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AnonyMPC here, with another new Phil Phantom Tribute. For those who aren't familiar with these, my Phil Phantom Tributes are my attempt to honor, capture the style of and deal with themes by a prolific erotic author of days gone by. It's low characterization, high smut, and fast-paced, not much like my previous work but, hopefully, good for a good quick fap. In this case, it's a particcular subtype that from this point forward I'm probably going to refer as Phantom Towns - that is, a town that, after some inciting (and occasionally magical) incident has fallen almost completely into perversion and debauchery. I've written several such stories before, just never labelled them, but I'll probably make them a series at least on AO3, for those that like this type. Usually these stories are directly connected to the 'Bored God' universe idea (many stories are loosely connected to it, but these ones more than most). This one definitely is, and makes use of a few characters created by Danaume (and used with permission).
Hey there. Saw you sitting here and thought I'd give you the old town welcome. I can always spot a newbie. Well, most of us can, our town's not the largest, and we're off the beaten path, so anyone who doesn't immediately know where they're going does stick out. If you're looking for something specific like the local B&B or the town square, I can give you directions, but maybe not here with a purpose, maybe you're just one of those wandering types. Taking the road less traveled. If so, this place certainly counts. Have you heard much about our town? Y'sure? It's okay if you have. Fine, I'll take you at your word. But I should probably warn you, you need to watch what you say while you're here. I don't mean swearing. If swearing offends you, well, pardon my French but you need to get the fuck out of here and not look back, because we're pretty free with words like that. No, I mean you need to watch the words you use and where you use them. Words have power. Some of them have a lot of power. Some of them are even a kind of magic.
Our town discovered that quite a while back, at the Spelling Bee. You can almost hear in my voice how I think about it with capital letters, can't you? A lot of us do. It was just an ordinary school spelling bee, but it's town legend now, it wasn't just any spelling bee, it was The Spelling Bee, the momentous one where we all found out that certain Magic Words existed in our town that could shape the rest of our lives. Most of us found out then, anyway. Though some people had to have known about them before the Bee. One person clearly did, but too many people were affected by them for just one man to use. At least that's my thinking... so logically whoever gave them to us must have shared, told other people about them before the secret got out. We don't know who that was, the one who started it all. Some still assume to this day that it must be the proctor of many a spelling bee, including the one where it all first went down, since he was moving out of town to retire and that was due to be his last. I know people who, to this day, insist he planned it as either a gift or a fuck-you to us all. Of course, he wound up staying anyway, so I don't think he knew. I think it was just coincidence that he put that word on the event's word list.
I think he found out the surprising effect it had along with the rest of us, when little Cindy Rogers was up on stage, waiting for the next word that would either keep her dream of advancing to the national spelling bee alive, or shoot it down. That was when Richie, the proctor, read the next word on the list. I suppose it could have been any word that triggered it, but the word iss archaic. I don't mean that literally, the word 'archaic' doesn't do anything as far as I can tell, but I mean the word is an old word, not really used anymore, which is why it could have been lurking like a linguistic land mine for a long time before it landed on the list. I won't use the word itself--you never know who's listening--but it's supposedly an old word that meant hungry. I'm sometimes accused of being a cunning linguist, but I don't remember ever hearing that word before that day.
Now, like most of the kids, Cindy had been cramming and doing her best to memorize unusual words. When she heard that particular one, she didn't ask for a definition. She didn't ask to use the word in a sentence. She certainly didn't try to spell the word. What she did was, without any fuss, safely but immediately, dropped to her knees, opened her mouth wide and extended her tongue. Maybe you'd think she was really smart, demonstrating her knowledge of the word by opening her mouth and pretending to be waiting for food, but she didn't look clever while she was doing it. In fact, she had a distinctly glazed look on her face, like she was in some kind of trance. Considering how young she was, you might think she was just being silly, making a goofy face, unaware of any sexual context, context she shouldn't carry with her at her young age, associations some people would think of anyway, because people have dirty minds. In such a public place, you instead might guess that it was some kind of dumb dare Cindy got put up to by her friends, and if you had a particularly suspicious mind, you might suspect something dark was going on at home, that she was taught to go down to her knees like this by a perverted relative and something, maybe the stress of competition, triggered little Cindy into assuming the same position she took while being abused, and the disassociation that followed along with it. I won't say you'd have to have a dirty mind for that, because, if you ever saw one of the videos of that moment, you'd agree Cindy looked like she would be totally unbothered if some man just used her tongue as an on-ramp to her mouth and got off down her young throat. A little girl her age acting like that, it's only natural to suspect abuse.
Unless, of course, you noticed she wasn't the only one doing that. The two other girl finalists also got out of their chairs and took to their knees, tongue out. So did about ninety-five percent of the women and girls in the audience, at least those over the age of eight. That seemed to be the cut off… a few younger than that did the pose, of course, but as far as we can tell, all of them were just monkey-see, monkey-do. They must have guessed it was like when when everybody did the wave at a ball game or stood up in Church, and just saw the pattern and assumed it was just what you were supposed to do at a spelling bee.
There was one steady camera pointed at the stage, for an official record and so we could check in case of disputes, another on the proctor and judges and those sitting behind them, and various parents who were recording on their phones, usually because they had kids on stage, but also able to capture the crowd if they turned. Looking over all that footage, it was easy to tell by the delay which girls were affected by that particular magic word, and who were just going along with things. Though these days fakers respond just as quickly as those who can't resist, so if you learn the magic word and try it out, you can't really even really be be sure they're really affected, unless you know the girl's age. If she's under eight, almost certainly she's just playing with you or imitating Mommy or a big sister... and you know kids of that age, if you make her gag, the parents're going to hear about it, and you don't want that, so you should probably just stay away from the really young stuff. Almost every other girl and woman in town, whether little girl, teenager, adult, or even old lady, if you were to find out that magic word and whisper it in her ear, as long as she's still got her hearing, she's probably still going to drop to her knees, and you'll know I'm telling the truth and she's in a trance. I mean, nothing's certain… sometimes the one-to-five percent who don't fall into the magic word's compulsion will still fake compliance, just to see what you'll do.
A few guys did the position as well, by the way, at that first spelling bee... or at least people who at that point presented as guys. We know at least several were trans girls who weren't yet out, although it's a common belief that a couple actual guys were added just for variety, for those who like boy mouths... probably because deep down these are the type who just really wanted to open their mouths and accept anything. Though, maybe some were singled out as targeted revenge for some past humiliation, or maybe there was just some accidental susceptibility to whatever programming was done. There are lots of theories, but it's pretty clear that the openly trans girls in town all tend to comply on hearing the girl-focused magic words. Legitimately, I mean, not just faking because they also enjoy sucking cock like some guys do, which also happens. Statistically, at least one or two should have been immune, but none of the trans girls can seem to help going to their knees any more than at least ninety-five percent of cis girls, which really says something and has changed a few attitudes. Even old Jackson Tyson, who used to annoy all his neighbors complaining about the 'LGBT agenda' and lectured guys about looking too effeminate, has started using his granddaughter's preferred pronouns now that he's decided she looked real good in a skirt on her knees, and that a girly mouth is a terrible thing to waste when it lives with you. The old coot's going to a big city Pride for the first time this year with her… he still says he hates looking under a skirt and seeing a dick and balls, but you can just push that out of the way and use the slut's ass. I guess it's progress, anyway. Though some things never change… he's still cheap as fuck, wants everybody else to chip in for his granddaughter's bottom surgery when she's old enough.
Lots of people have made changes since that one big Spelling Bee, but it took some time, and I'm not sure you can imagine the shockwaves that event put through the community, the realization that somebody had put a post-hypnotic suggestion in the minds of about half the population… and, moreover, what we learned soon after, that the suggestion included an instruction to forget everything immediately upon waking up. For that word, any good shock can break the trance... like snapping fingers, clapped hands, or roughly being shaken like they were having any other kind of bad dream. That is, of course, only so long as their mouth isn't full. Put a cock, or anything else, in their mouth and you can slap their face, reposition them, even have a friend fuck them in the ass and they won't wake up until their mouth is no longer being used. You can even choke them a little, though if they're about to pass out that does end the trance and you're likely to get a fully conscious girl biting down in panic at the surprise discovery of a cock in her mouth, so I don't advise it. Learn from the mistakes of Steven Hitchcock, now called Stitchcock, but never to his face, cause he doesn't show it around here since the divorce, and there's still a judicial inquest waiting for him.
Anyway, none of that kind of thing happened at the Spelling Bee, so everyone was roused from their first trances pretty quickly, and stood back up like nothing happened… and in fact, most of the affected insisted nothing DID happen. Nobody except the copycats remembered going to their knees, they didn't remember whatever sound or action woke them up, and they certainly didn't remember extending their tongues like a free use blowjob station. If not for the videos being taken, I think every one would have assumed it was a mass prank or they were being gaslit.
Well, possibly not, since the same group dropped to their knees a few more times, just when people were explaining what happened, because the same word was said during the explanation. The first use of that magic word was amplified, part of the show, but subsequent uses were more local, so even those hit by the first wave were able to watch other people respond. The videos, interestingly enough, didn't trigger anyone watching it. The magic of the magic word has its subtleties. For example, if someone's in a situation like driving or holding a hot pot or something where complying with the suggestion immediately is dangerous, they do whatever they need to make themselves safe, and only then do they make themselves so, so vulnerable with that pose. If they can't go into a kneeling position because they're in a car seat or whatever, they sit calmly with their mouth open. And, it must be an actual human voice saying the word, without an obstruction like a wall or window between you and the speaker. Recordings only seem to trigger the suggestion if the person hearing it believes it's a real person speaking live in front of them. Sometimes people can be fooled, but though everyone in earshot heard the word when it was part of the Spelling Bee roster, many of the same people subsequently watched the videos of what just happened to no effect, other than the shock as they then witnessed a phone recording the view shifting off Cindy, as the husband holding it turned to capture their wife or daughter on their knees. Women doing the filming didn't tend to get much of a view of course... the phones weren't dropped, just placed on their hands on their knees, but it doesn't take a genius to extrapolate what happened.
It was a sobering realization, that this... mind hack existed, that it could be triggered by a simple word, that what seemed like nearly every lady in the building (over the age of eight) was susceptible. We never did crown a winner of that spelling bee because it turned into an impromptu town meeting to try and deal with this issue, identify the borders of the problem and see if there was a way to put the genie back in the bottle.
It wasn't going to be easy, of course. By this point the rare word that got nearby girls to drop to their knees and open wide was burned into everyone's mind, even the victims, and before long it also became clear the afflicted wouldn't remember what they did while under the word's influence. So, basically, the whole town knew. Not everybody in town was at the Bee, but you know how it is in a small town, the word spread fast. Some left the event right away, too, possibly eager to see how far the magic word extended, or, with a sense of how easy to abuse this new information was, rushing home to isolate the women and girls in their lives for their protection, or to make use of this brainwashing on someone in particular before somebody found a way to undo it, or, sometimes, both at the same time.
It was bound to happen. We're a good town with good people, and you wouldn't think most of us would violate somebody's trust like that, upon learning of this vulnerability… but every town's got its secret predators, and it wasn't just the adult population who knew, a lot of teens and kids knew too and they don't have the best judgment. Imagine a horny teenage boy suddenly discovered that with a simple word, he could make his single mother kneel at his feet, let him place his virgin dick on her tongue, and then mindlessly suck while he fucked her mouth, until he emptied his adolescent balls down her throat… and then also know that, when he snapped his fingers, she would have no memory of what had just happened? It's a lot of power for a teenager. For an adult, too. And surely some who left did so because they couldn't trust their kids to be alone together, if they'd skipped the Bee and, unsupervised at home, were texted the news of the magic word by a peer. It was clear Mom couldn't go home alone, either, Dad had to come along to make sure she didn't get used, and if he left his wife at the meeting to watch the kids himself, then who knows what might happen to her on the way home? So not everyone who left was actually suspicious, but everyone was suspicious of everyone right then. My friends Jeff and Mary took their daughter right home, trusting in me to fill them in on what happened, and as protective as they are of that girl, I have absolute faith Tina didn't get used like that, not by them… but I also know there were people in town who would have voiced some theories about why they left and implied a martial threesome. At least, they would have if they didn't know that I was there, and that I was likely to smack them across the face for daring to suggest something like that about my friends.
Those of us who stayed, well, we all tried to come to grips with this new, pressing issue as best we could, did a few controlled experiments with volunteers, but mostly rolling around the questions that were suddenly vital but nobody seemed to have answers to… how could this be possible, how long has it been going on, and who did this to us?
The last took up much of the focus. It's human nature, I think, we wanted somebody to blame, somebody to put in jail, to even torture until he promised to undo the insidious thing he'd done. At least, most of us did, or claimed to, but it soon devolved into baseless finger-pointing. And, as usual, people often jumping to conclusions that didn't make sense past a moment's thought. Like when somebody pointed out Father Quinn had private access to anyone who's gone into a confessional. Suddenly everyone was talking about the Church's previous scandals with sexual abuse, and covering it up, and speculating that maybe Father Quinn had been one of those perverts moved to avoid causing a fuss, one who found a perfect way to cover his own tracks. Father Quinn used to do simple coin tricks to impress kids, and maybe, the thought came from the murdering crowd, he learned some sort of hypnotism with a shiny coin.
Just stupid prejudice, and oddly, more stupid prejudice cleared him, or at least took the heat off, when Jackson pointed out if it was a Church thing, it'd be more likely little boys. That swayed more people than the far more logical point, that not everyone who responded to the magic word were even churchgoers. You'd be surprised at how many people believe that 'Priests secretly fuck little boys' stereotype. I mean, sure, it happens, position of trust and all, some people will abuse it, but I happened to know Father Quinn was as straight as they come and much more interested in wives than little kids. Although he probably indulged in a few entranced little girls just for the novelty before he finally had to leave town and his replacement showed up. That he was willing to leave, alone, should eliminate him as a suspect. His goodbye note said that Father Wharton was better equipped to cope with all the sin in our town, and sure, at that time he had a coming baby of his own to take care of, one maybe he didn't want to raise here in case it was a girl… but honestly, I don't think that was why he chose to leave, I think that getting married Christians to cheat became too easy, and it lost most of the thrill. Pity, I always liked Father Quinn, despite what he did to my own short-lived marriage. He had a way of keeping his sense of humor in the worst of situations… I remember that time during the first meeting, when the tide had finally turned and most people were coming around to the idea that he was innocent, he immediately joked that he was happy to see more parishioners going to their knees... but not like that!
I didn't see anyone other than me cracking a smile, they were too busy looking for another target, someone who could have done this. The schools were the next logical choice, because of all the kids affected, and add to that the dawning horror that if adults also succumbed, then maybe this had been going on for years and years, and it was only now that the rare word had been spoken in public that we realized it.
The kids, by the way, were mostly taken to a side room while we had this discussion, monitored by a female teacher, with eager seven-year-olds instructed by their parents to scream their heads off if anyone said 'the magic word,' which they had to whisper in ears to prevent it from taking effect on a wider scale. That was our first defense against this, and the first time we started using 'the magic word' in place of saying the actual word, which graduated to 'magic words' when we realized there were more of them.
But school would be a prime time to brainwash people, and it was just barely plausible that some teacher had done classes in hypnotism that nobody remembered, or, that on those lazy days we all loved when the teacher just brought in a TV-on-a-stand and played a video for us, some of those videos might have had subliminal messages in them. Our teachers are perpetually underpaid and with the amount of shit they had to put up with, it was easily to believe that one of them might find a way to add a little extra perk to the job. If they're already molding young minds why not mold them with an exploitable backdoor for free oral service?
We've seen less ambitious examples of the same mindset over the years, teachers who took advantage of the trust they had to groom and molest one little girl or boy, or hide a camera somewhere to make some private jack-off material. Usually this was male teachers of course, but we did recently have one English teacher, Mrs. Carr, at the high school, who had sex with two of her freshman boys. They certainly weren't complaining, but it was hard to keep a secret like that, so of course it came out and Judy was fired and got arrested. Divorced, too, considering her husband had a vasectomy and she was six months pregnant when the boys finally bragged, but arrested was probably the biggest consequence (though, I noticed, Judy got a much lighter sentence than the male Drama teacher a few years earlier, who had a very special role for a female sophomore, even though in that one no pregnancy was involved).
In fact, these situations of sexual impropriety in schools usually came out pretty quickly, and when it did, sure, I always demanded their head like anybody else, but secretly, I understood. I once thought of being a teacher myself. I even occasionally fill-in if somebody's sick, though I don't have official credentials. Privately, I thought we should sort of formally institute the policy of Teacher's Pet… that is, that each teacher, regardless of gender, should have the right to take one kid of their choice as a little sextoy for stress relief, as long as the kid in question was cool with it... though that's probably not very PC of me to say. My tolerance didn't extend to mass brainwashing of the female student population, mind you, but I still understood the impulse, and maybe even admired the ingenuity while not approving. So when the "it had to be someone in the school system" theory was brought up, it made perfect sense to me, and I joined in the witch hunt, trying to come up with the most likely candidates.
Many of our teachers were young, which seemed to eliminate them… at least, it was far more comforting to believe that this had to be going on for many years than that it could be done quickly, so we reasoned it had to be someone who'd been there a while, put the suggestion in the kids year after year, gradually getting almost everyone. The women teachers were ruled out almost out of hand (which I didn't think was entirely fair, given the recent example of Judy Carr, and, as we soon came to learn, the girls affected by the magic words just as happily lick pussy as suck a cock). Some people latched on right then to Richie, the high school English teacher who was proctoring the Spelling Bee and said the magic word in public the first time... insisting that he was showing off his work, and as I said, he was expected to be leaving town. A lot of people believed it, at least briefly, but not me... the man was just too genuinely panicked, and though he had a long career in teaching, he was only working at our school for a few years, hardly time to brainwash more than a few classes. Still, just because he was the first to use it in public, and despite the fact that there's no proof, there are a few who insist to this day it must have been him.
The most likely candidate after him seemed to be then-Principal Wilson, a man in his late sixties who had been teaching in town for forty years, potentially had private access to girls up and down the last four decades. He was even in handcuffs before John Kim pointed out that he and his wife had only lived in town two years, didn't have kids, and as far as he could tell neither of them ever met the Principal, and yet his wife Helen went to her knees too. Others who didn't encounter Principal Wilson were similarly affected (which we got to see, not just on Mrs. Kim, but on everyone in earshot when Mr. Kim said the word loudly to demonstrate and half the room took to their knees). Then someone asked why John Kim and his wife were going to a kid's spelling bee when they didn't have kids, as though that was suspicious in itself (we don't think that way anymore), so you can see how paranoia went.
Maybe it would have continued, the Kims being properly scapegoated just as outsiders, if Jackson Tyson didn't intervene again… not specifically on behalf of the young couple, but just to air his own conspiracy theories. "We need to not think in terms of an individual," he said. "This is too big for that. This clearly goes right to the top. Someone in power. In government." He scowled at our mayor, and said, "Oh, not you, everyone knows you're just a figurehead. But obviously this is the federal government. The deep state, I mean." A few groans went up around the room, because Jackson blamed the 'deep state' for everything from weather disasters to declining Church attendance. When the party he hated was in power, it was their fault, when he couldn't blame them, he invented secret cabals working behind the scenes and trying to disrupt the work of a good man. If his granddaughter—who he would have at the time insisted was his grandson—heard, she would have been rolling her eyes, but she was at home and Jackson hadn't seen she was affected too, yet, which, just then, would probably have riled him up even more. His other grandchild, who was in the Spelling Bee, was with the other kids, and was unaffected. I don't know if he was old enough to realize his grandpa was a bit of a kook and bigot, not to mention something of a town joke, but in that brief window, to a lot of the town he seemed to be getting credibility. At least until he went too far in one of his usual directions. "Oh, sure, it's easy to dismiss it, but the evidence is overwhelming. Don't think I missed that some of you fellas were affected. This is obviously another step in their plot of gaying up our country." It really was a good thing his grandchildren weren't hearing this. I promise, he's better now, but it took a while for him to come around to cumming in asses.
Someone, I can't remember who, tried to logic him by pointing out that it was mostly women. Didn't make a difference, Jackson's mind was set."Yeah, but obviously women are more susceptible to the brainwashing." Obviously, he said, like women were naturally weak-minded, something he probably believed. Maybe still believes, to some extent, although he's mellowed some since the other magic words were discovered. At the meeting, I thought he sounded like a man on the verge of panic but still doing his best to sound tough. "It doesn't mean they're the targets, just the collateral damage. Once they can do it to ordinary men, we're helpless."
"Yeah, sure, Jackson," Roberta Patrick, our librarian, said, a mocking tone in her voice that, historically, could go either way, either deflate Jackson or build up a head of steam that would make him even more insufferable. "Someone makes sure to turn EVERY woman in town into... on-demand sex toys, and you think it's all about getting your scrawny old ass into buttsex."
"Deny it if you want, Bobbi, the elites've been trying to brainwash us all into slaves for years, men and women, and clearly our town's a testing ground."
As you might be able to tell, I've had a lot of dealings with Jackson over the years, and by this time I was pretty sick of him. We went to the same church, unfortunately, even though he thinks it's too liberal. Even back then it was pretty good about LGBT acceptance, something that was a must for me, but that doesn't mean every member of the congregation was, Jackson being the most outspoken against. So I've had to listen to his rants many times, Father Quinn even had to physically separate us more than once, but, by now, I could almost see the way his mind worked... and my big concern then was that he'd try to turn it on Bobbi directly, she's part of the church's liberal wing that he insisted was a lesbian, because of her haircut (which wasn't even true, like a lot of people she's bi but leans towards hetero), and even if he didn't believe it, it would serve his agenda to accuse the library of being behind the nefarious plot, even though some people triggered had never set foot in the library. I know Jackson barely had. So that's why I chose to speak up. "One thing's clear. This isn't ordinary hypnosis. I don't know anyone who'd be capable of this." Maybe the government could be involved, I considered at the time, but I doubted it would be the people he envisioned, because turning women into nothing but sexual receptacles and homemakers seemed to be more the other side's agenda, and with this particular magic word that job was half done. "The question we need to be focusing on is, who benefits?"
"Men!" someone shouted, annoyed but at the same time sounding a little amused, despite being a woman's voice. "Any man."
"Yeah, but Jackson's right about one thing," I said, feeling the bile in my throat rise a little at just having to say those words. "This has gotta be bigger than just one pervert. I mean, one person maybe did the deed." Seemed like a lot of work, though. "But one guy's gotta be happy with a handful of people going to their knees like that on command. Almost every woman in town? That's a bit overkill. Who benefits from that?"
I probably shouldn't have said it. I started by trying to divert him from thinking of Roberta, because I loved the library and we were friends and she was already talking about leaving town for a bigger city so she wouldn't have to deal with small-town bullshit like Jackson's frequent book challenges. But by that point, I was basically just thinking out loud, trying to come to terms with this my own way. I didn't have an answer. "Well, I'll tell you one person who benefits, if word got out..." said Richard Presley. "The Appleseth Bed and Breakfast. Maybe Heather's already been benefiting."
