physical exhaustion, the compulsion I've just been placed under... it all renders me quite passive for now, just like it left him completely paralyzed earlier.

A few minutes. I just need a few minutes of time, and then I'm free.

That's when Kevin decides to speak at last, looking at me through his sunglasses. "What the hell just happened??" He shouts, panicking.

Damn.

I am compelled to answer his question honestly, but I bite my lip, doing my best to resist. Is there a way I can answer truthfully, while still protecting myself?

"Calm down," I say, in a surprisingly even tone of voice. "You don't want to draw attention to us right now." It's technically true, and that allows me just enough leeway to avoid blurting out the truth. Maybe. For now.

"What the hell did you do to me?" He says, but in a lower voice this time. Unfortunately, I can't fight the compulsion a second time. I grimace in horror as my own words betray me.

"I've tried to use my mind control powers to hypnotize you and reform you away from misogyny and incel ideology," I say, as if it's the most normal thing in the world. I don't need

Kevin to take off his sunglasses to know his eyes are bulging out of his orbits right now.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!"

"Nothing is wrong with me," I say, again in perfect honesty. "I use my powers for good. Well... One thing is wrong with me. I've accidentally hypnotized myself, and I am now open and receptive to instructions."

Oh, for god's sake...

"What?" Kevin asks, taking a step back from me, as if I've gone crazy. Granted, it wouldn't be surprising if he assumed that. "Elaborate, please."

"It means I'm ready to be programmed. Moreover, I need to always be honest and truthful to you."

The change in Kevin's body language is subtle, but inescapable. Shock, terror, confusion -- they're all slowly replaced by curiosity. And, eventually, by something else.

"Follow me," he snaps.

"What..." I say, gulping. "What are you doing?"

"I said, follow," he says, snapping his fingers, and I hate how jerkily my body responds to the instruction.

He hasn't programmed any command into me, not yet. But in the pliable state induced by my power, I follow him meekly -- even though my steps are halting, as I fight my own mind for control over my body.

We walk all the way back to his room, my heart pounding into my chest as dread threatens to sweep me under.

Dread... and rage. This isn't a game anymore, I know. I've tried an aggressive takeover of an incel's mind, and now, I find myself in his hands. I... don't know what's going to happen to me.

And I'm angry.

Angry at myself for making such a stupid mistake, angry at him for escaping my clutches and standing me up in such a humiliating way, angry at the world.

Once we're inside, I hear him ominously close his lock behind me.

This is a nightmare come true.

Please, please let him waste time. If he waits long enough, I will regain my faculties. Please.

It's only as he sits on a stuffy armchair in his room that I finally stop to contemplate what a pigsty this place is. Empty energy drink cans and beer bottles litter the floor. The far corner opposite the bed is dominated by a blundering mountain of discarded pizza boxes.

If not for the tragic impotence I find myself in, I would laugh. What a living, breathing stereotype he is.

The disgust must show on my face, because for a moment, he actually looks embarassed. He has a girl over, so to speak, and his room is revolting.

Then, he must remember why we're here.

"How do I program you? Tell me honestly and truthfully," he says, modeling his instruction on my earlier words, which makes me gulp in fear.

I should not underestimate him. He may be slimy and gross, but he isn't stupid.

"You issue statements that become true for me," I say, betraying my most dangerous secrets like I'm just telling him what time it is. "Like I did when I tried to tell you to be honest. The way you phrase them has an impact in how tight, literal, or loose the imparted instructions are."

"I see," he says. "Say you regain your powers now. What would your actions be? Tell me honestly and truthfully."

He wants truth? He'll have it. I still tower over him, I can still intimidate him. So I once again push into his comfort zone, looking down at him.

"I don't know. But if you put a single grubby finger on me? Easy," I say, in a perfectly neutral, emotionless tone. "I will end you."

He flinches at that, but I continue. "It wouldn't be about your ideas anymore. This time, it would be personal. I would step on your neck so hard that you'd carry the imprint of my boots with you for the rest of your life, like it's a bar code."

I take a further step, until our bodies are nearly touching. "I never take men into my harem, but I'd make an exception just to have you as a bootlicker. I'd make sure you live and die a virgin for the rest of your days, and that your only interaction with women takes place with you on your knees."

My point made, I feel confident that at least I'm not going to get molested. I cross my arms, staring daggers at him, but all Kevin does is look at me with a frown. Then, his fingers brush against my boobs.

I flinch and yelp, taking a step backwards. I open and close my mouth, wordlessly. Did my intimidation have no effect on him? It's the first time a man has ever touched me like this, and it's revolting.

But what's even more humiliating is that he's so openly defying me. He doesn't fear me.

Not anymore.

"Harem, you said?" His lips curl into a smile. "My, my. You're less of a feminist than I thought. And isn't that an interesting concept?"

The barb stings, but before I can flinch or respond, he resumes speaking. "We can discuss your harem later. For now, I have two core instructions for you."

Immediately, the jaws of my power snap shut around me again. I feel my sight lose focus, my breath coming in ragged gulps. I can't believe that this is it, that he's actually going to make use of this window to try and program me.

"Yes..." I say, trembling at how much I sound like Carter did earlier in his office.

"You will never, ever try to hypnotize me again," Kevin says. "You will always, immediately hypnotize yourself on a reflective surface when I command you to receive new instructions. And you will, at all times, recognize me as having authority over you."

I beat desperately against the glass of my own mind as he steps in my personal space this time. His hands rub against my jeans, cupping my ass.

He hasn't forbidden me from punching him in the face, and I doubt a generic reference to authority covers sexual harassment. But my defeat to my own power is still too recent. I'm too hollowed out to oppose him.

For now.

I squint at him, gritting my teeth. I know I will be back in control. A normal person would have been fundamentally altered by these instructions, but not me.

I am the source of this power. I can slip the yoke, eventually. He's going to make a mistake at some point.

And when he does, he will understand what happens when you try to leash a tiger.

"You know Serena," he says, whispering as his lips brush against my neck. "I'm happy you tried this on me. Now we can have some real fun together. This whole situation is giving me ideas."

I shiver in hatred, disgust, and fear as his lips nibble at my ear.

"So many ideas..."

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