Heather Appleseth was Richard's neighbor, and there was bad blood that went back many years and I don't even know the source. Richard seemed to take every opportunity to find something to blame her for, but the rest of the town loved Heather, in part because… yeah, tourism's been big in our town for years, and Heather's Bed and Breakfast was seemingly always booked from spring on, and not just by the typical couples there for a weekend to lock themselves in a fancy room and play sex games, but people who go out and spend money in our stores. They weren't our only source of tourism dollars, to be fair, we got a lot of traffic on day trips, especially in the summer and fall, but Heather was steadiest, responsible for a hefty proportion of reliable income. That helped everybody. Even Jackson liked Heather, because she dressed and comported herself like the picture of a tradwife. She may be a single parent but came by it honestly as a widow, running a hospitality business. Now though, with the magic words, the prospect of a steady stream of tourists at Heather's, normally a boon, suddenly looked a little more sinister. Because… maybe everyone here in town were the last to know, and all or most of our visitors had always known they could reduce the women of our town to their knees with a simple, secret magic word. Maybe our frequent return visitors weren't that because our politeness and hospitality won them over, but kept coming back to exploit people who would have no memory of their exploitation, like a town of pop-up on-demand glory holes. At least, I got the idea the moment Presley mentioned it, though others were a bit slower and someone had to ask what he meant.
"Oh come on," Richard said. "You don't think people come every year to see her big dumb oak tree, do you?" It's actually a cherry tree. Heather's big bragging point, what she claimed as the secret of her success as a tourism spot was the picturesque setting, with wonderful views which included a big cherry tree that is genuinely beautiful, especially when it flowers, although it's rare that it produces cherries, since we tend to get late frosts. Richard wasn't the only one who didn't see the appeal, though... we loved guests who spent money but most of us also, when they were out of earshot, lightly mocked the out-of-towners paying her steadily-increasing rates to book a room with no real attractions. Attractions that we could see, at least. "You seem to have a lot of customers who are single young men. And we do live right near a school."
Depending on your definition of 'near,' everyone in town lives right near a school. Within easy walking distance for an able-bodied adult, certainly, and close enough that some of us still let our kids walk to school all alone. Sometimes right past Heather's house. So yes, it was easy to bring to mind some pervert finding a little girl he liked, following her to a spot with no sightlines and springing the magic word on her. Even girls traveling in groups, a traditional defense against child abductors, was useless, since they'd all go into a trance while he used whichever ones he wanted. Even having boys around wouldn't necessarily make them safer, since a pervert could share and a secret like that is the kind of secret boys might keep.
Children weren't the only possible victims, either. A tourist who knew about the magic words could find any number of excuses to be alone with a woman of any age and turn her mouth into a willing fleshlight. Maybe many already had.
Pretty soon everyone was giving Heather the stink-eye, the implication clear, that her bed and breakfast might be a hunting ground, one she might have even deliberately set up, and her face turned red. "You bastard, I'd never..."
Richard raised a hand, to defend her or dismiss her, it wasn't clear. "I'm not saying you're responsible for the, err, magic word. Frankly, you're too dumb to be behind a scheme this sophisticated. Besides, I saw you and your daughters going to your knees like the others." I noticed a gleam in his eye, and wondered right then how long Richard would be feuding with Heather. I could easily imagine him deciding to stop by for 'friendly visits' on a regular basis, if he could get behind closed doors where the only one who would ever know if he used the magic word was himself. With two pretty daughters, pretty preteens no less, and no husband to watch out for someone saying the word which would render her unable to remember what happened, he had to realize she was an easy target, now. Of course Richard would never admit thinking of them in that way, back then. "I'm just saying you benefit. And maybe your customers all know about what happened to this town. They've always been shady sorts. So maybe whoever did this meant this for them, maybe they sell the secret of the magic words to any pervert for ten grand or something."
"Let's not overreact here," Father Quinn said then. "Yes, these… magic words are indeed a disturbing development, but you're all jumping to the most vulgar conclusions. Being on your knees isn't inherently sexual, and opening your mouth could just be a sign of awe." More like saying 'ahhhh.' "Maybe nobody did this to us, maybe the Holy Spirit is just manifesting." A lot of disagreement and doubt greeted that idea, especially for a man used to having credibility, but some were willing to listen and he went on, undaunted. "If any shock wakes people up, surely being made to sexually perform would count as a shock. In fact, it would be incredibly dangerous to try. Allow me to demonstrate. Please come here, Stacey."
He waved Stacey Merchant over, wife of Derek Merchant. Derek's first wife passed away a few years back, natural causes, and he married a much younger woman, who used to be his nanny, a real trophy wife you might say, but they did seem to care about each other. Tongues wagged when it happened, people saying that he only married her to have a motherly figure for the kids, that he was finding it hard coping with being a single parent, and a hourglass figure around the house was a bonus. Bet his older boys were frequently finding it hard, having a stepmom in the house, one just a few years older than they were, and take it from me, hot as fuck, and with a tendency to wear short shorts that let lower ass-cheeks show, and crop tops that showed a lot of cleavage. Still, she took well to the motherly role, and as far as anyone knew to that point, was a loyal wife. People who knew Derek better might have said he was already a capable father and only married her for the sex... which most people could get without the marriage but not Derek, who was a member in good standing of the Church and didn't believe in sex outside of wedlock. At least back then. Neither did Stacey, and she seemed to take as a sign of true love that he was willing to wait, because she planned to lose her virginity to her husband, at least allegedly. Probably in actuality, but you never know, sometimes girls like Stacey who come from super religious families did the same teenage experiments as everyone else and just kept their purity rings on so they could wed wearing white and have their fathers proudly give them away... but at that point I never saw any evidence it wasn't the case for her. In fact, as far as appearances go, the couple was against pre-marital or extra-marital sex far more strictly than Father Quinn himself was, since he preached understanding about slips, possibly just so he could avoid hypocrisy.
After all, I knew he'd been angling to add Stacey's underwear to his secret trophy case of cheating wives of the congregation. In private conversations with me, he insisted he was getting close, that, like many wives who saved themselves, marital relations--with one partner who didn't take time to learn what turned her on--turned out to be unfulfilling. I could understand that, and knew the effectiveness of his methods, but I hadn't personally seen any sign of Stacey straying yet, at least not until he selected her for his little experiment and she stepped right up, without asking her spouse if he minded.
Father Quinn leaned in to whisper in her ear like a lover might, although that wasn't suspicious, since it was clearly just a matter of kindness, using the magic word on her but leaving other women watching with their wits intact.
To this point, the experiments we'd run proved the effect works on anyone who could hear the magic word, that they didn't remember what happened just before or after the magic word was used, or even what snapped them out of it if it didn't last long enough for them to get to their feet. We also discovered that merely reading the word didn't do anything, nor would recordings, and that saying the word wouldn't make it trigger it on yourself, even if you'd otherwise be affected. We hadn't really tested how easily it could be to use triggered girls as sex toys... that was just on everyone's mind, taken for granted, an obvious consequence. And when I say we hadn't tested, I mean those at the meeting. I'm sure plenty of those who'd left before the meeting started were doing their own experiments, in private.
Upon hearing the magic word, Stacey Merchant, naturally, dropped to her knees, opened her mouth and extended her tongue slightly, just like everybody else affected by it. Perhaps those present who saw Father Quinn as a devout and righteous man could see things as he claimed he did, a prayer position. After all, her cleavage was on display but nothing was actually exposed. Those who knew him better, which included a lot of wives who'd been in that particular position in front of him willingly, were likely wondering if the Father would go all out and finally try to fuck a parishioner's mouth in public, openly, something it seemed like he'd been edging towards for years.
He wasn't that daring, of course, but he did place his hand at her mouth, like he was offering her a communion wafer or something, only without the wafer. All he had to offer was a thumb, which went in without resistance, slid inside her mouth, not startling her, not waking her from her trance. Derek watched, face red, lips tight like he wanted to say something but couldn't find anything actually wrong with this as an experiment. "See?" Father Quinn said, seemingly relishing the moment. "It's more like a state of rapture than a sex act. It's not like she's making an effort to suck..."
That was another magic word, though a contingent one. It was that moment we first learned that if someone afflicted by that first magic word heard the word 'suck', they would suck. If they didn't, they would still accept whatever went into their mouth without reaction, which could still lead to a thorough mouth-fucking, but a more passive one. The word 'suck' triggers them to wrap their lips around whatever is inside. If they hear 'lick', they will lick around whatever is in or around their mouth, but Quinn didn't say 'lick' that time. There was no emotion in either act, just mechanical motion, but a huge crowd watched as Stacey's lips wrapped around his thumb and began to move. Not much, mind you, her head didn't bob dramatically, and wouldn't unless he grabbed her head and moved it, but the lips visibly worked around that thumb like a whore asked exactly what she did for a living at her kid's show-and-tell and demonstrating a PG-version of a blowjob for the class.
It clearly demolished Father Quinn's point, but did not diminish his enjoyment, except for a faint look of chagrin that was probably feigned. "Well, regardless," Father Quinn said, with Mrs. Merchant still on her knees in front of him, sucking his thumb while her husband watched. "If something were to startle her out of her trance, I'd be in danger of getting my thumb bit off."
Except, that clearly wasn't going to be the case. Another revelation, one we'd see the full boundaries of later, but we got our first inkling of it right then. We'd already seen that a girl brought to her knees by the word could be woken easily by a snap of the fingers, a bell, a clapped hands, a slap, a vigorous shaking, or whatever else… a reassuring thought, but now we saw for the first time that it only applied if her mouth was empty. If her mouth was being stimulated, if Stacey's example was anything to go by, a victim would completely ignore any other stimulation. It also turned out that's true even if she isn't in 'suck' or 'lick' mode, though learning that would require subsequent experiments at other times. The crowd watched as Stacey continued to suck Quinn's thumb, positioned at the front of his pants, like it might as well have been his cock. Some who were far away might have even thought it was his cock, especially if they came in late, but it didn't matter what she was sucking, what mattered was that she was committed to sucking it and nothing could seemingly dissuade her, not her name being shouted, not Derek begging her to please stop sucking like a slut. Everyone thought of the implications, then, that this might not be just Stacey's reaction, but that everyone who knelt at the magic word might act the same way.
Although some of the women who had been Father Quinn's private conquests allowed themselves the hope that maybe Stacey was showing off, ready to take that final step into cheating in the dance they'd watched them do for weeks, a dance many such observers knew the steps of well but couldn't publicly admit. I knew who many of them were, and I could see that barely concealed eager look in some eyes eyes at this development. Quinn's conquests sometimes became jealous of his attention on someone new, but more often they seemed to like watching them fall, because misery may love company in a chaste way, but shame will get down and dirty for it, giving its sufferers a little thrill every time they see evidence that it wasn't them being weak or sinful, that others fell to temptation too. Some of his conquests even go on to assist future ones, concealing their own indiscretions but happily providing excuses for alone time or encouraging the new meat in every moral compromise on the road to an actual moment of cheating... sometimes bisexual cheating with the priest and another married parishioner. The more morally upright his new target, the more the fallen women enjoy seeing them get tilted, and Stacey was not just too young and pretty but too self-righteous and sanctimonious to not want to root against her in her fight against sin. Hell, I know there were also at least a half-dozen women making an effort to get Stacey to cheat in her wedding dress at the ceremony, just so they could feel superior, but she didn't bite. She didn't look like she was biting at the meeting, either, just sucking. Those women ashamed of their sins and longing for company (and a few just damn kinky and shameless about it—there is some overlap and movement from one group to the other) still loved watching this little scene, Prissy Stacey on her knees, demonstrating what she could do to Father Quinn's cock if whatever seduction he was slowly working towards continued, some telling themselves that it wasn't the magic words at all, that those were just an excuse, that despite her good girl image, she was giving him the green light by demonstrating how she was a shameless slut at heart.
They wanted to believe this because he had made them think about themselves, although not in public, or at least not openly. Quinn has bragged to trusted friends that he's talked married women into blowing him, just out of sight, with husbands and sometimes children in the audience, while he was giving a sermon, typically with her family thinking she was off preparing for a debut with the choir, and I believe it. Singing lessons for that purpose was one of his favorite schemes to get alone time with some of the harder-to-seduce wives, especially when they had some of their so-called friends praising his vocal training techniques and encouraging a new target to take her shot at spotlighting with the choir. I'd call it a ruse, because not everyone he invited to try out in this way was really cut out to sing, but even some of the lesser voices—with prettier faces--did in fact go on to perform guest spots after, I imagine, they performed privately for Quinn. Enthusiasm was more important than talent, he'd tell everyone, and in a few of those cases recent throat lubrication might have genuinely helped, or helped the pre-show jitters, but their talent in getting that help, hidden from view by a lectern, made the sermon before the choir sound enthusiastic enough for me not to doubt what might be dismissed as a brag if it came from other men. Father Quinn was a man who enjoyed an audience, especially if they could be kept ignorant or compromised.
I have to think the Father was enjoying this scene for similar reasons, even if it was just his thumb, and he might have been sorely tempted to switch it out for something else, even in a crowd, but he still had a reputation to protect, and after what was already too long a suck, finally pulled one wet digit out of Stacey's mouth, guiltily saying, "Okay, I admit, that doesn't look good for my theory. I really was expecting her to wake up and react on instinct to do what a good woman might do when unexpectedly finding a hard part of a man's body in her mouth."
Mouth no longer in service, she stayed in position like waiting for another thing to suck, but this time, Derek shaking his wife's shoulders finally did rouse her from her trance. Stacey calmly stood up, wiped her knees, wiped her mouth, and then looked around at all the eyes staring at her. "What? Why's everyone looking at me?"
"Because you were just on your knees sucking on Father Quinn's thumb like a cheap whore!" Derek said, which I thought was a little over the line. People couldn't help their reaction to the magic words.
"I was not!" Stacey insisted, sounding scandalized at the suggestion. "I swear, Derek, you have the most disturbing ideas. My friendship with Father Quinn is perfectly innocent, and the only time I've ever been on my knees near him was for spiritual guidance. It's frankly offensive you think I'd perform some kind of… of lewd act. I wouldn't EVER behave like that, with ANYONE. And besides I'm pretty sure I'm immune to this hypnotism effect anyway. What's everyone laughing at?"
I didn't realize anybody was recording, but of course, with phones being so common and all, of course somebody was, and showed her the video, which made Stacey turn bright red. "I don't do that! I can't even eat a banana without blushing! I don't even do that with my husband!" Which got a few more laughs and Derek turning red again.
"Don't worry, I'm sure you will soon..." someone said.
"We really need to find the bastard who did this! I am a respectable woman. I don't want to be at risk of being… used like some gas station bathroom glory hole by anyone, at a moment's notice. It's hard enough living with a husband and three stepsons without having to worry about whether I'm allowing them to sin with my mouth." She was flustered, clearly, but nobody else had brought up glory holes or her stepsons using her, so as innocent as she pretended those ideas must have been in there somewhere, and I don't think I was the only one who noticed it.
Father Quinn certainly did, though if anyone else there had any experimentation at the gas station glory hole that was just a ten minute drive from town, I imagine he heard about them in confession. Maybe he also heard why Stacey kept shopping at the thrift store right next to it… it could be bargain hunting wasn't the only addiction she had, and she just didn't like bringing her husband along for either of them. I can't say for sure. For all his sins, the man did actually keep confessions sacred, albeit sometimes acting on the information received which I don't think is allowed. Once in a while he might hint, in general terms, when there was a secret too juicy to keep entirely in his own head, but always was scrupulous to leave either the identity of the sin or the sinner completely opaque. We all have our lines. The chief reason I don't think Father Quinn was ever told, in confession, who was behind the magic words, is that I think he wouldn't have been able to hide it. Kept the name secret, sure, but not that he knew the secret.
That said, he did seem to be going to a lot of effort to downplay the effects of the magic word, even after showing them off. "We don't truly know that anyone's actually been used in such a matter, do we? This is all theoretical. We must have faith that God has kept us safe, and will continue to do so..."
With one possessive arm around his wife, Derek stared at the man who put his wife on her knees and said, "My faith is running pretty low right now, Father."
"There must be some way to know for sure," a woman suggested, and then somebody else said, "Yeah, if we know who he's targeted, we might be able to narrow down the perp." By his use of the word 'perp' I imagine it was one of the deputies, but I didn't see which one.
That was when poor, dumb, Dennis Harris spoke up. I mean, he's not a dumb man generally speaking, you have to have some intelligence to become a dentist, but in that situation, tensions high, where we just had three different people accused of being involved for the most spurious and circumstantial of reasons (five if you count the Kims, but that never really made it to a serious allegation), it was downright stupid to make a target of yourself, as he did. Albeit accidentally.
"I see most of the women in town in my practice," he said, which was the absolute worst way to start, reminding everyone that he had private alone-time with all the victims. "And it's not well known, but..." He gave a little sheepish grin. "Dentists can usually tell when someone's recently had, uh, oral relations, if we check. There's a sign. We typically keep it to ourselves, but if I schedule appointments with those, uh, affected, I might be able to see who's been taken advantage of."
Voices, mostly objections, erupted all over, both people not wanting to subject themselves to inspection, and those suspicious of his motives. One of those was loud enough to cut through most of the rest, "Take advantage of them yourself, you mean..."
"Yes, well, maybe the kids..." He wasn't responding to the comment I heard, though, but to someone closer to him, someone who was pointing out that a person having performed oral sex wouldn't actually prove anything, but, of course, a mob is liable to break out for the silliest of reasons.
"He admitted it!"
"No, I mean, um, maybe I could inspect the kids and, um, verify..."
"You heard him, he's into the kids!" "How do we know he'd be honest? He must have seen kids already with the sign..."
After that it became super hard to piece together the conversations. There were a lot of competing desires and motivations under the desires. There were, of course, plenty who wanted to know who had been used without their knowledge so they could offer support. There were people who would genuinely rather live with the uncertainty than find out for sure they or their kids were, essentially, rape victims. Certainly some segment of the population were afraid of their own immoral acts being revealed if such an inspection became widespread or mandatory, whether that meant cheating wives or girlfriends or parents abusing their children, realizing that a revelation of blowjob experience where none should exist would generate a lot of questions and ruin their marriage or put them in jail, particularly if almost nobody else showed the signs. Then there were, conversely, those who had also done these acts but were eager for an 'out' that let them bury any evidence thereof with an easy and difficult-to-disprove blame target of mysterious hypnotists. There were of course people who thought that on a fundamental level what they did with their own mouths was nobody's business and should not be subject to inspection, and that went for their children too. And there were those who were certain that Dennis must have had in his chair plenty of little kids that "everyone knew" had been molested and yet had never blown the whistle, and that itself was suspicious. I guess they had something of a point, because if girls as young as eight were affected by the words, someone must have tried them out and yet he never chose to report the supposed blowjob sign on any young kids. There were even people who were just offended that he said 'make an appointment' because they assumed that meant he was proposing to charge for what was sure to be an essential service.
Over all those voices, one rang out, "How do we know he didn't implant the magic words? Everyone in town goes to the dentist eventually!" Which, of course, is not true, some people have phobias or are ashamed or just too busy unless they identify a problem themselves, but those who do tend to think everyone else does—perhaps not as regularly as they should, but at some point--and those who avoid it at all costs tend to not advertise that fact. And, at least, it's true of most little girls, which a lot of people were most worried about. And since not everyone in town goes to the same Church, not everyone affected has been to school here, the presumed universal need for dental services seemed more universal than any other commonality anyone had found yet.
More voices started to add their own imagined pieces of evidence, once this theory finally made it out in the open, and, once again, we had a suspect. This time, one who had a stammer and a stutter and was unable to vigorously defend himself, which made him look more guilty as accusations piled up.
"And he's got all those fancy lights that could hypnotize..." This was plausible, I guess, but only because we had no idea how the process was done and a chair with bright lights on a weird mechanical arm seemed like they could be elements in such a brainwashing... but it's not like they strobed or anything. They were bright but they were just lights. "And numbing gas." Okay, granted, that might put someone into an altered state if used nefariously.
"And they usually go alone, even kids. Or they go with a mother, and he could put her into a trance first!" The assistant was also often there, not always, but enough to put a dent in a scheme like that, although of course I suppose he could have started on her. I didn't think so.
"I heard online that some dentists were experimenting with hypnotherapy to make people not worry about pain..." I'd also heard that, but if Dennis was experimenting with that, it would be a surprise, and with his notable stammering and awkwardness, it was hard to believe he could get ever somebody calm enough to go into a trance where such brainwashing could begin. Now his assistant, maybe she could, but the words worked on her.
"The magic words would be real helpful for a dentist…" That was actually a good point, and our current dentist makes good use of the magic words in the course of her job. But, again, I didn't think Dennis was capable. If he implanted the words they probably would have required starting with an "Ummm" to take effect.
"Is that what happened, Dennis? It started out innocently, then you realized what you could do?" One of the deputies was now encroaching on his personal space, something liable to make him nervous and his stammer to increase even if he wasn't aware there was a mob forming around him.
"I, I, I, I, um, never. I can't even..." Poor guy and his nerves couldn't even make a clear denial of the charges.
Derek threw the first punch, accusing Dennis of making his wife into an eager cocksucker. You'd think he'd be a little happier about that part of things, if she wasn't doing it before.
After that, he fell to the ground, and someone who apparently had a daughter with a recent dental appointment started kicking him, accusing Dennis of taking advantage of his little girl, and a bunch of people began shouting at him to admit he did it, and then I did the only thing I could think of… I yelled the magic word at the top of my lungs, so about half the crowd went to their knees, which, not going to brag, turned out to be a genius way to break up an imminent riot's energy without it immediately turning into an orgy (of course, these days turning a riot into an orgy might be an even better approach, and one of the other magic words'll do that).
In the wake of the magic word, most people stopped focusing on Dennis and started focusing on waking up their spouses, friends, relatives. Of course, the nearest to Dennis were still pretty centered and angry at him, but if it wasn't for my spontaneous thought to use the magic word I'd only just learned, I think he might just have been beaten to death. Everyone there was looking for an outlet to the anxiety the existence of the words had provoked, and he was there. As it is, he got pretty knocked around before the Sheriff intervened and the deputies who weren't already roughing him up (or in one case, on her knees) hauled him to his feet and handcuffed him. "Just taking him for questioning," they said, and I'm sure a lot of people thought it was more like protective custody, although Dennis wouldn't think so since when next I saw him there were a lot more bruises on him than when he left. Search warrants didn't detect a smoking gun, but we all heard they found child pornography on his computer at home.
Which wasn't true, by the way. You know how rumors get. Or at least, it wasn't true that it was child pornography… you know, pornography pornography. There was nothing actually illegal there. A few erotic stories that involved teenagers, and (among a lot of normal, fully legal porn, which at worst had some barely legal teens playing up their youth) some saved videos that had girls who were around fourteen dancing to provocative music in skimpy outfits that titillated but nevertheless covered everything, showing no more than you could see at the beach. Hebephile, not pedophile, he might say, if he could manage to say anything and if that wasn't considered 'bad enough.' He got arrested off it all, but it was thrown out within days, which almost got the judge lynched as a co-conspirator, but by then tempers were milder.
Dennis didn't stay in town much longer than that. A dentist missing a few teeth himself, well, that's not good for business, and though he knew well the work that could be done to repair his smile, I don't think it would ever be the same after seeing how people he thought liked and respected him turned on him so easily. That's not to say he never came back... after all, he knew about one of the magic words and taking advantage of them seemed only fair, even if he did it on the young daughters of the people who beat him. If, by that point, we weren't already inclined to look the other way for non-disruptive uses of the magic words, I like to think we would have done so anyway, by way of apology. He wasn't involved in what happened to our town in any way. Maybe he kept silent about some of the signs of oral sex he saw on kids, but that was the extent of his sin.
Of course, a lot of the town didn't think so at the time, they thought they caught the perp, but that still didn't mean the end of our troubles, when now everyone knew the magic word to get a woman to drop to her knees and present her mouth for use. That had consequences, until a cure could be found, we needed to find a way to manage the situation.
An outright ban on going to the media with the story was an easy first decision. Not everyone agreed, of course, but those who thought that might be a good idea were persuaded. Just imagine, we'd become a sideshow and perverts would descend upon us, even more than they possibly already were. Secretly being a sex tourism destination, if that was what was happening, was frightening and disturbing, but not as bad as the shame getting out. Secrets could be managed, even shameful secrets. Small towns are great at that. So we all agreed, and agreed to spread the news to everyone who wasn't there. There's a town grapevine that worked better than any Internet, and we used it to send a message... anyone found to have revealed the story to the media would be punished by the whole town, ostracized at the very least, with vague threats of that not being the only punishment. Vague threats can be very effective, if given in the right tone of voice or by the right people.
By no means do I think everyone complied, of course, there are too many ways to leak a story like this and pretend you were keeping to the vow of silence, but from what I've come to understand the government has processes in place to keep towns like us from becoming well-known. Still, I think the town consensus did help keep us under the government's radar for a long time, and, if everybody went blabbing about the town problem everyone now knew about, I bet even the government couldn't have stopped the story from getting out.
That settled, the problem became how to cure the condition, or failing that, mitigate it as much as possible. Our mayor promised he'd get specialists in hypnotism who would undo the effect, assuming it would be far easier than it turned out to be, but even he warned us that finding the right people would take time, and that meant drastic disruptions to our town while we waited.
Think about it. Nobody wanted to send their kids to school when a magic word could send them to their knees, ready to serve a pervert. Women in the workplace, especially if they worked alone and had to deal with customers, were at similar risk. Yet… keeping pretty much the entire female population at home seemed like something out of the 18th century or a repressive country. It was still seriously considered, at least as a temporary measure, although--it was frequently pointed out--they would be subject to the same risks at home. Yes, obviously from men foremost. Perverted men are a risk every woman learns to be wary of, even the guys who seem the most innocent and swear they would never take advantage... when they know they could and get away with it, some will do it. Even if they're family. But the same is true of women. Maybe less so, maybe it's the same proportion and women have just had less opportunities. I don't know, but at the very least I guarantee enough women will take advantage that a smart woman needed to keep her guard up even when no men were around. Even if it's just teenage girls they're around. Maybe even younger girls. Underage girls can get super horny... people don't always like to bring it up, but they do. Segregate all the girls and surely one of them is gonna think about getting her pussy eaten and using the magic word to make it happen while the others take the pose entranced until something startles them out of it. Lock two sisters in the same house all day, each knowing they could use the magic word and get away with it, how many would?
Schools, we eventually came around to thinking, would be safer. Or at least, we hoped that larger crowds would make people leery of exploiting the magic words. Still, some proposed rules that weren't really workable… for instance, separating boys and girls for all classes, or no male teachers at all (think about those two together for a moment, a female teacher and a bunch of boys who knew how to put her into a trance… yes, some small percentage of women were immune, but none of them had teaching credentials, and back then we were a lot stricter about that). Not to mention, what do you do with the trans students? Should trans girls be locked up with their gender or with guys who've been kept away from all other female contact, and with the power to exploit what they've come to believe is an exclusively girl's flaw, even if that girl has a cock? Inevitably some would decide to make their pretty girl classmate drop to her knees and do what some of the more sexist of them view as a girl's job. Or maybe you isolate the trans girls all by themselves, which seems crueler than turning them into a sex toy for boys with hormone-raging hardons and no other outlet beyond masturbation or homosexuality. There were similar problems with trans boys, with slightly different complications. In the end, we could find no good answer. It was worse than the whole bathroom debate (which we resolved, might as well let anyone use any bathroom they want and focus on making the bathrooms themselves safe).
Many of those hypothetical situations happened, by the way, as we tried various solutions while we waited to find that promised hypnotist who could cure everything. People have confessed to using the magic word in those first days back at school, even when they were never caught, which might be surprising, but at some point it became sort of cool to brag about what you got away with. Of course, not all bragging is true, either. In truth, we can never know the real extent of the word's use in those early days. Even when we thought we had pretty good defenses, people always found a way to get around them. For example, we eventually turned to video surveillance to keep classrooms safe (after briefly trying some segregated-sex days, we went with mixed by this point)… but we didn't put CCTV in the change rooms for a while, for fear the footage would get out, and for fear it was crossing a line of propriety. Eventually we realized, despite the privacy implications, we probably should. So, it's funny, before we started to make that routine moral compromise, we might well have had a roomful of girls who each used the magic word on each other in the safety of the change room to get off and thought they were the only one because once another girl used the word, they were entranced in turn, forgetting everything but their own slip to temptation. It might have happened several times. Who can know? I'll say this much, there were some gym classes where reportedly none of the girls can remember much about, that it seemed like they just started and class was suddenly over. People are divided about whether the teacher instigated it or whichever girls were involved put her on her knees and to use too.
Of course, we still slowly put together a set of plans and protocols designed to keep the schools from descending into that kind of debauchery on a daily basis. Classroom monitors, at first in the biological sense… that is, women well-known-to-be prudish and either immune or with earphones that prevented them from hearing any actual word spoken in class, and an airhorn that they could sound if they saw anyone dropping to their knees. As soon as it was practical, video in every classroom, monitored from a remote location, with alarms triggered the same way. One of our local amateur techies promised he could make a smartphone app that would sound an alarm if the magic words were spoken, but it kept getting pushed back (and once we did get it, it took an even longer time before it wasn't buggy as shit).
Always, though, there were gaps. Not every parent wanted their kid to have a phone, not every incident happened in a classroom, and not every prudish observer was actually as prudish as they seemed, and some turned out to be easy to trick into taking off the headphones and becoming susceptible. Also, setting these systems up took time, time when most parents decided it would be better to take the risk rather than hamper the kids education. Nobody wanted to go through the whole distance-learning thing again. Kids need to be out and about and social even if that means the risk of them finding a way to beat the systems to get off. That has always happened, the magic word just added a lot of new wrinkles.
So yeah, in those early days and weeks, we did have a good number of hallway or bathroom incidents, teachers who took advantage, teachers who allowed themselves to be taken advantage of, clever kids who managed to disable the alarm part of the system so the off-site monitor had to watch a bunch of teens use the magic words or leave their post and get somebody to intervene while they ran a three hole train on the teacher. Kids who were caught back then got detention of course… and a lot happened in detention as well. When detention's supervised by a woman, getting one of those might just become a scheduled date for bad boys to abuse a hot teacher, whether that's by taking the headphones off or distracting the male co-supervisor, or agreeing to let him join in, or sometimes old-fashioned sweet-talking. The last happened to our one deaf high school teacher, and frequent early chaperone, Miss Blum. Using her for detentions was originally seen as a brilliant solution, until we found out that she was routinely finding a blind spot in the cameras and voluntarily indulging in sexual contact with teen boys who wanted her. She could read lips, but read hard-ons better, and buff bad-boy teen boys were enough her type that she sometimes let the hard-ons take a crack at her lips in the places nobody could see. It was only once she stopped being such a good solution that we discovered this, though.
See, Miss Blum could watch somebody saying the words with no effect, and she could read the words written down with ease, but, we discovered far too late, using sign-language to spell out one of magic words in her presence put her at the mercy of them as well. Pretty sure her father found that out before any of the students did, long before Miss Blum and the rest of us did. The big public discovery happened in regular class, thanks to a nerdy student who wanted to impress Miss Blum by learning sign, which she encouraged, in that chaste mentorly way she encouraged all the students who weren't her type. Then one day he had cause to explain a peer's absence was because he was caught using the magic word. Kevin, the nerd, thought it would be appropriate and harmless to use the actual word in sign, or rather spell it, since it was an archaic word he didn't know the specific sign for (we've now invented convenient shorthands for each of the magic words that don't trigger the deaf). Miss Blum couldn't hear the alarm that was supposed to wake her up when the monitor saw her dropping to her knees, and Kevin was both a good kid and a scrawny beanpole, as I said, not Miss Blum's usual type at all, but at that point it didn't matter. Good kids will do a lot when cheered on by the whole class, especially since using one of the magic words was an automatic detention whether you did anything or not… so until one of the prudes arrived to pull him away and wake her up, Kevin earned his detention and another shot with her that day after school.
There was some miscommunication going on there, I guess nobody realized they were putting him in detention with the very woman he'd used the words on and Miss Blum didn't remember the event and didn't realize that Kevin was removed from class for abusing her own body and thus still thought herself inviolable… but of course the story broke about her vulnerability soon after that. Miss Blum put a few pieces together, since her father always talked to her in sign and her mother relied on her lip reading abilities, and soon realized that her father's improved mood wasn't actually a sign her parents troubled marriage was also improving. Though, she did let her dad move in with her after the divorce. If you take one lesson from this, I think, it's that if you care about someone, make the effort to communicate in their language, don't just expect them to use yours all the time. Kevin also kept up the signing, and the formerly good kid was a more frequent guest in detentions and wound up being the one who impregnated her in a blind spot.
Now many people think that detention was a rather lax penalty for kids exploiting the magic word, that surely suspension or jail time was more appropriate. We did eventually have to crack down more, but… it's hard to express to you just how widespread this was. We were all still doing our best to cope with an impossible situation, failing to keep it under control and more concerned with keeping it contained, under wraps. Expel a kid, the state gets involved and nobody wanted that... we'd have had to suspend at least twenty percent of the student body for some incidents, which, as I understand it, would jeopardize our school's funding in some way. So we just kinda… let it go on, doing our best... like trying to fight a fire with a garden hose. Focused on the most dangerous abuses and hope the rest burn themselves out. With adults we took a harder line, but even there, there were too many cases to punish all the offenders, so we had to triage. We eventually had to develop sort of an all-around chill attitude towards incest, and adult/child sexual activity, as long as it wasn't too harmful or exploitative, but the teens led the way.
Teens also made our towns problems that much worse, or exposed a worse problem we already had, depending on your definitions. And speaking of definitions, they were what propelled us into a new phase, while we were trying--and failing--to unhypnotize people so they wouldn't respond to that first magic word, teens expanding their vocabulary helped us discover a few others.
Dictionary Parties, the kids called them. The first ones were in Church, masquerading as Bible study, for a time the only allowed social activity available to kids outside of school itself. There had to be at least one… parents could go mad with their kids stuck either at school with no extra-curricular time, or at home, especially when neither really protected them from the magic word. Even good parents who would never abuse were often helpless at more experimentation going on, when they had more than one kid in a dangerous age. Some girls just assumed their brothers were using the magic word on them and instead of being horrified they just came to accept it, maybe even became so curious about it that they offered to suck a brotherly cock while untranced, just to learn what it was like. Some found they liked it, or tolerated it enough if their brothers were to return the favor and use their tongue down there. Much the same with fathers, uncles, and, yeah, sisters or mothers and aunts and godparents for that matter, with slightly different dynamics between them. It was surprisingly common. I can think of almost a dozen girls who've admitted to me that they assumed the position at home and waited to see if their family members would assume something else triggered it and took advantage. Only three where it actually worked, at least until dick passed lips and an inexperienced cocksucker couldn't maintain the illusion of passivity, but in most cases it opened up a conversation, sometimes an arrangement to experiment. Not everyone went this far, mind you, but enough that people grew relaxed and a bit more understanding when they saw others slip up and exploit the magic words. Those who took a little longer to fall down the slippery slope, turned to Church supervision.
I don't know if you've ever been under extended Church supervision before as a kid, but if you have and your experience is anything like mine, it's incredibly strict… until it's not, and those moments come and go sporadically, and often things get alarmingly wild while it's not, kids racing to fuck ass while a nun was out of the room and get done and look entirely innocent before she gets back. Ass-fucking because we still told ourselves we were good kids obeying God's word as best we can, and actually losing our virginities seemed wrong, but we were happy to push the envelope as far as we could. A lot of religious kids are like that, look up the Mormons and 'soaking' if you don't believe me. We never did that particular workaround, but we did try for world record times for ass-fucking or blow jobs, or dildo dares (where people were dared to keep a dildo in them through some event), and sometimes there was excited rubbing of genitals through clothes with chaperones right there in the room, because they're in the middle of a conversation and assume nobody would dare. Also certainly a few cases where the blind eyes were feigned to let horny kids sin and enjoy catching them in the act, or not catch then and let the chaperones indulge in the comparatively minor sin of voyeurism. But my point is way back then, there were opportunities for sexual experimentation even in a strict church, and after the magic words there were even more because… aside from pedophiles (some of whom are in that institution, of course, but even some of them need a break), nobody wants to watch kids non-stop. So there are gaps, and into these gaps, among the usual play, the first Dictionary parties got started. They later spread to non-Church gatherings where allowed, sometimes even at home among family. They didn't all involve an actual, physical dictionary, either… most of the most available of those aren't fit for the purpose, because they only use the words that are in most common use, while the magic word was one of those rarer words you find in the special unabridged dictionary spelling bees used, or from searching online, though in a pinch, any rare word list would do for these get togethers, because it was all about the potential of discovery.
The concept of the Dictionary Parties was pretty obvious though... if there existed one obscure English word that triggered an involuntary post-hypnotic suggestion, why not others? So, convinced by this reasoning, kids would get together, and at least at the Church ones, pretend to be reading Bibles together, a wholesome mixed-gender activity when under supervision... but they were actually reading spelling bee dictionaries, looking for obscure words and reading them out loud, hoping to get a reaction. I bet they started as actual Bible readings, since the Bible does use a lot of more obscure words like 'beget' and at least a few smart kids probably hoped they could stumble upon a word of power there, but before long they decided it wasn't exciting enough... they weren't finding anything and it was starting to feel less like a little safe rebellion than doing exactly what their parents wanted, so they switched to dictionaries instead, just reading words together, and the practice spread.
I can't rightly say which magic word was discovered next. That was the thing about dictionary parties, when they were private, sometimes the results stayed private, for a while. The discoverer of a new magic word had power, because people can only take precautions against what they know. For example, if a magic word could be given that didn't make the victim drop to their knees and extend a tongue, then it could be deployed in school and monitors watching the security feeds would probably miss it, and not sound an alarm. You might be able to use it to trance out a teacher, direct her to one of the blind spots, and have some fun with that. A magic-word-detector app on a phone couldn't be trained on this new word, so long as you kept it secret (I think we had a prototype version around this time, but it didn't catch the word half the time, went off for nothing at others, and on top of all that, it was easy to disable if you had access to the phone). So it's possible that a couple of the words were discovered independently several times by teen dictionary parties, and kept secret in the way only the best secrets can be. In some cases, that a new word had been discovered might not even be obvious to everyone in the group… or anyone in it, if the right circumstances weren't in place. Like, there are some that all-girl dictionary parties might miss, and similarly for all-boys ones. Usually, dictionary parties at the church were mixed gender, but ones in other places tended to be mostly boys with one or two daring girls willing to let themselves be test subjects. Sometimes, when there was privacy, a few let themselves be used more directly, as part of an elaborate prank to convince a group of boys that they'd found another magic word, that, say, made a girl flash her boobs… the girl gets a little thrill, only to laugh at the boys when they exposed themselves by going to try it on their sisters or mothers, some of whom were let in on the joke, at least after the fact.
I think the second magic word I heard about was the only one that most girls don't need to worry about, at least not directly. Another thing that turned out to be unusual among the magic words was that the definition wasn't really at all related to the effect. Even the first one, you could see a clear connection, but for this one… well, maybe if you stretch. The word is an old one that means bald, so maybe whoever thought it up was meant to reference the bald-headed warrior in some people's pants, or maybe it was considered a good tool for someone looking to get balled, b-a-l-l-e-d.
Like the first, those affected by this new word do not remember the word being spoken, and again, a few seem to be immune, but, in simplest terms, anyone with a cock, it gives them an erection. Not instantly, always, but within a minute or two of hearing it, almost certainly it would become hard and refuse to go down. Small wonder we started calling the word 'the boner stiffener.' Dick-stiffener sounds more natural, I think, but remember, people occasionally had to talk about these words around kids, so we settled on a more family-friendly name.
Honestly, I bet this magic word was found several times before somebody realized it wasn't just teenage boys being teenage boys, aroused at everything, but rather another post-hypnotic suggestion. But the word doesn't just stop at giving them an erection, either. That would have been bad enough. It also gives those affected a deep aversion to stimulating themselves. I don't know if 'aversion' is even the right word, maybe 'agnosia' is better, because it was more like they forget that was even an option. If the action is suggested, they seem to find it incomprehensible. That only leaves victims with two choices… to just suffer with a stiffy for the hour or so the effect lasts, or, if they are inclined and have the opportunity, find some other way to deal with it. Guess what, though? People with raging hard-ons they can't account for or take care of themselves are more likely to risk using the other magic words they know.
I know, you'd think it would be obvious. But apparently not to a lot of young girls who spread this magic word as a grand setting of the scales, to really show the boys—particularly the ones who joked about turning their mouths into cocksleeves--what it feels like to lose control of your body. Though, certainly they wouldn't be the first young girls who got a little drunk on the power of being a cocktease, and in every generation some suffer some unjust consequence of it. This particular magic word just made it more direct, rather than dressing in too short shorts or pretending not to notice that boys can spy a nipple down their shirt when they bend over, they can just create an erection on demand. Some say it made things too easy and maybe that's part of why people started to think that a boy forced to endure an erection and sending a teen cocktease to her knees was tit for tat, even if she wasn't a teen and had no tits. After all, an alarm can wake a girl before she gets used, but a cock, once triggered, is going to be hard for a while, and so, the theory went, the girl who causes that might owe some relief. Especially if they've also been teasing in other, more traditional ways (which seemed to be happening more and more, but there was more going on). Before long, using the boner stiffener, in high school, was just like the original magic word, an automatic detention if caught, only the detention left a girl with plenty of boys known to abuse other magic words and sometimes a sympathetic teacher who'd let them use blind spots to teach her a lesson in tit for tat. Outside of school, outside of supervision, a lot of guys figured a girl was asking for it, particularly if there was one girl and suddenly several guys around her with erections, even if the girl was a little sister of one of them. Sometimes the girl didn't actually say anything and it was one of her male companions that wanted to get something started. Sometimes the girl did say it and she didn't just think through the consequences.
Sometimes the consequence was probably exactly what the girl wanted, though girls in search of a gang rape experience were rare at first. Usually people were subtler, like shy girls saying it quietly with their secret crush, in the hopes it would lead him to make a move. Since those hearing it didn't remember anyone saying it, it was easy to confuse their cock's sudden activity with being really turned on. It wasn't the same, not quite, anyway... we eventually learned there was a distinct difference in character between guys whose cock is made hard by a magic word and guys who are super horny. I mean, yeah some horniness comes along with the erection, growing the more it lasts, but it doesn't start there and it isn't emotional horniness, if that makes sense, more like a slowly growing itch that victims really want to scratch and normally one way to help scratch it was to think horny thoughts, which, when they can't see the next step and actually touch themselves can grow into a vicious feedback loop where they really do get super aroused. Maybe that doesn't make a huge difference, but I'm trying to say it wasn't the kind of situation like the original magic word where someone could have any person they want just by choosing a target and speaking it in private. People had their own tastes, and a girl who used it on her crush might find him unceremoniously just abandoning his conversation with her to try and hit up Miss Blum, or to go and rape the girl his heart was set on, whether because he knew she was nearby and would rather take it out on her and claim he thought she did it, or if it was genuinely in the mistaken belief that she did and it just took longer than usual to build.
You had to be careful because of that last thing... boys weren't always conscious of exactly when the boner started to grow, just when it became all they could think about, so identifying who actually triggered them or when it happened was tricky… or, indeed, that it was the magic word at all as opposed to ordinary horniness. I'm sure some completely innocent girls were sent to detention just because somebody inspired a bunch of boners, either with the word or in a natural way, and the teacher just assumed because her lips movedor she was a known cocktease. The fact that it can be deployed stealthily, unlike the original word, leads to it being used a fair bit… sometimes just girls enjoying their power, of course, but for all sorts of reasons by all sorts of people.
Guys, once they learned the word by reading it, sometimes dropped it on one another merely as a cruel prank (and with that feedback loop and no girls around, more than a few experimented with things they swore they weren't into).
Our swim team coach used the magic word before time trials and didn't do anything sexual with the boys. He says it was meant as sort of resistance training, get them used to swimming with extra drag so that in competitions they'd be even stronger. I don't know if it worked, and maybe it was an excuse when he was discovered, which was inevitable. The use was only notionally sneaky, after all, nobody could doubt what had been done to those boys just by looking… the results were obvious enough in their speedos to the swimfans and other observers that the School Wiki had a ranking of everyone who wanted on the team, along with their estimated cock length and girth, often with sneakily obtained pictures of bulging suits, by the end of the first day of tryouts.
Once it became more widely known, I heard Jackson tried to use it in a misguided attempt to 'cure' his granddaughter, until he caught her squatting her shapely ass on a stiff vibrator, rather than going out to get a girlfriend as he intended. That prohibition about masturbation while under the boner stiffener generally only applies to either direct stimulation to the penis itself, or some other action where you use your hands, so Jackson's granddaughter discovered that a vibrator, if she kept her hands off the vibe while riding it and nothing touched her penis, it could give her some relief from the strange horniness, while Jackson himself discovered that if he maneuvered himself behind her while she did it, and used his imagination a little, it was more entertaining than Fox News.
I know Roberta Patrick used to casually drop that word on boys visiting her workplace, supposedly under the theory that boys were typically less interested in books than girls, particularly as they reached adolescence... but if they popped boners every time they came to the library, it might lead them to a lifelong lust for learning. I say supposedly because that might not have been her actual motive… I mean, I'm sure that idea genuinely tickled her, but mostly I think she was just having fun with the power and maybe leaving herself in a vulnerable position with hard up little boys. After all, it's just as easy for someone to drop a magic word on her while she's reshelving books in a lonely corner of the middle grade section. Of course, they knew they could do that without her giving them little boners, because she categorically refused to allow cameras in the library on principal, under the theory they might be abused to let the government track reader preferences, something she vowed as a librarian to stand up against. Any place where people could get away from monitors quickly became an attraction for teens looking to play. So maybe her scheme to promote more reading wasn't entirely innocent, but library attendance was higher than ever, that's all I know.
Rationalizations and excuses abounded in those days. I know one mother who used the boner stiffener magic word as an educational incentive in a different way, putting it on her teen son when he got home from school, informing him she'd done it, and that only if he finished all his homework would she help him take care of it or let him go out. She wouldn't allow her son to get off easily by using a word on her, either, she was one of those who played loud music at home all the time, in the hopes that if the magic word was said some beat would snap them out of it immediately. A lot of families used that hack, early on, although we later learned if you get too used to any type of noise enough it stops being startling enough to wake you.
Another mom I remember used it in a Machiavellian attempt to trap her husband. Cheryl would go out jogging (possibly running her jiggly ass only as far as Father Quinn's place, but that's unconfirmed), but use the word on her husband Hank just before she left. The hope was to catch him abusing their nine-year-old daughter on hidden camera so she could arrange a divorce where she held all the cards. Hank had no idea what was making him so horny while home alone with his daughter, until little Emily heard her mom using the word, realized what it meant, and chose a side quickly. She always was a Daddy's girl, and so explained to her father, who was trying so hard to be good, exactly why he was always so hard and awkward. The couple did get that divorce, but Emily went to live with dad, and they don't speak to Cheryl anymore. Hank did wind up impregnating his daughter, too, not long after the divorce, so maybe Mom's plan wasn't way off. But don't worry, that pregnancy was Emily's fault as much as anyone's. At least, the inquest determined her daddy wasn't in his right mind, and maybe she wasn't either considering the selfie video of her happily taking the creampie while asking for a baby brother or sister. Emily has no memory of making that video, but after watching it at the inquest, she was proud enough of it that she wanted to show it off not just at her baby shower but at the town's summer film festival too. If you've seen one of the screenings, you could tell from the footage, clearly she was ecstatic to have her dad send a load of baby-making juice into her eleven-year-old womb… and Hank looked like he was into it at the time but afterwards he was so mortified by what he'd done--and retained no memory of--that we didn't see him at Church for a month. So it was pretty clear who was ultimately at fault. The selfie video all goes to her state of mind, as they say.
Anyway, my point was, there were plenty of unexpected boners after the discovery of that magic word, and certainly not all of the victims were willing to wait for it to go down on its own, walking around with a rock hard erection is uncomfortable, and one shitty unfair fact about the world is that men's pain is considered more worthy of action than woman's. So, it kind of led to the attitude that if a guy had a boner that he thought was unnatural that he couldn't deal with himself, it was okay if he took it out on the girl he thought caused it, as long as he didn't make a big disruption or cause any suffering in the process, and if there was anything the magic words were good for it was letting guys efficiently get their rocks off in a girl without her objections bothering other people… done right, even the girl so used didn't notice what had been done, though of course he had to be careful with pulling out, lest he leave stains on tops. Gradually, I guess that permissive attitude just kinda evolved into 'if a guy had a boner he could use it,' but it took a while.
Clearly, the boner stiffener didn't turn out to level the playing field as much as people hoped, in fact it might have tilted it even worse. Part of that was from that laissez-faire attitude, and that there was enough to deal with already that shrugging off what seemed like lesser cases seemed like the only sane thing to do, even if there were frequent cases of blurred lines, crossed wires and mistaken identity as to who was to blame for a particular erection, particularly when girls also seemed to be teasing a lot more.
The other big magic word that was circulating around that time was another that tended to make women more vulnerable than men. We wound up calling it the Nice Butt magic word (some still refer to it as Dat Ass, but a lot of people insisted it was too vulgar when you had to warn your kids about it). It's another of those archaic words, that means, basically, 'nice butt', but like an adjective, so, the quality of having an attractive rear end. Like all magic words back then, whoever fell victim to this one never remembered the word itself being spoken, and like the first, this one worked on most of the women in town above age eight, including trans women who weren't out yet, and also some men, again, presumably for variety. A much higher proportion of men fall for this one, maybe twenty percent but the number of immune woman is about the same (although, interestingly, not always the same group that are immune to the original). The Nice Butt magic word can also be easily exploited to sexually use victims without their memory afterwards, but that wasn't the most insidious thing about it.
The key difference between this word and the original was subtlety. Basically, when triggered by the Nice Butt magic word, the victim is inspired to show off their ass-ets, if you'll forgive the pun. But this time around, the hypnotized target doesn't take a particular, distinctive pose. Instead, it's left up to context and their position. So if a girl is standing up, she might find something to lean up against and bend slightly. If she is sitting down, she might shift in her seat, sitting awkwardly on her side but not caring as long as she's aiming her butt towards the one who spoke the word. Dropping pencils or deciding a shoelace needs to be retied are common decisions made in the wake of the word. If a girl wore a skirt and lacked an excuse to bend, upon hearing the word she might make what looked like an innocent adjustment, but conveniently, as though consciously calculated, causing her to show off the bottom globes of her ass more. If she's already showing underwear or in a swimsuit, she might do the same kind of adjustment, only pull it into her crack, making a makeshift thong, to let people clearly see and appreciate each cheek, or, in motion, the space between them. If she's nude for some reason, she might bend and spread to expose her asshole, like daring the speaker to fuck it, but it was usually more innocent than that, just a static pose. Well, not always static… if there is appropriate music going on, the kind that moves a girl to dance, she might be inspired to twerk. There was a lot of that when it was first discovered, sudden twerking to music, but that might have had nothing to do with magic… people just like to dance to music, and these days girls often twerk as part of it, so it wasn't a dead giveaway there was magic involved. Again, context is key. In a public setting, victims might take actions that let people enjoy the view of a shapely rear end, but are unlikely to strip. In private, with someone they might already be inclined to flash, they'll flash, but if that isn't the kind of relationship they have, they'll probably just… pose, a little, subtly aiming and framing their ass to ensure the best possible view for the one that triggered them. They won't be entirely conscious they are showing off, but they'll do it all the same, and believe me, even if a girl's not aware she's presenting her backside, a guy she's with tends to notice. But it's brief, fleeting, and easy to snap them out of it… even drawing attention to their position tends to do that. That was probably why the dictionary parties didn't entirely catch on to this magic word right away. Only somebody observant might pick up on it, and even if they did, they wouldn't necessarily know how to capitalize on it.
Now of course someone figured it out, and eventually everyone did, because this particular magic word also has a phase two and even a phase three. Like the first magic word, where things change if you stuck a cock in the open, willing mouth, here, if you actually grab the rear that's being dangled towards you, a full-on trance began. With one hand on their ass a victim will ignore pretty much anything you do to them… not just the ass, actually, anywhere in the general vicinity counts. Hips are good enough, and you can skillfully avoid anything even arguably ass and grab them by the pussy and still leave them just as pliable and willing to ignore your attentions. Maybe ignore isn't the right word entirely, these girls are aware of any pleasurable sensations, and seem to find assplay quite enjoyable, even if you might otherwise doubt they would… or, at least, even an eight year old girl might moan softly like a whore when grabbed, and buck eagerly back towards an inserted finger or cock. Do it enough, they might even cum off it, loudly and breathlessly... but it's all a tranced pleasure, and, like the first magic word back then, completely forgotten after the trance ended. You always get a few seconds of leeway after you let go, as well, so if you wanted to you could move from a grab to spanking that ass without waking them up. The victim would notice and yelp as though in pain, but it would also be physically arousing, and, if you immediately grabbed hold of the area again, or delivered another slap, they wouldn't remember the act or lose the trance.
So, basically, we all soon learned that if you said the Dat Ass magic word on someone susceptible and grabbed dat ass, it was yours to play with no consequences as long as you didn't get caught by someone else. You could work any clothes out of the way (if you were careful to not let your hand cease firmly holding for more than a few seconds), bend her over more fully, and fuck any available hole. She'll be the perfect balance of relaxed and tight, and moan in animal pleasure, but the pleasure would be animalistic, with no ability to communicate or answer questions. Once the trance was over, the victim would carefully put themselves in whatever state of dress she was in before it began, and just… forgot the entire affair, though she might retain a bit of lingering soreness, and even that seemed muted. It, and any evidence deposited inside, would be the only sign she'd been used.
At least, the only obvious sign. Since there was still phase three of the Nice Butt magic word. And if the posing was subtle, this effect is even more so. In fact, some people argue to this day that it isn't actually a part of that magic word, just the gradual but inevitable shift of cultural attitudes in our little town. Whatever. I believe phase three is real. See, we started to notice if the word is used repeatedly on a girl(or one of the few susceptible boys, too, but it's easy to forget or just assume they're girls at heart so excuse me if I just use she pronouns most of the time), that she tends to become a little less self-conscious about showing her ass as part of her everyday life without the word. That is, she'd instinctively learn to walk with more of a sway like she'd learned the butt could be a hypnosis tool of its own, and she would be more inclined to choose clothes that showed that area off… kind of like she got addicted to the Nice Butt word and the implied compliment of it and wants to hear it more often. Most people who believe in phase three agree this happens not just from hearing the word and showing themselves off, but specifically if they get put into a trance state through a grab, although it's still a matter of debate about whether actual molestation is needed to trigger the effect, if it exists.
As I said, I believe it does, although I'm on the fence about whether the original magic word, the one that puts people on their knees, has a phase three. Okay, phase four, because there is an obvious phase three there, in that those who get their mouths used like fleshlights repeatedly tend to completely lose their gag reflex, and also any disgust over the taste or smell of sexual fluids. That one starts as a lingering effect, so those who were just used as a cumdump aren't alarmed by a lingering taste of cock or pussy in their mouth, or smell residue on their face or clothes after a messy pull-out, but the more it happens, the more they just seem to not be bothered by natural tastes and smells even if they haven't heard the magic word in weeks. A girl who's used often enough can guzzle down cum--or urine for that matter—like it's water, and suck on a big cock like a porn star even if she's ten and her first time doing it consciously is to try and impress her visiting older cousins, like little Annie Delgado was caught doing at her big sister's quinceañera, which almost caused a family inquisition about who told the cousins about the magic word until they found out that was the very first time they heard there was such a thing, and Annie wasn't in a trance at all and just swallowed the loads so eagerly because the taste didn't bother her and she didn't want to mess up her dress. Muscle memory, they say, explains the skill at sucking but not the lack of reaction to taste. By the time her eleventh birthday rolled around, and birthday girl bukkakes started to be the trendy thing at parties--not for every girl, mind you, or officially tolerated by most parents, yet, but for that certain class of preteen girls who were cool enough that multiple teen boys were willing to come to her birthday party expecting a good time, even when there were voice-recognition apps to prevent the magic word from being used--new girls in town or ones who were overly protected and isolated usually wound up puking when they tried to join the trend, but girls who had been frequently sent to their knees didn't even make unhappy faces as, fully conscious, they pulled a slime-covered tongue back into their mouths or, like Annie, scraped it off their faces so they could down a full glass of cum with their cakes.
This sort of thing was mainly a preteen dare by the way, although when it was new older girls tried to get in on it, which was why Anne's sister Jennifer was caught in the boy's bathroom at high school just days after Annie's birthday. Well, not caught in the act, but afterwards. See, Jennifer was maybe a little jealous that her little sister got to be on the cutting edge of a new trend, and harbored some resentment that those same cocksucking antics ruined her own party, but outright pissed off that some of the very same male friends who completely skipped her quinceañera went to help make Anne's birthday special. At least, she was pissed off until a few were willing to indulge her with a belated birthday experience of her own, in the boys' bathroom, where she was pissed in and occasionally pissed on, most of the piss not from her friends but from boys who just happened to walked in on the bathroom bukkake scene in progress and still needed to do what they came for before joining in. You'd think it would be humiliating and cause for an inquest but she's done videos of scenes like that since, and all accounts of the bathroom event said she was fully conscious at all times and the taste of and smell urine didn't bother her like it did others in her next class, so she was just sent home for the day.
So, yeah, we're agreed there is some cumulative persistent effect of the OG magic word, but the arguable phase four people talk about is something that causes frequent victims to be a little more focused on beauty than they otherwise would be. This was only proposed in retrospect, after the evidence of the Nice Butt word's phase three effect, so obviously it's not strong enough in and of itself to make a dramatic difference. It might be just that pretty girls get the word used on them more often and observers mix up cause and effect. Besides, Jenny's return to class with mascara running, lipstick smeared, and smelling of piss proved that victims weren't so focused on prettiness that they had a problem getting messy in public (though, to be fair, she was in a rush to get to her post-lunch class without being marked late).
With the Nice Butt magic word, I think it's pretty clear there's effect, and there's even a theory with some experimental evidence that it's specifically impact that triggers it... like it's a video game hack that boosts ass-confidence by a small amount every time they're either spanked or banged into with force. Though I'm not blind to the potential that the people who hold to this theory are just trying to give themselves another excuse to do that... like it's not their own needs they're succumbing to, they're helping a girl get over her shyness. It did become a common defense at inquests but that doesn't mean it's not true. I think it just makes sense that even if a victim doesn't consciously remember the pleasure her ass brought her, it's in there somewhere and makes her want to push the envelope more than somebody who got put in a trance and got no pleasure out of the deal.
Either way, the envelope does seem to get pushed. It's not blatant, or there wouldn't be disagreement about whether the effect's real, but when such girls choose clothes for themselves, or for others for that matter, they seem to prioritize how outfits will flatter the butt, or provide the ability to make a better show if the word gets used on them again. Always filtered through their own biases and attitudes and self-image, of course. Girls might decide to exercise more, or eat more, whichever they judged was more likely to give them a better butt to show off. The boys affected, if they thought skirts were too girly for them, might restrict themselves to tight shorts… though it was during this period that trans girls started to more openly dress girly, as though to advertise that their ass was a girl ass open for the grabbing. If a girl hated skirts before, she might be a little more likely to try them out (especially if, before, fear of people peeking under them was why she shied away, since that idea would start to grow more and more appealing), but odds were better she'd go with those kind of form-fitting tights that show the form of the ass without actually exposing anything. If a girl was too young for thongs, she might choose a tight pair of undies, or wear ones with super cute designs because she hoped they would be seen. In general, baggy jeans quickly went out of fashion, while tights, skirts, and short shorts were even more in than they already were. If you could show sexy underwear, great, if you could show you weren't wearing any, sometimes even better... though sometimes the right kind of underwear on a body you didn't expect can be even more aesthetically appealing than nudity. Still, in this way, those with the most tempting asses to grab made themselves more of a target, which meant that magic word got tried on them more, which meant they devolved even farther in that direction.
We eventually started tracking it, via the MSM, 'Middle Schoolers in Miniskirts' a metric we made up in the months since the momentous first magic word. It doesn't mean much now, but you understand, this was before 'underwear only' was allowed as an acceptable option in the school dress code for ages eight and up—for special events like theme days and spirit week, you understand, and at the high school level on casual Fridays, but certainly not everyday, except for a few students who have advance permission to go naked year round for religious or special needs reasons—and in early days guardians were a lot more strict about girls even showing a little too much thigh. Back then, well, high schoolers dressing like sluts was actually pretty common before the magic words, but middle school miniskirts were a big concern, and it seemed like the MSM Index was always rising. So were the hemlines of the skirts in question, both gradually as a matter of fashion and routinely for short periods as more and more students decided they liked showing themselves off in public.
Not just in public but at home, too. Probably even worse at home, since people are always a little less uptight at home, with parents seeing nothing wrong with their preteen daughter wearing just a t-shirt and underwear around the house if that feels comfortable. Some parents might start to see something wrong if one of their little girls starts to choose her sexiest underwear for lounging around the house, or no underwear at all, and worry it's as a sign of abuse. Not as many as you think, because if Mom also tended to get grabbed and used because of the Nice Butt magic word, she'd be more likely to do things like buy child sized thongs to give her own daughter better options for showing off. My friend Mary did that for her daughter, even when she was super protective of who was allowed near Tina.
See, phase three isn't so much a post-hypnotic urge to show off one's own ass, but rather just an increased subconscious awareness of asses as an attractive feature, worthy of showing off and being appreciated. So if someone hit by this word a lot wanted to look their best, they showed off their ass and thought about ways to make it look better (in fact a good early sign of a family member having been subjected to the word was if they started to frequently look at their asses in the mirror, or on the phone, for extended periods, as though evaluating). If they were giving advice to their friends, they'd advise clothes that flattered their friends' asses, even if those friends hadn't yet earned a grab, unless they were frenemies and secretly trying to sabotage them with clothes that made them look unattractive. And if a mom like Mary was somebody who got her ass grabbed a lot under the influence of that magic word (and Mary was), when making clothing choices for her kids, she'd start to think their little boys and girls would look far more darling in a thong than underwear that covered up fat cheeks everybody deserved to see if they were in a position to see underwear anyway. It was mostly moms who lobbied for the dress code rule changes that now allow for occasional underwear-only days, and most of them sent their daughters to school with skimpy thongs the first time rather than something more conservative. It must have taken quite a while for repeated applications of phase three to get them to that level of lobbying power, but I think it was pretty early on that a lot started to think, why not show off around the house too? The home is a safe place to experiment with clothes, if you trust your family or friends who might as well be family. I saw a lot of Tina's experiments, and yes, it made for some sleepless nights after my visits and uncomfortable temptations during, but, I swear, I didn't give into them, not until the first time I heard a different magic word... because I didn't want to violate that trust.
Trust's a funny thing, though, and more than a few families caught on to some illicit action going on because of changing dress standards at home. Rod Keller caught on to his teenage son Ronan cucking him, not just with the boy's own mother but with his ten year old sister, both of which had fine asses for their age even before this magic word leaked out, and he might have had to accept the chance that his son was using that very first magic word to satisfy his teenage lusts (Rod himself certainly used it to satisfy his adult lusts)... at least until the alarm app on the phone started working passably well, but eventually the barely hidden lewdness started to get out of hand. The women of the family dressing for work and school in more tight-fitting outfits might have gone unnoticed, but Rod couldn't ignore when he started coming home to them both only wearing thongs and a short shirt, or the three of them sitting on the couch together, Ronan with one hand on each ass, neither of them in a trance, but with casual familiarity that suggested ownership and a lot of previous grabs, particularly when both of them were happy wearing the skimpiest thongs that made them look practically bottomless from most angles. Rod did ignore it, or tried to, even when that extended to finding the three of them in naps in the master bedroom, or what sure looked like naps. When one of those naps included the leaking, deflating cock of his son, still wedged in the expanded asshole of his daughter, as Rachel lay face down on her mom's chest, Rod, who had finally heard about that particular magic word (not what it was, but what it did), decided they were only faking sleeping in a cuddle pile. He stood and watched until they eventually decided to stop faking and just keep on going with a lewd incestuous ass-fucking. He claims he saw trance, but I don't think it was a trance. I think watching cum drip from his daughter's ass into her preteen pussy, puffy and prominent and probably pregnable, and some continue a journey from there into his wife's, made Rod decide he couldn't ignore this anymore. So he stormed out and went to go call an inquest.
Inquests were something we did a lot in those days. I mean, we still do them, if there's evidence of anything particularly hinky going on, someone being hurt or forced and not just mesmerized… more often if an outsider's involved. But back then, with everyone vulnerable and there being so much going on, inquests were called with alarming frequency, as a final stopgap measure before the police got involved, to determine if any charges should be filed or if it was yet another thing we should just let go. Plenty were put in jail, at least for short periods, in those days, because people being used without their consent was serious business, but we still desperately needed to keep the town's dark secret a secret, so punishments were often on the half-assed side and depended a lot who got selected for your particular inquest board.
In the particular case of Ronan and his little family harem, I was on the inquest board, and so I know Ronan got off. Got off a lot, but was let off without punishment I mean, even though he broke down and confessed that he had used the Nice Butt magic word quite frequently on his mom and sister to fuck their asses. That confession made his insistence that he doesn't use the word anymore more credible, but it didn't really excuse the prior uses… at least, until Rachel tearfully confessed she'd used boner stiffener on him a lot since hearing about it at school. She said she just found it funny how big it got, much bigger and more obvious than when she tried it on Dad. Maybe she just made that story up in fear that her brother would be put away. It would probably have only been for a few days, considering both supposed victims were in his corner, refusing to press charges, but the little sister claiming to make him hard rendered it completely justifiable, in the inquest's eyes, and they were sent home. Rod slept on the couch that night, and eventually moved out, though I hear they're cordial again now that he's got grandchildren.
I've been present at a good selection of inquests over the years since the Spelling Bee. My divorce left me with enough money that I didn't need to work, so I have a lot of free time on my hands anyway, and I consider it my civic duty to volunteer when I can. One of my first inquests was to protect (or depending on your point of view, avenge) Stephanie Barker, a girl who got the first magic word used on her on her eighth birthday, at her party, by her uncle Bob (not Barker, his sister took that name when she married). It was for science, his defense went. At least, he insisted he only did it at first to see if she'd become vulnerable and would need to be protected, and then only made her suck to check and make sure it wasn't her play-acting, since a lot of kids too young to actually succumb to the magic words would still pretend, imitating mommy or their big sisters. Usually they didn't have the dick sucking experience to not gag if people took them up on it and they weren't genuinely hypnotized, so he had to try.
I sometimes regret how the inquest voted on that. Sure, he violated her trust, but it was something we needed to know, that girls didn't have to be freshly indoctrinated to succumb. And Bob proved it… whoever was responsible for this was either still active, had already programmed girls at a younger age with the instruction to only start obeying the magic word at age eight, or it was something in the TV signals or the water or something. Better we find out than leave girls like Stephanie vulnerable to any Tom, Dick, or Harry while her mother thought her safe. If it wasn't for the smoke alarm from the candles waking up mom and the other girls at the party, and their moms, they never would have been disturbed in the first place. This was the very early days of the magic words, when some families were still trying to sex-segregate, and this party did the same, a single gender event, where Uncle Bob only popping in to drop off some cake and do his little experiment, and then pop in his cock to confirm it was a real trance. If his niece hadn't gone to her knees, it would have given him a nice one-on-one moment with the birthday girl, but Stephanie was no longer immune to the word that Bob had also tested one day earlier with no visible effect. It still might have made a nice, private moment, a hell of a precious memory to hold on to for an uncle excluded from the actual event and not allowed to have any other birthday memories of his niece's eighth birthday party... if not for the smoke alarm. That, and the outraged screaming when everybody but the birthday girl woke up to see her performing the kind of service most girls could now be tasked to. Stephanie seemed the least bothered of everybody, when she woke up, even after her mother Hannah explained… which really she didn't need to do to someone who had no memory. Liable to traumatize her, as was the insistence of taking the whole event to the town inquest board, though she later tried to recant.
Personally, I think the only reason we had the inquest at all was because Hannah was jealous and pissed off her brother hadn't used her mouth instead. That's not just gossip. Just before Hannah did an about-face and tried to withdraw her complaint, he'd confessed that he had, on several prior occasions, used it on Hannah as well, and the reason he knew the magic word didn't work on Stephanie the day before was that he routinely had to make the little girl promise not to give him away. Which was also why Hannah thought for so long that her brother had never taken advantage... she assumed her daughter would jump in to protect her and wake her up, like she had at other times with other men who made the attempt, but since the divorce that sent her dad across the country Stephanie had been hoping her mom and Uncle Bob would get married. At only seven, the girl was not old enough to realize that the blood relationship made that unlikely, but at least sophisticated enough to know that two people doing sex stuff increased the odds of them falling in love.
Now, Uncle Bob certainly wasn't the only one to slip that early, with a girl at the bottom of the magic word age range, but the public nature of it all meant we couldn't downplay it and avoid an inquest, as sometimes happened, which meant I had sit and listen to a little newly-eight-year-old girl begging us not to take her favorite uncle away... and then even Hannah trying to get us to forget she filed the complaint in the first place. But we were a lot less lenient in early days, and in those first inquests, once they got started, nobody involved wanted to look weak or permissive, so we voted Uncle Bob guilty, locked him in the kennel with the other early arrestees. The local kennel was our best option, once we ran out of county jail space, since we still didn't want to make federal cases and expose the town's secret, and, one common theory went, maybe men were hypnotized too, programmed to take advantage when they saw an opportunity.
Despite our sometimes harsh judgments, we were willing to give offenders that slight benefit of the doubt in those days, at least with locals, people we'd known all our lives. Tourists… well, if they didn't have any ties here, sometimes we just employed capital punishment if we caught them crossing a line. At least we called it capital punishment, although legally it certainly didn't pass muster. It was a whole lot cleaner than adding a new wing to the kennel, and with cops on our side willing to doctor evidence that the perps went missing somewhere else, surprisingly easy to get away with. Don't worry, we don't do that these days, unless someone REALLY crosses a line, if you get my drift. Instead, we did wind up investing in a bigger kennel, the capital-K Kennel, though it runs a little different.
Most townsfolk found guilty at the early inquests went to the original kennel, which might not have felt much better than a quick execution from their perspective… they had to be locked up in cages they could barely stand up in, but in keeping with our uncertainty there was this weird mix of inhumane and compassionate treatment. They were fed regularly, but had no bathroom facilities and just washed with the same hose that washed their cages, while they were in it. Depending on who had the duty of watching them sometimes they were beaten or left alone with minimal lighting, and sometimes they were even allowed visitors, conjugal visits, or use of Officer Sandra's mouth. She couldn't work the streets anymore… I mean, obviously that just wouldn't be an option when any perp could use the magic word on her, but was kept on 'desk jobs', sometimes under-the-desk jobs, but still serving the police force. Being one of two guards at the kennel was also within her abilities so long as the other was male, and the dangerous criminals were in cages, and sometimes her partner took pity on the detainees he grew up with as friends. So did Sandra, really, and most such uses of the magic word were with permission, but under the table, a fun variation on the daily exercise offenders were allowed before going back into the cage. That kindness aside, no person should be kept like that and even after we released the milder offenders due to overcrowding some of them have suffered lifelong complications. Our new Kennel is more humane, in some ways, though you still should probably pray you don't wind up there.
If you're wondering... yes, we let the dogs out, though many got adopted first. Some people thought they could turn them into another line of defense, train pups to attack if the magic word was said. It's even worked for some people, or at least some dogs have learned that if their master goes down on her knees to bark and if something goes in her mouth to attack. Other dogs have learned that if the master is showing off her ass and they start humping, they get a good bitch who stays put until they're done, whether or not an actual word was involved. So dog adoption rates started to soar before the county jail got full, but when we had more offenders than room, we just let any excess dogs out... a few stray animals seeming like less of a concern than predators with access to a magic word running free.
Actually, the increase in dog ownership was sort of a problem at another inquest, coincidentally also dealing with little Stephanie. There was another magic word going around, maybe discovered before the boner stiffener and the Nice Butt word and just employed stealthily before the secret hit some critical mass, maybe it was discovered after both of them, with this one just spreading a lot faster. Before we realized how it worked, we thought we were just dealing with another of those gradual but alarmingly quick shifts in culture and attitudes. See, we'd been experiencing a rash of cases where lewd videos were being spread, mostly among the students, and going right down to elementary school. It wasn't an entirely new problem, but was becoming a bit of an epidemic, and soon it became clear that the claims from participants that they didn't remember making the videos couldn't all be lies… and finally somebody confessed to using the Hashtag magic word.
That's what we call it. The word itself actually means hashtag, or number sign, and unlike most of the magic words I've met a few people who claimed to know it without looking it up, but it's still obscure enough not to see regular use, and, besides that, the word requires special conditions to actually show any effect, most notably the presence of some kind of camera.
Like most of the words, it tended to erase the memory after the effect ended, and susceptibility seems to kick in at age eight, though unlike most of the words gender doesn't really seem to matter at all, although it doesn't actually cause any kind of trance. Victims seem awake, happy, and with mostly their own personalities, with one notable exception, an almost complete loss of shyness... when they believe they're being filmed.
That is the key conditions. The hashtagged have to believe they're on camera within a few seconds of hearing the word, otherwise, it does nothing. Furthermore, the camera has to stay on them, or at least on what they're doing, or the effect is lost, they lose the thread of what they were doing, and go to put themselves in the same state they were before they heard the magic word. It may be that the camera and the person holding it hold the only memory of what they'd just done, so back then it was quite plausible that a kid might nor even realize they'd just become a child porn star for example..
Although, camera can be interpreted very loosely. For example, it doesn't have to be a video camera... if you had a digital camera, you could get someone to take a series of still shots, and as long as you didn't lag too much between successive pictures and were persuasive enough,, you could get them to take a series of still poses, from an ordinary modelling shoot to a series of lewd images that tell a hell of a story. Hell, if I had a sketch pad out, I could use the word to get someone to hold for a pose. Probably just one, and it depends on their interest and patience, and their faith in my artistic abilities to capture the moment, but I've done it. If I didn't have a sketch pad out, though, the magic word would disengage almost instantly. So I guess the actual key is that they have to believe someone is making a record and is going to show it to others... but in practice, an actual camera is almost always involved. Even when I want to use someone as an art reference, it's still usually much easier to take photos and refer to them later. Still, some people point to my ability to use my sketchbook to hashtag people as evidence that the magic words have been with us since before cameras, but that's just bullshit if you ask me, since there's no other reason to choose that word except for the connection to social media.
Mostly, of course, video cameras are used, and especially phone cameras, since everyone has one, but plenty of older folks still use their old Polaroids to capture some family memories that before the words used to just be fantasies. Tthe person using the word doesn't even have to be holding the camera... even a nearby security camera can do the job, as long as it's pointed out to the target. Which includes the ones we had in all the schools. Yeah, that safety measure kinda backfired on us when this word popped up, but at least monitors could send in help if whole classes start doing mass strip shows, and victims do have to be made consciously aware of the cameras (or other means of recording the event) after hearing the word. In today's world, everyone's probably aware on some level that they're constantly under surveillance when they're out in public, but it's not enough for the word, something has to be shown to be recording them or ready to do so with no more than a short walk, for a victim to become vulnerable. Or at least they need to be convinced a record is being made, since you can also fool them with a phone that's shut off or by sketching stick figures, which works until they realize what you're doing and then never again.
Once they believe that they're being recorded or livestreamed, though, basically, the hashtag magic word makes its victims willing to perform for the camera. And by willing to perform, I mean they're pretty much willing to do almost anything the hashtag speaker or anyone else in the area suggests might make a good photo or video or sketch, even if it's something outrageously sexual. Well, not anything. There are plenty of exceptions, actually, and even more back then..., and the individual, idiosyncratic and sometimes inconsistent nature of those exceptions was one of the reasons it took so long to identify it as an actual magic word... because what one person might do, another might not. In fact, with one hashtagging a victim might do a certain sexual act, but hours or days later and another attempt the same person might refuse entirely.
Basically, though, the rule seemed to be that if it was something they'd be willing to do in private, the hashtag magic word made them willing, even eager to do it for an audience of imagined onlookers, present or future. So, for example, flashing in public. If a girl had it in her to flash to attract a hypothetical guy she was interested in, she'd make a video where she flashed, or do it on live television (not a live stage show, oddly, unless someone was taking pictures). I guess in her mind, the word convinces her that it was possible he might see it one day, and that was a good enough reason to do it. If she wasn't willing to flash, though, she would refuse and the magic word's spell would probably be broken.
No, actually that's probably a bit too simplistic. There was little more flexibility than that explanation implies, in both directions. Like for example, almost everyone's willing to get nude in some circumstances, but not everyone can be talked into stripping on camera, at least not by everyone. Same for going to the bathroom. Some are willing to take a public piss on camera if you used the hashtag, but most aren't. One major factor, I think, was they had to believe, deep down, it was something other people would want to watch in a video, or see in a photo or painting. So if they were disgusted by the notion of somebody going to the bathroom, as a lot of us grow up with, you couldn't convince them with the magic word that it would make a good video, their minds rejected it as just out of the question. It was like it was important whether any suggested video would help them build an audience or turn one away.
But sex sells. Even kids know that. You can see that on any video app like TikTok, tons of girls provocatively shaking their asses to music in an effort to get more attention. It's rare—at least as far as I'd seen before we got the magic words--that they go too far and break the rules, but if the rules allowed it, I have no doubt that even preteens in more normal towns would be masturbating or having sex, without any use of the magic word, and not just to direct people towards their OnlyFans and make a profit off it, but even simply to enjoy ever-increasing numbers of meaningless 'likes.'
Our town's actually got a special status on apps like that... videos we upload are firewalled, unable to be accessed from most of the rest of the world, and consequently our local rules there are much more lax... because with the hashtag magic word the only other choice would be to ban us, and kids are clever, they would just keep using VPNs and shit to find ways to put their perverted videos out to the rest of the world anyway. So instead, to protect everybody, there's the special firewall most people aren't even aware exists. Individual videos still make their way out to the wider world, here and there, but on the apps at least, you have to be in the town limits to see any of the new ones that get posted, or the most liked. It didn't start out that way, but the government did eventually have to intervene and that was a compromise we reached.
That is one of the good things about the Hashtag magic word, at least. The OG magic word, and the Nice Butt magic word both turned girls into pliable free use holes, basically, but the Hashtag magic word, on some level, everyone chooses what they're willing to do. If whatever was suggested was something they really didn't want, they would just say no. It happens all the time. And it happens according to their specific preferences. That was a game-changer when we were learning about this word. For months, we'd had to get used to the fact that a guy could hypnotize and stick his cock in any girl in town, pretty much. Doesn't matter if she's straight or a lesbian, doesn't matter if he's ugly or handsome, doesn't matter if she's a family member and would be horrified by her brother or uncle or dad cumming anywhere near her outside of her tween celebratory bukkakes (which at least were fashionable once word got around that inquests would no longer be called for them if there was no penetration and no magic words were used, and so family sometimes considered them a safe, fun way to test how much a girl had been exposed to the OG magic word already just by seeing how disgusted she currently was by the taste and smell). A person could take precautions, but if a predator was determined enough, he could do it, he could even film it, and if he was careful enough he could get away with it all without his victim ever even knowing what he'd done, unless she later stumbled upon the video (as happened to little Sophia, a tween immune to 'Nice Butt' and whose older sister Kim was one of the few teens immune to the OG magic word… little Sophia was smug that between the two of them they were totally protected, until she snooped on her sister's phone and found a series of videos of herself blowing Kim's guy friends, which set off a vicious sibling revenge rivalry that ended in another inquest) or turned up pregnant and demanded paternity tests (as happened to Laura Winter, our local community theater star, who swore she kept the detection app on her at all times except on stage and so accused each of her male co-stars and the director in turn, only to find out months after the birth that it was Mason, the teenager who delivered her groceries and probably one of the earliest secret users of the hashtag word, employing it to get a series of eager sex selfies with Laura with every delivery, and caught because he had the nerve to put one of them on his lock screen).
Sorry, off-topic again. The last wasn't really an example of how hashtagging was morally better, but rather how paternity tests were sometimes the only way to know who used you. My point is, anyone could be a victim of anyone or become an unwilling porn star with the other words, but with the hashtag, it was at least willing... at some point, even if they later forgot. You could tell because there was a lot more variety to the reactions. One guy might strike out if he held up a camera and asked a girl to suck his cock for a video, while his best friend might get her enthusiastically going down on him and making peace signs for the camera, because she was the type of girl who'd suck certain people's cocks, but she would not suck that first guy's cock without being on her knees at the mercy of the first magic word. If a girl was gay, she might refuse any offers of doing sex stuff with men while hashtagged, but even if she was super in the closet about it and had a pretend boyfriend—maybe secretly getting off on her girlfriends tongues using the OG magic word to maintain the lie without depriving herself--the right girl could get her to go down for the public record, if they used the hashtag on her, because that was all part of her true desires. The only thing stopping her was internalized shame. If the only thing that prevented a nine-year-old girl from having sex with a dog was concern for her reputation, the hashtag would unlock that side of her and show it to the world. If the person who used it on her knew what to request, and had a dog on hand, of course. But another girl might be years older and still feel they're not ready for sex (outside of the kind forced on her with the magic word), and so would firmly refuse all offers to make a fun vanilla fuck video.
She would probably still strip for the camera, though. At least if she'd gotten her butt grabbed enough from people not willing to respect her other decisions. The hashtag magic word might not have allowed a perv to get physical access to someone's ass, but the others still would, and that still had consequences. Some girls even managed a tricky psychological middle ground where, under the presence of a camera, they would happily make a video where they turned off or got out of sight of any protections they had from the other magic words and let friends film them getting tranced and used, yet still refuse to do anything that required their conscious participation… of course, this sort of thing happened even before the hashtag magic word was discovered, too. But Phase Three of the Nice Butt magic word ensured that the more particular victims got grabbed, the more willing they'd be to show off their asses, so someone who was not at all willing to flash their ass when hashtagged might only weeks later be doing anal vibrator demonstrations or more because by then they became really convinced their asses are beautiful, something the world deserved to see, and that maybe it would look even better with a large cock stretching out the butthole.
Not to mention... you can never quite take out the Dare Factor, or the Peer Pressure Factor. That is, a teenager might be 100% uninterested in men, but still suck cock on a dare, or a middle schooler might join in the Incest Challenge because all her friends were doing it even if the thought of her brother fucking her seriously weirded her out, or a little girl might crouch down naked in front of a horny male dog just because, in her heart of hearts, she really did feel it would make an interesting video to see one trying to have sex with a girl her age even if bestiality was something she had no personal sexual interest in. Sometimes a person would be given one suggestion and, yes, run with it, but then think of their own ideas to make the video even better.
That made inquests particularly hard, piecing together the chains of responsibility and motives, especially when the victim had no memory of what they did and the only evidence was the video itself, though sometimes you could hear suggestions yelled on them. If you couldn't… who knows? And who can truly say whether the guys who were just 'taking it in the ass for the Hash' were actually a little bit bi or just hated to back down from a dare, whether the naked livestreamed walks through town were really the sign of a nudist exhibitionist at heart or just kids desperate to impress the in-crowd who'd already done it, and whether the little girl who struggled to fit her mom's Bad Dragon dildo inside her was really a size queen in the making, or just competitive enough that she wanted to show up her older cousin Lea, who had just posted a video of her pulling her thong aside while she squatted on a rounded metal post, stretching her pussy around a shaft that jut out of the barrier that prevented carts from leaving the grocery store. Well, Tess and the dragon dildo was a solo video, so nobody hypnotized her like they had Lea… if they had, the hashag boldness would probably have broken as it does when anyone suggests something the victim believes might hurt themselves or others, but you get my point. And maybe Lea's just a daring showoff too, but... judging by the fact that even hashtagged she now refuses to make penetration videos for anyone who can't fill her up at least as much as the sidewalk bollards on main street, Lea's well on her way to being a size queen as well. Probably irrevocably so if Charlie's farm takes up her offer to help with his business this summer, which is selling horse semen online and we all know how she'd like to help with collection. I bet if Charlie gives her the job, by next year she won't even appear in a video with a dick in the human size range, it'd just be too tame and unsatisfying after a summer letting horse cum drain from her freshly-fucked gaping pussy into a funnel. Though little dicks can of course still get inside her with one of the other magic words, and that's unlikely to change, even if it's not going to be a tight fit.
So, you see, we eventually had to decide that if a girl was hashtagged, that meant whatever happened on the video was consensual. Or at least, that it was something they were willing to do, even if they were tricked into doing it publicly or had alternate motives for doing it. And sure, for things like showing off their ass, or shoving something in their ass, or deciding getting fucked in the ass by a relative or stranger or dog was good content, maybe they were also gradually groomed into being okay with it thanks to the Nice Butt word being used repeatedly on them, but that doesn't negate the idea of it being their choice when hashtagged.
After all, say you're terrified of clowns, and you've got an asshole of a cousin who finds your fear hilarious, teases you about it mercilessly, jump scares you with clown puppets, maybe even holds you down and rapes you while wearing clownface makeup.
It's a hypothetical.
Yes, okay, based on something that happened to a cousin of mine. I wasn't involved, or even nearby. Not every perverted story happens in our town, you know. Anyway, say eventually you grow numb to clowns, kind of exposure therapy, and maybe even start to like them, get turned on instead of terrified, and when you're fourteen someone asks if you want to go to the circus, and you feel your panties getting wet at the thought of it and the chance of maybe seducing a drunk old clown on his break, so you say, "Sure!" Well, obviously your consent is what matters at that point. Doesn't matter about all the terrible things that got you there, they're still wrong, and maybe you've forgiven the person who did them and maybe you haven't, but that's all besides the point. The you that you are now is in a place to agree to go see clowns, even excited to do so, and who has a right to tell you you're not actually consenting? It's the same way with stuff here. Plenty of girls were now in a mental place where they were willing to do ass stuff on camera, with just a little help from the hashtag magic word, and, as far as we could tell, that meant they were also willing to do it when their mind was clear, albeit maybe not on camera. But if you're willing to do something in private but not in public, that's kind of hypocrisy isn't it?
Our town isn't big on hypocrisy, not anymore. Which was why we started allowing magic word videos to be submitted as evidence of consent, in inquests. Obviously it doesn't completely exonerate, it's still something of a betrayal if you used a magic word to hypnotize a little kid into masturbating in public so you can embarrass them later, but someone can't very well claim their daughter would never want her own father to knock her up when there she is making a selfie video of her riding him and making sure to aim the camera at her pussy to capture the incestuous creampie and telling viewers to stay tuned for the birth video in nine months. If she hadn't wanted it, she'd have said no to the video, right? No reason to put him in the kennel, or the ground, when a fine is more appropriate.
Our position has evolved, some, of course. When I had little Stephanie back before an inquest, it still seemed pretty bad to put a phone camera on a girl in the backyard and dare her to strip naked, get on all fours and let a neighbor's dog that had been sniffing around sniff around her pussy, and then let him hump and try and get the knot in.
Stephanie wasn't the alleged victim here, she was the perpetrator, the one who made the dare of her friend and classmate Jordan. The dog involved in actually penetrating Jordan belonged to Stephanie's neighbor, Myra Eubanks, a friend of Steph's mom, who took advantage of that friendship when asked to take care of her neighbor's girl when Hannah had to work, do errands, or even go visit her brother in the kennel. We don't really know the extent of that taking advantage, the inquest wasn't focused on her, and even if it was, sometimes there's just no physical evidence. So it could be that Myra routinely whiled away part of that babysitting sitting with an eight-year-old's baby tongue in her snatch, the little girl tranced into doing nothing but licking until she was let go. Kids have no real sense of time, so if Stephanie was missing any, it went unnoticed and unpunished. What we did learn for sure was that Myra often solicited Stephanie's help in using the Nice Butt magic word... on Myra herself. Ostensibly this was so she could train her dog Loki, get him to a point where when he saw a woman presenting, he would fuck, and get Myra to the point where she was comfortable showing off her ass at the beach and maybe earn a few more grabs than Hannah. Training was going well, and might have been going well enough that Stephanie was getting the same treatment in return, but that was never proven. Medical examination had proven that Stephanie was no virgin, and could comfortably take a Tier Two diagnostic vibrator in all her holes, but we've only got so much resources to devote to any investigation, and to launch an inquest against Myra, we needed eyewitness testimony or video and we had little of either. Clearly, Stephanie had lost her hymen, but as to who had done the job--or even what species--we weren't going to be able to prove, aside from that it wasn't her Uncle Bob, since she still had her cherry when he got locked up. Her mother swore she was doing her best to be careful about who had access to her, but Myra wasn't the only person on the list. So maybe it was some random pervert, or maybe Loki was getting up to some mischief on more than just Myra's own ass. There was certainly a lot of speculation and rumor that eight-year-old Stephanie lost her cherry to Myra's dog during a babysitting session, but we didn't actually have evidence for it. Granted, the woman's later behavior exacerbated those rumors, but rumor still isn't proof.
Nor was it proven that Myra was anywhere in sight when Stephanie got her friend to make a fun video involving being fucked by a dog. Sure, it was Myra's dog, the playdate happening while Hannah was at work and Myra was supervising, but from a distance and, she claimed, she was busy trying to get in summer shape in her exercise room while Stephanie borrowed Loki to play with her and Jordan in the yard attached to the park. A lot of people still think the only thing Myra was exercising was her bestiality kink, that the one thing she liked more than a dog fucking her (and she admitted at the inquest that she's always had a low-key interest in knotting and, yes, now had a Loki outlet) was watching a dog fuck a very small underage girl (which she denied doing, back then). People still think that, in fact. Especially considering Myra now supervises the weekly meetings of the Therian club at the library, where Loki's stud services are given as one of several reward to choose from by whoever is voted best at embracing their animal side during casual Fridays (an eye-catching butt plug was ruled to count as 'underwear' on casual Fridays and so tails made their way into fashion accessories, and some students discovered things about themselves trying to be fashionable, and the club grew from there). But that's high school, with Roberta handling the boy's side of the meetings, where there is no corresponding canine sex that I'm aware of, unless you count boys in costumes fucking girls in costumes, or without, as their chosen reward. There's a group of such boys that call themselves the wolfpack, and they usually get rewards for being good boys whether they win the vote or not. They say that inside all of us are two wolves, but at the Therian club meetings, Roberta Patrick usually gets at least three inside her. As a librarian, though, she's responsible, and focused on kids' safety, and, whatever you might think of Myra, Roberta's presence there ensure a second set of adult eyes to keep things from getting too kinky or any non-club members from getting in while everyone's wilding out.
You might think from all that that, obviously, Stephanie was the first girl she watched Loki fuck, maybe even prompted her with the idea to do it to a friend and then retreated to some window with a good view, but Myra's consistently denied arranging bestiality experiences (she calls it 'getting in touch with an animal inside you') for anyone under fourteen who didn't first get parental permission to be in the club. A lot of people think she got naughty when she started out getting knotted, the new sensation of giving into a previously forbidden temptation, without consequences, overriding her better judgment, as has happened to so many others since the magic words were discovered, but with Stephanie, the only judgment error we could hang on her was allowing the little girl to use a magic word on her, an adult, and watch some bestiality attempts on herself, an adult, and not supervising properly when Stephanie had a friend over. Which was all forgivable, at least by the standards of the town at this point.
Stephanie herself though, she'd committed a punishable sin, not only by using the hashtag magic word to convince her friend to get fucked by Loki's long lipstick dick, but also because she posted the video of the mating, and the subsequent letting the veiny member drip into Jordan's mouth after the knot slipped out (it never got all the way in, she was too tight in those days). Getting her friend hypnotized to do all that thoroughly perverted stuff with Loki was maybe excusable, kids being kids, and again, the very fact that Jordan bent down on all fours and did the deed giggling with cheerful commentary proved that Jordan consented, at least in her heart, but we'd just announced a zero tolerance policy on videos being posted. It was bad enough we had too many girls, grabbed too much by someone who noticed their nice butt, who were addicted to showing off what they viewed as their best feature on TikTok, or on Mom-run accounts on Instagram, because their Moms were frequent grabees as well and felt vicarious pride watching pervs enjoy pics and videos highlighting the most beautiful part of a young girl whether in provocative motion or oiled up for better lighting effects. We also had just recently had that lesbian sex on a middle school schoolbus incident, and that maybe we could pass off as girls being girls and an oblivious driver, but too many videos of underage naughtiness in our town going viral, or turning up on the hard drives of criminals who collected such things was going to get us in trouble. Particularly if it went somewhere extreme like bestiality. We knew we couldn't afford many more of those to get out and make authorities wonder what was going on in this town. So, even when the hashtagging was just a rumor and the word itself not widely known, we visited all the schools and laid down the law pretty firmly not to post provocative videos online, and whenever there was an incident, reiterated that with more and more stringent warnings, leading up to the final zero tolerance directive. Save 'em, sure. Play the best at town meetings to lighten the mood, why not? But posting them on public apps that could draw undue attention to our home and maybe blow the town secret to the media? That we could not let slide.
Or said we couldn't. The problem was… well, there's a saying, there's no such thing as too much lube, and here, it's true, it's probably the item we import the most, even with a lot of people making their own, and consequently, there was a lot of slide in those days. Especially when Stephanie confessed, and asked to be punished by putting her in the kennel with her Uncle Bob. Kids weren't allowed visits there and the only way they got in was really bad behavior, and she really missed him. That might not have been her sole motivation, but it was one of them, to deliberately do something 'bad' so she could see him. So, sure, a little on us, there. Overcrowding was already getting us to re-evaluate the whole kennel system and we were thinking of releasing some of the less egregious offenders like Bob anyway, particularly since Hannah had offered to let him stay with her as kind of a halfway house situation, despite what he'd done and could very well do again (though she promised to use the magic word warning app). That's a sister's love right there. Now, Stephanie didn't know all this was being lobbied for, she just wanted to spend time with her favorite uncle again, and clearly the idea of being used as a sextoy by him while the other prisoners and the guards watched was both considered and considered acceptable if not attractive enough to violate a rule after we insisted we had zero tolerance for violators.
Seemed like it would cause too many problems to put her in the kennel though, so we showed some tolerance, released him and let Stephanie get off with a spanking. Zero tolerance be damned, it was a better outcome. They're a happy family now, and Bob and Hannah even got married. Yeah, I know they're brother and sister, still married. That kind of thing can happen here now.
Since the government doesn't want to deal with all our issues in the public eye of the courts, we're now considered something called a Special Autonomous Zone and are allowed to make our own laws as long as we keep to ourselves. Or maybe not allowed so much but at least they won't stop us from handling things our way, which amounts to the same thing, and we think that sometimes the benefit of having a strong stable family unit who love each other outweighs silly things like whether something is taboo or an abomination according to outdated scriptures developed before they'd even discovered good porn.
No, Special Autonomous Zones are totally a thing. Apparently there are a bunch of towns like us, scattered around the country, around the world. Not exactly like us, mind you, but places where the governments decided they were just going to cover things up instead of dealing with whatever was going on there, when dealing with it also meant arresting most of its population, giving them due process, putting it all in court records, and so on. So, we're able to set our own rules here while they just look away. Look away, and, to some degree, exploit, too... we're off the beaten path now but tourism has never quite dried up… we never wanted it to, even at the start. We couldn't survive as an island... we just wanted our visitors to be people who had no idea about our secret. Now it's kind of the opposite of what we thought we wanted. Most of our visitors are now people who come specifically for what our town has to offer, and that includes a lot of stressed out government people who need some naughty fun. But that's okay, we don't mind so much anymore if people follow our standards... at least it's steady income.
I'm sure it's the same with the other Special Autonomous Zones, so it's no wonder you've never heard of the idea. They're sometimes called Phantom Towns, since they get taken off the maps and unless you're 'in the know,' or have relatives there or take a wrong turn somewhere, you're unlikely to ever stumble through one. I guess you're just blessed if you're here and you truly didn't know about any of the magic words before today.
A lot of people hate the government sticking their nose in our business, even if they let us run things our way, but once things got started, it was only a matter of time. Maybe if the magic words hadn't been so public we could have gotten along on our own with just a higher than usual number of rapes and teen pregnancies. Instead, before long, you couldn't walk down the street without something happening that should have demanded an inquest... but the amount of reports actually went down. And it was funny, the OG magic word was tamed, a little, by the phone app which we finally got working more-or-less reliably. It took a long time, but it's a taller order than you think, since the app has to have and be able to recognize every possible permutation of the word, but the people hypnotized, they don't need it to be so exact for it to work on them. You can say it fast, you can say it super slow, you can say it with an accent, hell, you can even say it in sign language if you and the victim knows it (the app never had and never would help Miss Blum). But, we at least reached a point where it did a pretty good job of detecting when somebody tried to use it and it would send an alarm startling any victim out of their trance (unless of course the word was used when something was already in a girl's mouth, a little workaround an inquest had found being used by the corner store where the proprietor sometimes gave groups of girls traveling together lollipops as a reward for their good sense about safety, and at least one tended to wind up with a creamy surprise... more as people caught on to his trick). The Nice Butt magic word took a while to be added, but it was (though the second phase was easy to initiate even so, and the third phase not so easy to undo), adding even more theoretical protection. A weird thing happened for a while, though… the better the detection app worked, the fewer people ran it on their phones. I've heard that's always the case with new safety measures, it's never as effective as people assume because we've all got a tolerance for risk and, when people feel safer they will sometimes more risks to compensate. When seatbelts became mandatory, people drove just a little less carefully because of them. Still worth it to have them around, and likewise, the app did make things better on average, but just not as effective as people hoped, because a lot of people most vulnerable to the words started, for one reason or another to abstain from using the app that detected them.
For some it was privacy concerns, and when you think about it, it was a bit creepy that it had to be on at all times, listening to every word and with a vague privacy policy that might mean perverts were listening in or taking advantage of everyone's secrets. It's different than with, like, Google, because that's an impersonal corporation, but we knew this app was developed by people right here in town, that's why it took so long and was so shit for so long.
Most people, though, I think it was more that it was so irritating to have it going off all the time. It worked well enough, but there were still tons of false positives, false alerts, and if you've ever lived in a building with an overenthusiastic fire alarm you know it dulls your readiness to respond. Every alert that showed up in your phone, you had to stop and really consider whether it was false or you just didn't remember being used, and who really had the mental energy to do that all the time? So maybe it was better off not seeing that alert in the first place. And a lot of people thought it made no sense for their phone to go off and make an annoying noise and drain their battery life when everyone ELSE was surely running the app which would protect them in public just as well. Even if only a few people were, that was surely enough of a deterrent for anyone trying anything, not to mention the guard dogs. Probably it was, or would have been, if not for the three magic words where it wasn't so easy to break the effect or train a dog to notice, particularly the hashtag one, where having an alarm just made it extra clear that there was a phone there that could be used to record a fun video, and the victim could be convinced to make use of the dog as a prop.
The first few weeks were a terrifying, confusing time for those vulnerable to the magic words, or those who had people they cared about who were, and it was probably exploited heavily, even from the start, but it was with the hashtagging that things really started to snowball. We'd have town meeting after town meeting, about the growing brazenness of sexual immorality, particularly involving kids, attended by citizens very concerned about the snowball, especially when they played recently discovered town videos to illustrate, including one of an actual snowball between Heather Appleseth and her two daughters, kissing sloppily to share the cum of one of the guests at her B&B. Or at least we assume it was a guest, Heather didn't remember, she just found the video saved on her phone when she was looking to show off her eldest daughter's middle school graduation ceremony that happened a few months earlier. One swipe too far and there was a snowball video she didn't remember making, but thankfully never posted online. That was one of the pieces of evidence that convinced us it was probably a magic word, that a tourist knew it, got Heather to film them fawning over his cum and maybe sent him a copy, but didn't get his face in the shot so we'll never know who it was. Heather had a policy of not keeping records of visitors if they paid in cash—still has it, really--which was probably a tax avoidance thing but we had enough to deal with without worrying about that and now we deal with it our own way, letting her collect her tax-free room fees in exchange for turning over videos so we can identify offenders, and use them in meetings as good object lesson to the town about the kind of videos that could get out there.
That snowball video, now that I think of it, was also kind of the first confirmation of one of our worst fears when this all started... the Bed and Breakfast as ground zero for a sex tourism destination. It wasn't the first stranger who'd taken advantage of the magic words, but it was the first good evidence that some visited already knowing the words, rather than discovering them while here as the others tended to claim... since this guy must have known about the Hashtag before most of the town--before Heather herself--knew about it. Yet it caused barely a blip in people's behavior. Heather didn't even cancel upcoming reservations, or start demanding IDs. I guess that's the other weird thing about how people deal with risk. When there's something new that threatens the comfortable world you've grown familiar with, sometimes you get super concerned with it for a while, take every precaution, fight as hard as you can to keep your life the way it used to be... and then realize, you don't want to live like that, with constant hypervigilance almost as bad as the changes themselves,, and things aren't going back to the way they were anyway, and maybe the new status quo isn't as bad as you first thought, so you just sort of... settle in, and decide to accept the risk as part of normal life. Still taking a few precautions of course, but not overly worrying if, sometimes, and at some locations, they're not in place. That's what happened to us, I think, right as things started to snowball we were also, as bizarre as it sounds, reaching the acceptance phase. Not all of us at the same pace, but on average.
It was pretty hectic making that transition though. There were a few weeks where I spent most of my day in inquests, before they tapered off. For a time we even tried to use hashtagging as an investigative tool, to save time, at least when a local was a suspect… we get a suspect on video, use the magic word, and convince them that a confession would be a fun video. Seemed bulletproof, right? Problem was, we soon found that they tended to confess to wild fantasies that never happened. Completely filthy extended fantasies, some that sounded plausible until we investigated and found there was absolutely no physical evidence, it was just something lurking in the back of their mind, something they'd maybe never actually do even if the opportunity presented itself, but would brag about it to make a better video. And hashtagging didn't tend to work on tourists, and we were starting to decide ot was better to focus most of our investigative energy there anyway, especially once we had new options for dealing with the bad ones.
A lot of those inquests blurred together for me, I signed up for so many, but one of the more memorable ones I was a part of also involved Heather and her B&B... neither the first or last I've done with her, but this one made more waves than the earlier snowball video... in fact, it was almost as historic as the Spelling Bee, in its own way, because it marked an important turning point for us. A good thing all in all, though, boy were we mad at Heather for a long time over it.
See, she'd rented to what she thought was a couple... Frank and Everly I think their names were. Normally I don't bother to remember her guests' names… as you'd imagine, a lot of people use fake names when coming here, but these ones stick out, not just because their names turned out to be real (or at least, they insisted they were), but also because the 'couple' turned out to be an FBI agent and an actual Reverend investigating the town. That was something we'd all been dreading but at the same time never truly expecting. Now and then, there'd be a particularly suspicious visitor, and word went out to keep everything under wraps until they either left or we caught them using a magic word and proving themselves complicit.
We'd had men of the cloth visit before, but that was our first woman of the cloth (aside from a couple of nuns who stayed with Father Quinn… one of which he got pregnant and he left to go live with outside of town… he still sends Christmas cards to his close friends in the Church, which includes every family where he's lured a wife into cheating on her vows). Usually, religious folks not personally invited by Father Quinn went on the "suspicious" list, but this time Heather... well, I guess she's got her biases, because she didn't even consider that Everly might be a real Reverend. Even in this day and age where it's becoming more and more common.
Instead, Heather jumped to the conclusion that it was some sex roleplay thing. Everybody's got their own kinks, and, to be fair, the reverend didn't seem very Reverendy at first glance, aside from her collar and mannish clothes, which is fine, just a personal style thing, but Heather, she sees a girl dressing more like a man than she has to and she thinks they want to be a man, abuse young girls. The tongue piercing, which you'd have to be up close to see, probably reinforced the image. Even plenty of us who saw her from afar had our doubts she was a real reverend, first because she seemed far too young, but also just from seeing her out on the porch smoking. Some priests smoke, but it just seemed wrong when it was a young woman priest. Indoor smoking did not fly in the B&B anyway, and at least Everly was respectful enough to do it outside, and when she went about the town we learned she was pretty free with the profanity, which doesn't bother us but doesn't really fit with the image most people had of a religious figure. So Heather wasn't the only one who didn't think everything added up, but we erred on the side of safety while she didn't alter her usual behavior at all, assuming she knew what was going on. And you know what happens when you assume.
As for Frank, well, he didn't show his badge right away, and he must have read to Heather as a young businessman who was wound a little too tightly and embarrassed to need to come to a place like ours to satisfy his needs. This was a common type of visitor who usually left very relaxed and eager to be a repeat customer. And businessmen like that tended to carry spare cash, which, well… since discovering the real reason her business was so popular, Heather sometimes indulged in a little more than tax evasion, to squirrel away a little extra, for the kids' college funds. Not only had she increased prices, but when she thought it was someone who could afford it, she'd indulge in a little blackmail if they sexually molested her daughters and she managed to get proof. Many of these blackmailees still were repeat customers, considering the hefty fee she demanded like an unexpected airport surcharge, unwelcome, frustrating, but still a small price to pay to get what you want and what they often wanted was to enjoy the town and the people in it with no consequences.
This couple didn't show any of the obvious signs of that. At first the two spent a lot of time exploring stores and schools, like they were thinking of moving here, which got many of the rest of us worried, especially when we heard one of them was a reverend. Even if she didn't look the part, we put the word out, no kinky shit except behind closed doors, and, to keep everyone honest, everyone should use the trancebreaking phone apps and keep their guard dogs on hand so nobody was tempted to try a magic word in public. We even had to cancel Casual Friday at the high school just in case they were normies or the feds we were all expecting would show up eventually.
I guess Heather Appleseth didn't get the memo, or she was too eager to get a little more blackmail money. So right from the start, she'd find excuses to leave her kids unsupervised, hoping to catch her new boarders in an indecent act with a preteen child. And of course, her daughters, having been frequent grabass targets, tended to dress with super tight shorts, or skirts that revealed undercheek from behind, eye-catching in a way that got perverts riled up and made normies uncomfortable but without being blatant enough to be sure they were deliberately being teased. They actually had to tone it down when new customers were around, but even their toned-down around-the-house outfits were questionable enough that a lot of people would assume they were just little sluts who wanted it, particularly if they looked out the window and saw a girl climbing the cherry tree in a skirt and no underwear. Plenty would take the bait, too, given a parent who seemed to be visiting the neighbor a lot and for long periods (but was secretly watching on hidden camera ready to suddenly return home the moment there was something to interrupt).
Except neither one of the couple seemed to bite, so Heather got frustrated and arranged a little extra something. As a rule the kids were well-behaved and well-trained enough that they did not enter a guest's room while they stayed at the Bed and Breakfast. There'd probably be no surer way of getting negative reviews, and a B&B lives on reviews, at least it did before the magic words became well-known. My point is the kids knew it was a big no-no for most of their lives, so it was absolutely only at Heather's prompting that the two girls decided to play a bondage game with the guest bed, in their underwear, one of them with a feather duster and the other spread eagle with a limb tied to each bedpost.
It's okay, technically, they were hashtagged, and knew where the hidden cameras were in the room, so Alice doesn't remember tying her little sister Bree to the bed posts and tickle-teasing her, and the other girl doesn't remember being tormented, both with the ticklish cleaning end of the duster and the hard handle, which was quite a tease when run through panties tight enough to make a camel toe. I think the intent was to catch Frank, but it was Everly who came home first to see the scene and hear Alice break into her mom-supplied line to use in that eventuality. "Oh, sorry… we thought you were out and were just playing. Do you want to play with us?"
An opening like that, and an opening in view, or suggested at least with underwear that could easily be pulled aside and provide a real opening, would be irresistible for an actual pedophile, male or female. It'd work on me, anyway. And even people who aren't, strictly speaking, pedophiles might be turned on just by the opportunity to get away with something taboo… our town's history sure proved that well enough. But the other reaction, the one you'd get from the truly straight-laced types, would be either leaving and pretending to have seen nothing, the blind eye strategy we're also very familiar with, or a public freakout, trying to stop two sisters from doing something perverted, or running immediately for the local cops or the parents of the kids, depending on their inclination. Either way a single mother like Heather could easily pretend to be likewise freaked out and just as outraged but fundamentally innocent.
Reverend Everly did none of these things. I watched the video at the inquest. After interrupting the girls, 'catching' them in their 'game' she just tilted her head, quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, it's fine. It's not really my kind of game, but you can keep playing if you want. I just need to type up some notes, but I can do it from the desk. Don't let me interrupt." Like it was nothing seeing a little girl tied up at the mercy of a sibling, she just let it happen.
Which, okay, is also not unheard of. It's rare, but sometimes it's a prelude to the abuser reaction, watching a while to make sure it's safe, then joining in the game when arousal finally won out over prudence. And the girls did continue, because they were still hashtagged and aware the camera was on, but they'd run out of script so the feather duster teasing continued a while, dipping deeper and deeper into the underwear cleft, and then gave way to finger teasing beneath the underwear, while Reverend Everly typed something up on her laptop.
The Reverend didn't interfere, not even when Alice decided to 'tease' helpless Bree by grinding her panties in the tied up little girl's face, or when she pulled them aside for a full on lesbian act. The Reverend just looked up, and asked a few questions.
Not about the act, what was going on there was obvious, but about the town, the girl's lives. And, since the girls were still on camera, they told a lot more than they normally would. Again, people on the hashtag have a tendency to make things up, so we don't know for sure what was true, and some of it seemed like it had to be fiction. Like the girls bragging about how they thought it was fun to use the boner stiffener magic word on men staying with their mother, right before bedtime, in the hopes they would be so hard up that the men would sneak into one of their rooms and relieve themselves through rape, or through magic word free use. Of course, people just passing through the town aren't subject to the magic words. There's some circumstantial evidence boner stiffener is the first to take hold, but it's just as likely the girls used the more conventional boner stiffener of showing off their tight bodies, or perhaps people familiar with the magic words knowing they tried to use the boner stiffener, which would likely cause the intended effect on a perv anyway. Especially before bed, in the translucent nightgowns and thongs (or sometimes no thongs) they liked to use to show off their ass when saying good night to their guests before their early bedtime. I don't know if they kept a scoreboard, as they claimed, to track whether guests took out their erections on Alice, Bree, or their mom Heather. If anything did happen, there was probably at least an informal scoreboard, but we don't know that they actually inspired rapes that weren't already coming to them from the kind of men we assumed rented rooms specifically for that privilege. The bragging, even if hashtag-inspired, wasn't pulled out of thin air, so we know the two girls must have thought about luring innocents. And they probably did use the same tricks on couples, sometimes, in the hopes of making their romantic getaway more romantic and helping their mom secure some repeat business from the normal guests just there for the cherry blossoms (and their attempt to play cupid wouldn't always work there anyway, since for the tourists not attracted to the magic words often the last thing the wife wanted was to service her husband's raging boner, whether it was from magic or just bold, lewd children… and husbands with erections don't need a hypnotic effect to not want to relieve their boner through masturbation... the girls claimed to score double points if one of them was used, without the magic words, because the wife wasn't interested or wasn't attractive enough). They made that offer to Everly, to spice up their weekend by using the magic word to stiffen Frank's boner, though she politely rebuffed them , as it turned out they weren't a real couple. Of course, all this also revealed the nature of the magic words, and with a little prompting, some demonstrations.
The Reverend found that demonstration much more interesting than the earlier lesbian bondage incest, though again didn't participate, just let Alice ride her little sister's face after instructing her to lick, and then demonstrate that Bree wouldn't wake from her trance or complain even if her nipples were pulled, or the feather duster was inserted. All the Reverend did was ask questions.
And not even the questions you'd think. Not, "how often do you make your sister lick your pussy like that" or "have you ever eaten out an older woman" or even "what's the current score for your rape bait game?" No, strange questions. I mean, first she asked a lot about the magic words of course, both the specific rules of them, when this started, then what month the Spelling Bee was, and after that gently probed about whether they knew anyone who'd freaked out about all of this not being normal, I guess to try and put that idea in their heads, as if we don't already know our town is strange.
After that though, it was like Everly stopped caring and her questions instead got all weird and specific, like, "do you know anyone who has a word-of-the-day or word-of-the-month calendar" or "have you ever seen or heard about a suggestion box in town" or "have you ever been to a place called Fairyland," which they thought must have been a fairy-themed amusement park of some kind and the girls were all excited to go (Bree was awake again by this point), but we didn't find it on Google so maybe it's in another Phantom Town where something like this happened.
Either way, none of their answers seemed to be what the Reverend wanted to hear, and I think by this time she was actually starting to get aroused because she asked about places in town where the most outrageous things were happening, to hear stories about them. A lot of people are more turned on by stories than actually doing stuff.
The girls told her about the Therian club at the library, which they weren't allowed to join yet, and some of the rumors about the Church (mostly rumors, I tell you, particularly the one about the confessional, which didn't actually have a slide up window between the two sides to let Father Quinn use the magic words on whoever he wanted… I mean, I suppose it might now, I haven't really been back since that first orgy, and that was after Father Quinn's time and he was still here at this point). They also told some stories about school that even I hadn't heard, including about friends who had piercings and tattoos, given to them while they were in a trance and revealed to everyone during one of the recent underwear-only theme days. I mean I knew about the growing trend of ear, tongue, belly button and nipple piercings for girls eight and up, assumed it was mostly older siblings and peers and occasionally indulgent parents, but done on request, taking advantage of the trance state in the same way our pediatrician now does to inject vaccines or draw blood or reset an accidentally broken bone. Tattoos were a little different, I hadn't seen any tattoos for underage girls aside from rub-on temporary ones for fashion... and that cute knotwork dog paw tattoo on the ass-cheeks of Therian club girls who'd taken the Loki's knot, but those were badges of honor. So I had no idea about the surprise vaginal piercings and non-consensual tattoos that had started to appear, because I wasn't invited to be involved in that inquest, didn't even know about it. When I heard the girls stories I thought maybe it was just hashtaggery getting them to make up salacious tales, but I asked about it when watching this video and was told the basics, that it was true, and that it was being handled. They had to be cagey because at the time they were still trying to nail down the source and I was technically a suspect, only because I have a little talent in art. Nothing special, but enough to make some extra money off commissions—the knotwork dog paw was one of them, actually, though it was Roberta's concept—but I do mostly lewd art of people's original characters, and I don't even use the magic words to get people to pose, unless requested. And back then, never. I worked strictly off photo and video references I got elsewhere. One of the reasons I kept getting chosen for inquests was that I was scrupulous about not using the words myself in those days, so they should really have known I had nothing to do with this other batch of tattoos. I guess it's better to be safe than sorry, but… I know better than to want to end up in the Kennel myself.
The girls also blew the whole secret of that, the capital-K Kennel, which is how we sometimes refer to the new version. The Kennel was one of those things we always made extra-sure kids knew not to talk about with outsiders, so it was basically already almost the worst case scenario when Heather and Richard burst in and pretended to catch the girls engaged in lewd behavior, and a little late to limit the damage (they were on their way before the Kennel got mentioned, to be fair, so it wasn't just a matter of trying to shut the barn door after the horses were already gone).
It was Richard who called for the inquest, thinking, I imagine, that we were going to have to arrange an 'accident' for Frank and Everly, or put them both in the Kennel, all extreme measures but if the secret was about to be blown, something an inquest was allowed to consider. A last resort measure for innocents... we may have done that sort of thing for the abusive tourists that knew the magic words and take advantage, or din't know the magic words and maybe tried to grab a preteen girl showing off her ass and drag her into his van, wondering maybe why she's not resisting but not willing to let an opportunity slip him by... but if they're just ordinary good-hearted folk who we were afraid might tell… well, we're not monsters, we'd much rather get them on camera doing something like fucking a dog or eating out a little girl or both at the same time, even if we had to force them into the scene. Compromise them with the knowledge that they'd be just as destroyed if they talked about it, that no one would believe that they weren't at least a little willing. Works better on men, since an erection working its way into a little girl or boy says more than words ever could, and it's harder to claim they were forced when we also got film of their cumming all over the child, whereas woman have more chance of being believed if they say they were faking enthusiasm because there was a gun to their head just off-screen… but nobody wants to be put in a position where they have to deny an accusation like that when just staying quiet avoids the whole issue. And, particularly with a young female Reverend, who everyone would imagine had to have some kinky fantasies driving her towards such a full-throated embrace of religion, probably not a bad idea. If it ever came to it.
The Reverend didn't show any signs of a guilty conscience when they burst in on her, even after she tried one of the magic words the girls told her, to get Heather to drop to her knees, just to confirm for herself it wasn't just kids it worked on. Richard used that as a pretext to hold a gun on her while the police arrived. She didn't seem afraid by that, or by the deputies when they arrived, she calmly allowed them to put her in handcuffs and take her outside, although she asserted certain rights that generally speaking got ignored in cases like this. One of the deputies also confiscated the Teddy Bear camera that was being used for the blackmail scheme, since this wasn't the first time and it was going to be needed at the inquest to decide exactly what to do.
Based on the later testimony of the deputies, Everly asked a bunch of more irrelevant sounding questions of them during the car ride, about Fairyland again, and vocabulary-building calendars, and also if they knew who might have had a birthday just before the Spelling Bee. That probably disturbed them more than anything else... it was like she was the detective investigating them, but they did their duty and took her to the town hall, strip-searched her (which also didn't bother her at all, according to the deputies), and put her in a locked room to wait until those volunteers chosen by lottery for the inquest, including me this time around, showed up.
That took a couple hours, it's a small town but not everyone's on call all the time, but we came in, spent a few minutes on social pleasantries among the others, got coffee and donuts, and sat down to watch the video, which was all pretty fun-seeming up until the girls started spilling all about things they shouldn't have. "Well, shit," the mayor said, beside me, because clearly this wasn't going to be a fun scene of somebody giving in to temptation, or exploiting our town's secret, where the video itself compromises the subject and so we only have to take drastic actions if things got particularly bad. No, the Reverend now knew things that we couldn't afford to get out, and so we had to talk about whether and how to make her disappear.
"You're making a mistake," she said, when we finally let her say something in her own defense, after she'd seen us discuss and sometimes mime out the unpleasant routes available to us, and that was to be expected, a lot of people say that, either in a hopeless attempt to deny what we all knew they did, or to beg for mercy, a pleading, tear-filled cry that was usually followed by promises not to say a thing, which could sometimes be turned into promises to provide blackmail material to make sure they keep those promises. But not this time, the Reverend said it with a detached, almost amused calmness that was chilling, like she meant it as a friendly warning, the kind of thing you might say to a stranger before they rolled down Red Hill in a shopping cart, you know, doing your moral duty to warn them they are probably going to hurt themselves but still willing to watch because it was going to be hilarious.
The Mayor leaned over and pressed the intercom and asked, "And why's that?"
"Considering I haven't done anything and was clearly set up, the only reason to do anything to me is because you're afraid I'll tell people about these magic words and expose your town's secret. You think if you get rid of me, it gets rid of the problem. And it might. If I hadn't already made my report."
You could hear a pin drop, because we did remember her typing on the laptop, which we confiscated and planned to destroy after we had a look at it, and so it was possible that she was sending off a quick e-mail to somebody… at least until somebody said, "She's bluffing. The Appleseth place is a cell-phone dead zone." Originally one of the annoyances of the B&B that she tried her best to turn into a selling point, and we kept up as sort of defensive measure, and although there's an fibre-optic line and password-protected WiFi network that lets Heather and her kids stay in touch, she never shares it with customers who aren't yet vetted. No one gave the new couple the password, and the deputy followed protocol and put all her electronics in a Faraday pouch, so they couldn't connect to the outside world en route. Unless, of course, she'd already discovered the secret before walking in on the little girls' bondage session.
The answer was something else entirely. "There's a satellite phone system in my car... my laptop is tethered to it," Reverend Everly said, then dropped the bombshell. "The moment I learned what was going on here, I made sure to alert my superiors, just in case someone tried something like this." Suddenly, even though she was still in handcuffs, it looked as though she had all the power. "So unless everyone in this room also wants to go down for murder of a federal agent, we should deal with this peacefully."
"It's a bluff," the mayor insisted, or agreed with someone else who said it first, I don't remember, and then, to his deputy, "Go check out her car."
After he left, she continued sitting there… well, she could hardly avoid that, but I mean she was calm, like she was in control of the room. "The truth is, even if I hadn't made my report, killing me still wouldn't help you much. My partner and I were sent to investigate. If we mysteriously disappear, it's just going to raise more alarm bells and get more people sent here. And you folks are not doing great at keeping all your sexual little secrets under wraps." She repeated the first magic word, because she saw there were women present at the inquest, though of course our setup has the interviewer behind a glass and their words relayed via electronic means, so none of us could be affected while we ask our questions. "Interesting," she said at the reaction, or rather lack of one. "So either you all are behind it, or you have to hear the word in person. I'm guessing number two?" Not all of us must have had good poker faces, because she said, "Bingo. Well, if you let me go, I might be able to find the source of this and prevent it from getting worse." That was an offer we'd never heard before, from a tourist at an inquest at least. I guess that showed too. "What? You think this is the only town something like this has happened to? Where you get wrapped up in something too big to stop, too strange and shameful to talk about, so you feel all you can do is let it happen and maybe learn to enjoy it? The government has ways to offer support to towns like yours. I can help."
"We're from the government, and we're here to help" is widely considered one of the scariest things a community can hear. Except maybe if there's just been a hurricane or something and even then, it depends a lot on who's in charge. So we were skeptical, of course. We talked among ourselves, not through the intercom, some of us thinking we needed to kill her now because she knew too much, others wanting to hear her out.
I was pretty quiet to that point. I usually am, in inquests--I'm not much of a talker, you know--but I figured there was no harm in listening because we could always kill her after, but if we did the killing first we'd never know what she had to offer, or what the government might do, and I pointed that out. "I get it," Everly said. "By this point, you're scared of help. Many of you are probably compromised, and you've started to like how things work here. But it's not like we can throw half a town in jail. When a problem gets as big as yours has, the strategy shifts to harm reduction, community support, and containment. You're not going to keep your secret much longer. Not without the government's help. As we've done before, with other towns like yours."
That was when she told us about some other towns, like the one where kids kept getting kidnapped and turned into pets, dogs, cats, horses, pigs… not real ones, obviously, but with sort of intense play-acting, with costume pieces the victims considered part of their body. After they're returned they refused to wear clothes or walk and speak like people, even to report a rape in progress. It's a good thing we didn't let Myra on the inquest, she'd probably arrange a field trip there for the Therian club, the place is not even that far from us, yet we hadn't heard a whisper. There's another town across the state line where a hip trend in schools became wearing bracelets that identified you as someone who thought the best sex was rape and who consented to being forced if anyone felt so inspired, a tradition that persists. There's another where, starting in middle school, one boy and one girl every year was selected from each grade to attend school naked and serve as sexual demonstration tools for the other students, allowing budding minds to explore their curiosity safely, and the tradition gradually morphed into including serving for school staff and their own families as well. It still goes on, even though we'd never heard of it… you'd think everyone would, but according to Everly, the government protects their right to continue their tradition in exchange for not being public about it, and the only change they demanded in that town was allowing kids to opt-out for selection. Few did, according to her, which gave hope for our town, too.
By that time I think she'd asked for water and a bathroom break and was given it, returning to the room no longer handcuffed, because we wanted to hear more and get an idea of what the government does in other towns. I'm pretty sure she wasn't handcuffed when she told us about Bayport, which shocked me, because I remember that one, sort of.
I've got family in Bayport. More cousins, somewhat out of mind except the occasional Christmas card or family reunion, and if I'd thought more about them, I might have at least considered some connection between their town and all our troubles, because, once I did think about it, I remembered they supposedly had a mass brainwasher just like we must have. A salacious story was broken by some online journalist a few years before our problems started, that little girls were being conditioned to never refuse any sexual advance and also never talk about them. I guess I never made the connection because in that case, everyone quickly assumed it was a hoax. Turns out, it wasn't a hoax, not exactly, nor was it exactly the truth, but you'd never know it was either if you tried to google them. No reference to the scandal can be found anymore, even though I vividly remember reading it, and what's more, now almost every reference you can find to the town is actually talking about one of the other towns in the country by that name. My family always said they were a tourist town, and you'd think one of those couldn't survive when every time you go into a search engine you find completely the wrong place, but they're doing just fine. I guess people find out about their particular tourist attractions another way, word of mouth, and word of willing mouths can spread even in the face of online censorship.
We learned about a few more of these Phantom Towns while Everly earned our trust and told us what we could expect if we came clean with her department. There'd be an investigation, where they'd want to interview people, with the promise that if we cooperated absolutely no charges would be laid for any immoral activities discovered unless local authorities saw fit to prosecute. They would refer any discoveries about past criminal acts onward only if they thought someone was in immediate danger, and lower-level and victimless crimes would be ignored entirely in the hopes that it led to greater candor. This was because their investigation team would be entirely focused on who or what exactly caused the condition the town was in, and prevent things from getting worse, which was their primary concern. I assumed the perpetrator, if found, would be exempt from the 'no charges' offer, that they would be taken and punished, but she never actually said that and as far as I know it never happened... after a few weeks they seemed satisfied that their investigation had concluded and, whatever they might have found, none of the townspeople had suddenly gone missing around the same time. At the start of the investigation, she promised, we'd be taken off maps, and certain roads would be blocked or redirected to avoid the town, but not all of them, so we could still have the our regular tourists and family visits while we 'sorted our own shit out' as she put it, whether that meant continuing this way of life or attempting to put the genie back in the bottle. The government offered support for whichever decision we wanted to take, a resettlement program for those who wanted to leave, and assistance recruiting new compatible-minded residents if that was desired, the only stipulations being we couldn't force anyone to stay in town who didn't want to--aside from those convicted of a crime--and that certain online quarantine procedures would also go into effect to prevent people from sharing anything they learned about the town, and to make sure no more of the videos that lured them here got out on the wider Internet. In addition to the resettling plan, they would offer counselling to anyone who wanted it, family planning support and benefits, and, in our case, experts in hypnotism to help with deprogramming anybody who couldn't stand living under the influence of the magic words. The last was something we didn't have much faith in and, as you can imagine, their experts were of only limited help, but the rest of it sounded pretty good.
We were in the middle of talking through that offer when the deputy came back in, looking scared as shit, and that was because he had a gun at his back. Frank, Evelyn's partner, had gotten concerned at her suddenly going missing and was there to rescue her. He seemed almost frustrated that she didn't need rescuing, or maybe it was just at her evident amusement that he thought she needed his rescuing.
Our town didn't really need rescuing either, as it turns out, but a little support can sometimes make a world of difference. The government followed through with most of what they promised, except of course turning us back to the way we were couldn't happen. Nor did they entirely stop things from progressing. We did get one more magic word, after all, after Frank and Everly's investigation concluded, and that lead to a little bit of a crisis until, like all the other words, we discovered how to fit it into our lives with minimal disruption.
The last magic word—for the time being, at least--was another Dictionary Party discovery. Those kept happening, even though--you'd think—every kid had gone through the whole dictionary twice over, and not just the usual dictionary but like the full expanded spelling bee dictionary, cover-to-cover, several times. There was a theory, in fact, that maybe the words were dormant, that first they needed to be spelled out loud or used in a sentence or both before they started affecting people. I guess that's more comforting to believe than that they were new, that despite everything words would keep popping up with new effects. I don't know if either theory's true, it's not the kind of thing you can easily test, though it was why we started holding town spelling bees again… they always get well-attended because nobody wants to be caught out being the only one not to know about a new magic word. And it's educational, for the kids.
We added a few fun twists, too, to make it more interesting for spectators, like instead of being completely eliminated on a wrong answer like they used to be kids can choose to earn a second chance with a challenge round where they have to spell with some distraction randomly chosen from the spin of a big wheel, like squatting on a dildo for every letter, or while being fucked by a dog on stage or with a cock in their mouth, peppered with words rapid fire until someone screws up or, sometimes, everyone competes to reach some specific win condition. The competition doesn't provide the dildos or dogs or dongs either, each contestant has gotta come up with that themselves, meet the challenge if they want to earn the second chance, and whoever wins those rounds is completely back in the running, so it's fun to see the really competitive kids scramble when they get their challenge assignment. Contestants are all hashtagged so shyness isn't an issue (we also noticed early on that victims in videos were very verbal and prone to playing with their phraseology, like wowing with wordplay or stressing certain sounds is itself sexually stimulating) but with the eliminated having to work to get their redemption, you really see who's prepared and who doesn't actually want it badly enough. And the kids have reason to want a win... winner of the bee as a whole often gets a temporary 'free pass' on using the magic words in school without punishment, kind of a 'king or queen for a week' type situation. Usually queen, since girls tend to want it more.
The last magic word didn't come up at one of the spelling bees though, and it's obscure enough that it must have been a dictionary party, and I think the discoverer wanted to keep it their little secret... but there were a few twists to this particular word. The first is that it doesn't actually wipe memories, except for the word itself being said, but you can figure it out what happened to you once the effect sets in… and this one affects both males and females and even the speaker. It's very much like the boner stiffener magic word in that it increases arousal dramatically.... certainly inspires boners in those that have them. The key difference between the two is that nobody forgets about the concept of masturbation, and of course, you don't have to have a boner. If you have a pussy it would start to drip too… at least if you're within the target age range.
See, the word is a rare, old-fashioned niche word that usually gets explained as 'horny teenagers' but specifically means somebody fourteen years of age or older who is starting to be driven by lust… and that sentiment is echoed in the effects of the magic word itself. If you were thirteen and heard it, you might be getting aroused soon anyway, but that would be from context, just because your older friends were now horny as fuck and could see you as a convenient person to vent those urges on. It's a dangerous word to use, unless the one person you really wanted to fuck was in the room with you, so obviously we don't use the actual name. We call it the Goat word, some of our etymology fans in the school system say it's in the word roots, but some of our young people call it the GOAT word, as in Greatest Of All Time. And you can imagine how out of hand it got, for a while... just one word and a boring High School Calculus class could descend into an orgy, including the teacher if they were up for it.
Now, the word's supposed to mean horny teenagers, and it works most reliably on them, assuming they're at least fourteen. That lower limit is strict, but the upper limit is not. While it's true the older people get, the less likely they are to be overcome by lust upon hearing the word, most people under fifty succumb now, and plenty over. Some people say that, in our hearts, we never stop believing we're teenagers, unequipped for the adult world and wishing we could just let loose and follow our basest urges, and that's why the word still works past the teenage years… but it does work, at least on plenty of them, and when the Goat magic word broke out we had another huge adjustment.
You remember during the pandemic when everywhere had hand sanitizer pumps everywhere? We had to do the same for lube. I mean, the word makes a lot of its victims produce lube, but not everyone's got the same capacity. And if your nine-year-old thinks its funny to use the word on you at the breakfast table, you better bring extra because she's not doing her share.
That's not to say everyone was lured into fucking family. Or that kids were necessarily in danger if the word was used around them. That was part of the reason many of them found it fun to use the Goat word… because it was like hashtagging in one respect, it doesn't rob you of your own tastes and inclinations, except maybe if your tastes tend towards violent rape, because people who are goated tend to take no for an answer, at least if it is a firm no… attempting to physically force someone who said that makes your genitals burn in pain, though there are loopholes… if someone's mouth is so occupied that they can't actually refuse for example (employed to great effect by anyone who's kink is BEING violently raped), and, for everyone, using another magic word is always on the table if a 'no' got to be unbearable. Using a helpless trance victim often gets excused as 'not quite rape.'
Most people, when falling victim to the Goat magic word asked, though, and not indiscriminantly… they feel the overwhelming sudden horniness, and then make their first moves towards the potential partners they are most excited for, which meant sometimes in classrooms they started with a race to gangbang the most popular girls until they were so occupied that the rest of the horny began to look elsewhere. Still, some people won't look elsewhere. There are, that magic word proved, some people who genuinely won't cheat, even in horniness, just as there are others who won't give their spouse a second glance if they're horny and there's a chance and excuse to fuck somebody new. Likewise, many fathers just do not have it in them to fuck their daughters, even if they beg for it, while others see their kids as property and think if you can't use your property to get off what good is it to you? A gay guy might not fuck a girl and a straight guy might not fuck his gay friend, even if they are the only two in the room, and the other is coming on strong while they were both horny as fuck. The Goat magic word makes you lose some of your inhibitions, but it doesn't change your essential sexuality or interest map.
Of course, just like people in prison sometimes learn, when they get too horny, no matter how much they might think they're straight, deep down they're actually 'any port in a storm,' type people, and the Goat word makes for a compelling hormone storm, giving you an excuse to act on long suppressed urges. And asses are asses, even if it's not your preferred gender or the ass is related to you. Still, people are different, and some have lines they just won't cross, no matter how horny they get… family's often one of those.
By the same token, there are picky people who'd just prefer to masturbate to whatever else is on offer if their favorite person isn't available, or their favorite kink isn't provided for. I heard somewhere it's called a fetish when you can't get off without it, and if so, that means I know a lot of people with specific fetishes and a lot of others who just have favorite taboo tastes. There are adherents of the Therian club only amenable to action if there's an animal costume, or an actual animal available, while the average attendee will allow anybody they're aroused by to appreciate their adolescent bodies, and maybe bark or bite or baa to boost the buzz. Whenever little Lea's class got the Goat, she consistently considered the cocks of every classmates as too small to climax on because they couldn't properly fill her up. She was a size queen, not a snob, and she'd still happily stroke a shaft that couldn't satisfy or let several spray their seed all over her, but stuffing her slit and the sensation of stretching was central to her sexual stimulation, and lacking a stallion to satisfy her, she was stuck. Depending on the teacher in the room when it happened she might either do her best to become the teacher's pet or, failing that, get a friend to fist fuck her, or find a fucktool she fancies will fill her, so referring to it as her fetish feels fair. By contrast Jennifer Delgado is perfectly pleased to let people pound her pussy even if they're not willing to pee on her or in her, though she is pretty partial to that, so I guess that's perversion's just a personal kink.
As I said though, most people aren't nearly as picky as they pretend to be, which means the Goat magic word is pretty much a recipe for an instant orgy wherever it happens. And it wouldn't have been so bad when it first broke out, if breaking it out just led to that, one a brief intense orgy until everybody burst and then back to business. It could have become an ordinary part of our day, managed, scheduled even, so nobody had any sexual energy left if the word got used. The real problem is that the Goat word left everybody horny for a long time, while orgasm itself became super difficult. Ejaculation still ensues, with enough excitement, and plenty of people have gotten pregnant during a magic word orgy, but the release of seed is only a mild pleasure for those with cocks, with almost no loss of erection or arousal. The actual bliss and relaxation associated with orgasm is locked behind a psychological block, which leads victims to try more and more daring things to achieve it. And even once reached… they might fall asleep if allowed, and if they could, they would wake up no longer affected, but if it was a big orgy and a lot still going on, they were likely to only get a temporary reprieve before the arousal overwhelmed them again.
In some ways it was easy to shake off the Goat's effect, of course, which helped. The obvious route, other than waiting, is something like cold water being sprayed on the afflicted. Gotta be cold, though (or pee would work, and Jennifer isn't the only one who gets more turned on by that), and it needs more than a splash, mind you. Really, you need a good spraying which, as you can imagine, is not an ideal solution in a school setting… but if you're Natalie Hatch spraying down your fifteen-year-old-twins in the back yard to get them to separate before you have to raise an incest baby, it helps to have an option. Not that it really solves the problem, of course, since who do you punish when neither will admit to using the word? Maybe it was a passing neighbor on the other side of the fence after all. You can't even just leave it alone, because the goated don't lose their memories, so now both Elizabeth and Aaron know the other one is willing, even eager, to fuck unprotected if they ever share a moment of mutual horniness, which is a game changer for a family.
You might think that by this point everybody was involved in debauched scenes daily, and sure, almost everyone over eight was vulnerable to one magic word or another, maybe most if not all the girls had their mouth used or ass grabbed and used, but without remembering it. Still, trends like the bukkake birthday parties were outliers, among the popular kids with permissive or inattentive parents, and there were still plenty of families doing their best to keep their lives and families moral, and doing a decent enough job at it. The most successful of these were the kind who took phones away from their kids or destroyed the cameras, so there was less chance of them being hashtagged when that word was discovered (while keeping the magic word alarm app up to date and on their person), the ones who made sure outings with friends were supervised or at church, and those who decided to home school when news about the Goat word broke out and they couldn't rely on even the minimal safety provided there.
Natalie was one of those parents, willing to wipe her daughter's body down quickly with a ready wet-nap if anything happened that the app didn't protect from so Elizabeth would never catch on that she was a victim. She was even willing to put the app in sleep mode for five minutes (a frequently-requested feature that was added even before recognition of more than one magic word), always while her daughter was in the shower, so if her son Aaron needed to, if the teen was tempted to the point where he was considering going that ultimate step and taking advantage of someone without their consent, he could use Mom's mouth and neither of them would speak of it. Mom wouldn't even have to know but it wouldn't be as monstrous if she'd put herself in the position, and saving Aaron from doing something monstrous was a priority. That and making sure Elizabeth could be spared as much as possible from the consequences, and keeping what little dignity they had in town as being among those who had not totally embraced their life under the magic words. Who can say if Aaron ever took his mom up on that offer? Nobody ever witnessed it or filmed it, but many did witness how he was happy to use his twin's pussy when the Goat got them, and she was just as excited to be used, neither of them going for any less risky option when they were horny as fuck and a full on twincest creampie was on the table, specifically the backyard picnic table by the Sunday barbecue where Natalie found her kids going at it, proving their mutual desire and willingness until she turned the hose on them.
I say proving because, like I said, people under the Goat magic word tend to go for what they want, even if secretly, and if you and a sibling are goated together in a back yard, even if you were so horny you could BARELY think, unlike a lot of the other magic words you still COULD think and decide what to do with that horniness. Plenty of options open to both beyond just banging your sibling with the intensity of a long-pent up fantasy, going at it hard until an only-briefly-inattentive good mom returns with the hot dogs and is shocked to find another kind of hotdogging already in progress, only getting the natural order very wrong as the weiner went from rubbing against the buns to getting thrust into a very warm and very risky oven. Natalie had done better than most in keeping her two kids out of the line of fire of sexual immortality, so I can only imagine how it felt seeing them rutting like animals, and then pull out only long enough to switch to rutting like lovers, staring deep into each other's eyes, standing up, one of Liz's legs on the ground, the other over his shoulder, looking like they'd decided to reward Mom keeping them safe so far with a grandchild. Like most gifts Natalie received from her kids, they were happy to go halvsies on it, even if it was a gift she decidedly did not want just then, and begged them not to give her.
The hose was her last resort, a desperation move after a good thirty seconds of pleading with Aaron not to fuck his sister while he very clearly was already doing so, and said sister begged him to ignore mom and just cum inside her and looking like she wasn't far off from convincing him, so you can understand the move. Short of hitting them, a spray of cold hose water seemed like the only thing that had a chance of bringing them back to their senses... and it did, demonstrating very effectively what became our first defense against the newest magic word. Of course, it was at a cost, because their screeches drew just as much attention from neighbors as their moans and grunts and begging did, if not more. It was in front of a lot of eyes, while her kids were wet and dripping and their shorts pulled up again, while both of them reflected on what it meant that attempted twinpregnation was the one option they both jumped to, Natalie then tried to hammer home her point, by listing all other, presumably preferable options she thought they could have taken before resorting to risky incest, outside, where neighbors could see. It was easy enough for both of them to decide to masturbate, or Elizabeth could have tried out the family dog, or either could have invited one of the neighbors within earshot to hop the fence and hop on a horny teenager, or even just one or both could slip out the gate and go prowling, and if all else failed, at least go inside and do the taboo in secret.
Of course, the last two wouldn't work, or it'd work best of all, depending on your point of view, but Natalie didn't know yet that the other way to get the urges to stop when you're goated is much simpler, though it takes will to use it on yourself. Less will than just chastely waiting for the feeling to pass normally, which takes about an hour or so, whether you're doing anything or not. But if you can't wait that long, passing through the threshold of any doorway (a garden gate included) instantly cures the arousal given by the Goat magic word. Cures might be an overstatement, actually, as any horniness that was already there doesn't go away, and in fact is probably boosted, just because hearing the word pumps you full of a bunch of extra arousal hormones that are bound to linger for a bit. But at least passing a threshold reduces the compulsive horniness, the difficulty in actually achieving orgasm. So (at least, once this one neat trick was discovered), people could just leave the room, or the backyard, if they felt urges, before giving into them. Problem was, when you were in the grips of the word, you WANTED to do something dirty, not to leave, and the people around you might be just as down for it, and why ruin that by running for the door when you could run a train on your teacher, or suck off your sibling, or get naked with your friends, or strangers, and have some fun that might never again be justified with such a ready made excuse, "It wasn't my fault, it was the magic word!" You got horny, you got weak. Nearly everyone's got a story like that now, and FOMO and YOLO make a powerful combination. Still, even today, there are plenty of people who get goated and do just make for the nearest door before their urges become overwhelming and they do something they regret... or perhaps it's because they just don't see their favorite fetish on offer in that particular room and don't want to settle for second best. I can understand that.
But whatever choice you make, whatever reason you have for making it, it really is a decision you only make for yourself. You can try to make it for others, but they might not thank you for it. And if the word hits a room, do you physically drag your friends, your family members away and get a reputation as a killjoy? Especially knowing that it might be for nothing anyway, just delaying the inevitable, because with a single word everyone knows, they could just resume the moment you're not there to 'protect' them. Plenty of people did use the word consensually, in parties or just alone as a pair, to get over shyness, awkwardness, or just to enhance the experience, better than Viagra at that. There's no better way to find out if you've got compatible kinks with someone than to lose your inhibitions, and if that occasionally leads to a couple calling one of their kids into the bedroom to make a threesome, well, they were both prone to doing that eventually.
Just as likely it was the kid's fault, anyway. That was one of the big problems we had early on, see, kids using the word, amused as fuck because they weren't subject to its effect. And it's how the word spread so fast, once it was discovered, because that first group that figured it out at a dictionary party, teenagers, they were fell under its sway and assumed it would work on the same people the others did. So, naturally, maybe a few of them wanted to break it out at home, either to get something happening with the whole family, or more privately, to get a little sibling to be all horny around them… only this magic word only kicked in at age fourteen, and below that age, if they heard the word, they could remember it being spoken, remember the user and remember anybody else in earshot start to succumb to their lusts. Suddenly, the kids had a new tool.
And don't have any illusions… just because you're not yet of an age to be affected by the magic word doesn't mean you don't get horny on your own. I remember first being aware of my horniness at age eleven, and if I had the means to inflict it on everyone around me and maybe get some sexy adults to just touch me, I probably wouldn't have had the maturity to hold back.
Add to that the feeling, maybe, of 'payback', knowing, even if it couldn't be proved, that older teen siblings or adults were putting them down on their knees or grabbing their ass and using them… well, it's only natural that it was that age range, ten-to-thirteen-year-olds, who went total ham with the Goat word.
Pretty sure the first goated classroom orgy was Mrs. Hendrix who turned her reading class into an impromptu sex education class, a fantasy she must have nursed for a long time but wouldn't try out, despite the fact that most in the class had already gotten quite an education from living in a town with the other magic words. Underwear-only days and other theme days had already happened even in middle school. Still, there were lines, and rules, and a teacher stripping down and choosing her favorite students to demonstrate to anyone who didn't already know how to make an adult woman cum, particularly an adult woman who needs multiple partners of both genders and ideally ones smaller than her… all of that was against the rules. She claims she resisted the urges for a while, sitting at her desk squeezing her thighs together while she had her students discuss the assigned book, but eventually she decided to say fuck it and go for what she knew would make her cum… although she was wrong, of course... she had an awful lot of trouble actually cumming, even with three taboo dicks inside her. Growing more and more aroused and flustered with the failure, she eventually began directing her favorite students to pair up to give her something else to watch to bring her closer.
This was after cameras in classrooms and live, off-site classroom monitoring had largely been phased out, both for budget reasons and the fear of hashtagging outweighing the fear of somebody breaking out one of the other magic words, at least when the magic word detection app could be trusted to catch most uses of it. Typically students had to surrender their phones to bins in the front of the class, able to listen for any rogue uses of the magic words but not be used, while teachers had to have a phone with the app running just in case, with spyware to ensure nobody took advantage and put it in sleep mode.
This particular magic word wasn't programmed in, yet, wasn't known about by most adults, so it was actually from Mrs. Hendrix's own phone that we got the best footage of her sex education class, which not all the students participated in but certainly enough to call it an orgy, and there was enough on that video to get the teacher sentenced to the Kennel (as we used more openly now, under our special status as an Autonomous Zone)... if the inquest found she deserved it. Luckily we learned about the Goat magic word before we severed her vocal chords. It really wasn't her fault. It was the damn kids.
The damn kids were a problem for a while… not all of them mind you, not even most of them, still plenty of good kids (with 'good' having a much broader definition these days, including a ton of lapses on other magic words and sometimes good kids joining clubs where bestiality was a reward for being extra good), but there were a few little assholes that kept unleashing the Goat in public or private. And maybe we could forgive thirteen-year-old Danny Ferguson for using the word at home with his mom Sheila, making the immature decision that if his mom was too much of a bitch to make him a man by letting him go balls deep in her without using one of the other words to push her conscious mind out of the way, like his best friend Ronny said his mom did for him, then maybe she would if she got incredibly horny... and if she was still too much of a bitch then, maybe he could at least watch her being a bitch with a dog Sheila kept insisting she didn't get for that purpose but wouldn't get neutered either. Getting some video of that and using it to blackmail his mom into riding his dick still counted as consensual motherfucking according to playground rules, so long as she remembered it afterwards. I bet he figured making her so horny she couldn't resist him would just serve her right, since she'd done the same to him, doing her exercises in front of him in tight yoga pants, bending over at the waist repeatedly in front of a son and a very alert dog and shamelessly displaying that ass that had been repeatedly grabbed and probably knotted and she was now determined to keep in good shape. Unfortunately for him, Sheila was just as determined that Danny not be a motherfucker, ignored every attempt he made to beg or plead or grab, kept the app always on to protect her (she happened to be immune to hashtagging as well), and was quite liberal with the threat of the dog intervening if he tried using another magic word to force her to do something she believed was wrong. I mean, you'd have to imagine he'd succeeded a few times that way already, the power struggle was all about getting her to allow it consciously, or even better to hear Sheila praise him for being a good boy in the same breathless tones he'd heard through the door with the dog. Among kids of that age group, it was considered a stud move to get your own mom to commit an incestuous act she wasn't merely ignorant of but had to think about and cope with the memory of, hopefully by deciding it was fun and no big deal to do it again and again, and Danny wanted to be seen as a stud almost as much as he wanted to be a motherfucker. Learning about a new word, not yet registered by the app, one that just made people super horny but didn't remove memories must have seemed like Danny's ticket to a fantasy of a free-use mom or a front row seat to a furry fucking frenzy featuring family.
Danny eventually got what he wanted there, but it took a lot of work, since Sheila's instinct when she got horny was to leave the room and take care of it in private. Kids picked up on the doorway thing long before the rest of us… they didn't share that secret, but came up with tons of excuses to keep people in the same room, or just keep following their targets around the house using the word again and again, since victims would never remember the word, just what they'd felt and done under its influence. Danny's strategy worked, at least the bestiality blackmail part of it, although by the time it did the jig was up about the word and Sheila knew what he'd done to her and punished him to the extent she was comfortable... which didn't include calling an inquest. Probably wishes she had now. If she had, Danny probably would still would have gotten off with a light punishment, as that sort of use of the magic word was foreseeable, and forgivable for a minor in a way we might not have forgiven an adult, lacking extenuating circumstances. Maybe he'd have gotten out with a few nights or a week in a cage with a gag… light, but still much more severe than the grounding and lost privileges he got at home. That only emboldened him, and once Danny started his habit of goating public locations, he became a real problem until an inquest needed to be called anyway.
We don't like to use the Kennel for kids, except temporarily as a Scared Straight-type measure (I mean, not straight, we don't give a shit about that, but scared into not abusing the magic words in ways that inconvenience everybody), but for a damn incorrigible who repeatedly dropped public Goat bombs, sentencing one to life as a silent animal… well, it was a severe penalty, but mute compliant adults were in high demand already. Whenever the Kennel announces a minor for sale, everyone knows the bidding goes insane. Even when it's a little shit like Danny Ferguson, though he was hardly the only one abusing the Goat word who paid for it.
It all got a little better, of course, when we found the secret to stopping the Goat word in its tracks, without leaving everything in the area soaked, and without relying on willpower for victims who didn't feel like victims, at least not enough to count on them leaving a boring social event that suddenly had turned into a fun party they wanted to participate in.
Silver was the secret. Specifically, silver bells. And more specifically, the sound from a handheld bell-with-clapper, made of silver, being rung. Why? I guess it's part of the post-hypnotic suggestion. Like the magic words themselves, people can be tricked with a really good imitation of a valid source. If they think it's silver but it's actually aluminum or whatever, that's often good enough (though most people think the sound is distinct enough that bells made of other metals don't actually work on them anymore). Even a recording might still snap someone out of whatever altered state the magic word put them in… but more likely it'll just cause them to look around, and if they don't see someone with a bell, they'll probably keep on with whatever orgy they were involved in. The very first thing we tried when we discovered this was putting the sound into the detection app, but all that did was warn people the word had been deployed, something that generally wasn't a mystery at that point.
Generally speaking, if someone believes it's anything other than an appropriate silver bell rung by an actual person, it doesn't work. Now if they think it is one, the sound snaps them out of any of the magic words instantly. Not the lingering effects like butt-pride or cum-tolerance, but the primary effect... the sound of the bell breaks through any trance or artificially imposed conditions that compromise a person's decision making skills. Even the original one… if a girl's got a cock in your mouth, which normally makes the trance state continue through anything short of acute distress, she'll awaken… and we have to train our Bellringers to be careful of waking people willy-nilly, if we don't want more Stitchcocks running around.
Bellringers are what we call the people who hold the bells, of course, ready to break up a trance if a magic word gets used in an inappropriate situation. Cops carry them too, and some people wear them on collars or pockets for personal protection, but for official Bellringers, we use people who aren't subject to the Goat magic word, so they can decide with a clear head whether things need to be stopped. Bellringers tend to be recruited from the too young, the too old, and even the deaf (although Miss Blum can't be broken out of her own trances). Maybe if you encounter one on the street you can bribe or entice them not to ring their bell and let whatever you have planned go on, but now the school day won't derailed by one student in every class thinking invoking the Goat is funny. At big public events, you try to use the Goat word and you'll get a dozen Bellringers jumping to their duty, although sometimes an orgy is planned and the duty is merely to wait until those involved are far enough along in the process that they'll all climax when the designated Bellringer starts ringing the bell. That's how it works, if an orgy's just starting, the artificial arousal abates quickly (if they're already horny for other reasons, it's no help to them), but if someone's at the point where the hypnotic effect is making them hold back from cumming, well, path of least resistance, you know? Bellringers at orgies are places of honor, another perk frequently bestowed to spelling bee winners, because where else are you going to make dozens of people orgasm at once?
It's amazing the power a silver bell can have, but what was even more amazing was the discovery that silver can also render you immune to the magic words entirely… at a cost. Remember when I mentioned girls getting tattoos and piercings while tranced? Those were thanks to Doug Spencer, local dirtbag and pedophile. I know, pretty rich referring to someone as a pedophile with what our town got up to, and hell, even with my own history, but I mean he was an abusive pedophile before pedophilia became easy. Obviously the magic words were a dream come true for him, but he wasn't satisfied with being able to turn virtually any target he wanted into a free use slut… Doug got offended at all the newcomers to his hobby, the ones who hadn't earned it by suffering the hatred and social disapproval. Not that he had either, except the secret, self-loathing kind that happened when people brought the topic of 'those people' up in mixed company. According to the manifesto he left behind, his thinking was, if pedophilia was becoming normalized--often not even punished--then what would mark out the really special girls, the ones real pedos used to carefully stalk and groom and change for life?
He came up with the idea of tattoos and piercings, which he secretly had a certification in. It was his vocation while he lived out of town before returning as the prodigal son to take care of his ailing father, and although he'd thought about opening a shop here, he'd never quite worked up the drive to take that step… until he had the idea of making it his signature, trance a girl, lead her somewhere private, and give her a tattoo, or piercings, or both so that even if the memories were repressed she'd be forever marked by her encounter with him, as he thought should be his right. They'd need time to heal, and, I imagine, he hoped they'd suffer shame every time they looked at themselves. See what I mean about him being a dirtbag?
We Kenneled him, of course, once we identified him as the culprit, despite him trying to offer as evidence his collection of videos of hashtagged girls that he convinced to get procedures done for a fun video, only they were footage he kept for the amusement of himself and his dad until we found him… normally we'd consider such videos proof of consent for sexual activity, but tattoos were too long lasting and even piercings seemed like too much of an indecent liberty to let slide. Besides, he marked more girls than he had videos for... some of his work was clearly done with just one hand on Dat Ass and another on his tattoo gun, or with something in their mouth to keep them docile while he penetrated them with metal.
Most of the piercings he forced on the girls were titanium, some stainless steel, there were even a few gold ones for his favorites, and nipples were by far the most common target--no surprise, considering how he obsessed over delicious flat chests in his manifesto--but some girls got them down below and one got a set of labial studs in silver. Why? You'd have to ask him, and he isn't able to speak or write intelligibly anymore so it might take a while to get an answer, if you can even find where we sold him. We just know he did it. Silver's not a good metal for piercing, particularly genitals, and especially not for a first timer who might not know how to take care of them right, but Kennedy got them.
And, it turned out, she became immune to the magic words soon after. Only we didn't know that for quite some time, because she still knelt and bent over when she heard the OG word, still was happy to do videos if someone said the hashtag word and suggested something fun. Maybe, some of us suspected, she was always immune to the words and was merely faking it the whole time out of some masochistic tendency, but Kennedy claims she really did fall for the magic words before the piercing, and after, she just had an urge for what she should be doing when she heard one... but it was an urge she could now resist easily.
Unfortunately, there was a downside, or a large chunk of our town would now have trouble with metal detectors. See, with the piercing in, Kennedy could still get aroused... even horny enough that it seriously impairs her judgment, and not from the words but just from being a horny teenager in a town like ours, a thoroughly natural arousal. However, though she can get dripping wet and so close to cumming that she can barely think clearly, she never seems to get over the top. I think that's part of the reason she voluntarily complied with the words she heard, because they turned her on and she liked dancing on the edge.
When this was discovered, Kennedy became our first semi-permanent Bellringer. We figured, if she can't ring her bell, at least she can ring other people's, you know? A couple others have joined her since, volunteers, at first to see if she was just a freak one-time exception or if this was a thing. They go through the piercing process (with a safer starter piercing) and switch to silver later on, and when they do, it's like a switch, when there's silver down there (and it has to be a piercing in the genital area), no forced magic words, but no orgasms either. It's like whoever did the brainwashing planned for this eventuality, that the hypnosis regimen we all went through includes this, as well as subconscious reminders to care for piercings, and healing with minimal discomfort. It really is amazing the amount of influence the mind can have over the body. And unlike the tattoos, the piercings are all removable, or replaceable with other metals, if desired, though this takes away the immunity. Most of the pierced Bellringers wear silver for a few weeks at a time before relenting and letting themselves cum, either alone or to join in on the big cathartic release of being horned up with your family or friends when the bell rings (you tourists can't understand, there's nothing quite like it), and others wear it on vacation so they don't have any embarrassing incidents in the outside world, but Kennedy refuses to use anything but silver, ever, so often we let her preside over our more hedonistic town events so she doesn't feel left out.
And she's not, if you're wondering... she's often a frequent target of goated townspeople who find the idea of being the one to break through the programming despite the piercings an irresistibly erotic idea. Sometimes we have to assign a backup Bellringer, just in case she's indisposed for too long and can't do her duty on schedule. Personally, I can't imagine what it'd be like to be that close to cumming so long and so often without getting some release. If you're worried, we have a doctor check her on a regular basis and will force her to remove the studs if it becomes a problem or she fails to maintain a C average in school (though of course, she's very popular with her teachers and her average might not be an accurate reflection of her level of comprehension of the material).
For the rest of us, though, having Bellringers and an immunity option has made a world of difference. Parents can send their kids to school with the assurance that their education won't be interrupted because one student is bored and thinks another orgy would be more fun than history class, or a twerp who just turned teen wants to torture a teacher with temptation they're still too young to taste. If they're particularly desperate to keep their kids safe from being talked or forced into a compromising position, they can just give them a little vaginal jewellery... though sometimes they find unresolved arousal puts the kidsin scenes that are just as lewd, with partners just as inappropriate. No longer does the business day have to temporarily stop because somebody walked in and used the word to make everybody too horny to work. And, perhaps most importantly for the town as a whole, women who were previously pushed out of the workplace--because nobody could afford to risk hiring a girl to run the cash register at one of our small shops, where there might be only one customer at a time and someone needy or unscrupulous could get her to drop to her knees and suck his cock or her cunt while the store was being robbed blind--could start to go back to work.
That last thing was particularly important for my friend Cookie. You might have seen me talking to her just before I sat down with you… her name's Kianna Cook, but has been Cookie ever since a substitute teacher read her name that way during roll call as a kid. Cookie and all the other waitresses at the diner across the street were all laid off for a long while because they were susceptible to the Dat-Ass-Dine-and-Dash scam, where patrons skip out on the cheque while their server feels an irresistible urge to pull up her diner uniform and show off her thong and tattoos. Some of the other employees had other jobs or family to support them but Cookie had worked at the diner since she was a teen, and without it, all she could do was try to make a hard living selling something too many younger girls were willing to give away.
I had to let her move in with me for a while, while she tried to get special permission for a non-firewalled OnlyFans going, since she could hardly compete with the local teens and preteens. We're very different people though, and it put a big strain on our friendship. At the diner she's tidy but at home she turns into a bit of a slob, while I like things neat, and sure, the on-demand oral service was fun and reduced the friction for a while, but she's not really my type, so I mostly only took advantage of that offer while drawing commissions or watching TikToks and to let her feel like less like a freeloader. Which was also okay... I'd have helped her even without oral. If we're not going to help each other when we're down on our luck, we might as well go live in the big city, you know? Still, we were both so glad when I told her Al agreed to hire her back, once they had bells in place or right away if Cookie was willing to accept a change to the diner uniform rules, and before long she could afford her own place again. Tha was a huge relief, especially since my fiancee is going to be moving in with me after the big day.
The cost of us suddenly putting silver bells everywhere probably raised the global value of the metal at least a dollar an ounce, but being able to have a balanced workforce again and let us more easily do all the jobs that needed doing was well worth the expense. It meant less stress for everyone and more time for fun town events, some of which needed Bellringers to protect the family friendly atmosphere we wanted, while others needed them to pop the cork when the event was over. Make the instructions clear beforehand was a lesson we learned early.
I just wish we had Bellringers before the Church orgy.
I haven't been back to Church since that day, the Sunday it first got goated. Maybe I will one of these Sundays. Communities need to bond in many different ways, and solemn reverent worship can be one of them. It's just that it's hard to look certain people in the eye after you do what I did and made a fool of myself.
See, this was when the Goat word was still pretty new. Sure, most of us had heard about the growing trend of class orgies, and what happened with the Hatch twins was good town gossip, but I hadn't been chosen for any of the inquests investigating Ms. Hendrix or the other cases, so I was an outsider. Maybe more of an outsider than most, having just returned from a family reunion out of town (it was actually more of a road trip, the reunion was just a handy excuse for the timing). I felt like an outsider at the reunion too, for keeping not just my usual raft of secrets (because nobody wants to hear that I don't need full time work, I tell most of my extended family I do commercial art... it's close enough to stuff I get paid for that I don't feel like it's that big a fib but it's rare it makes anyone curious enough to see examples) but also the new ones of our town, having to pretending everything was just totally normal and boring at home. Diverting them with stories of my road trip helped, if some of them hadn't taken place in other Phantom Towns and, thus, needed to be heavily censored themselves. By the time I'd gotten back home, I felt like I'd missed a lot even though I'd only been away two weeks.
Those of us relying on the rumor mill, we knew there was a new word, but not exactly all the particulars of it, like who was immune, who wasn't, and, most importantly, the twist that the victims wouldn't forget this time around had completely passed me by. So when Danny Ferguson stood up in his pew and shouted the Goat word, I didn't know what was happening, except that I did remember hearing him say the word itself. Yup. It turns out, despite my youthful appearance, I'm not enough of a teenager at heart to be goated... or at least, I wasn't back then. I've been trying to cultivate a spirit of whimsy, getting in touch with my inner child, and it helps if I've recently been able to touch a child's insides, but it's still about fifty-fifty on whether it works on me. But even if I'm not feeling as immature as I'd hope, that doesn't mean I can't join in the orgies, and that first one, when people started stripping and making out and masturbating in the pews while they looked around for something to satisfy the intense urges that had overcome them all, I didn't know what happened. I wasn't sure if I was one of the lucky one-to-five percent spared any given word, or if my time away had protected me, or if I really was affected and the effects were just kicking in slowly. For all I knew, I only consciously heard the word because I'd be guaranteed to lose my memory of it—and everything I did--when the effect ended. And I was horny. Having to play things straight at the reunion had taken its toll.
I'm hardly the only one who had regrets about what I did that day in church. Being goated doesn't remove jealousy or angry feelings, it's just if a guy sees his true love fucking somebody else it's almost always hot enough that if he's going to raise a fist it'll be to masturbate, but more likely he'll just angry-fuck somebody else to forget. The same genital burning programming that prevents actual rape means violence also almost never breaks out from a Goat word orgy... but that doesn't mean there won't be hurt feelings later, and I know there were a lot of those in the aftermath of that day. Despite this being a church, a lot of people immediately went outside of their marital vows when they saw their neighbor's ass that they'd been coveting.
And of course, for the kids under fourteen, they weren't affected, but they saw a vacation from the normal rules and when they realized what was going on many were happy to exploit it… a lot of them stripped faster than the goated, in fact, having access to a much better rumor mill of how the new word worked, and seeing an opportunity to get naked and have loads of fun with a bunch of adults around who were too horny to properly supervise, and who'd feel guilty enough to manipulate later. Kids really can be manipulative shits, and it was on full display there… phones were instantly whipped out, ready to film their parents and teachers and strangers fucking them or begging them to fuck. Just knowing they'd remember would give them leverage later... but having proof was good too. Other kids went around and took advantage of the chance to use various magic words on their own crushes while the people who would normally stop them were distracted (with mixed results, since the app alarms still kept going off, but none of the goated cared about them unless they were going to join in, and you could easily get those immune to the Goat word--but not the others—too far into a trance for the alarms to wake them anyway). Still, seeing the effect on adults had to be a treat, particularly all the ones they saw as hypocrites. Maybe they were. At the very least, a lot of people who'd previously kept their own perverted sides hidden, who'd been able to portray themselves as upstanding citizens living in danger of the words, exposed themselves as pedophiles, or into the sin of incest, or other embarrassing kinks, as their lusts took over and they directed their ungoated children into acts that they probably should have been a lot more reluctant to do if it wasn't already common behind closed doors.
Jeff wasn't one of those though. At least, he wasn't into the incest, though he did expose himself, in more ways than one, by going immediately for his daughter's best friend a few pews down, who wasn't naked when he started in that direction. That would soon change, as soon as he whispered something in the girl's ear. That something might have been the Nice Butt word but I can't confirm... either way he got her skirt down pretty quick for a girl under fourteen, looking at that nice butt while the girl's horny mother got down on her knees too, to spread her ass cheeks and beg Jeff to fuck a baby into her daughter. Which he wound up doing, as it turned out, or at least he was one of the contenders.
Now, if you'll remember, Jeff and his wife Mary were my two best friends at the time… and for most of our lives. In high school we were known as the three musketeers, because where one of us was, the other two weren't far behind. We even had one awkward threesome, long before the magic words, and before Mary decided to commit herself to Jeff and I settled for my ex, which was my biggest regret before then. Their getting together changed our dynamic, a little, but didn't erase our bond. We still played D&D together, Mary and I got together to bake for Church events or the pie-eating contest, Jeff and I liked to do rock-climbing walls, and if we didn't see each other enough from all that, we all went to dinner a few times a month, too. At Church, I sat with the family like we were all a polycule (we weren't, despite the rumors) and we all went to brunch after. At least we did if Mary didn't have choir practice. I encouraged her to try out, years ago, and she'd stuck with it… at least until Father Quinn left.
If I didn't already have reason to suspect their marriage was no longer as monogamous as they'd started out promising it would be, in church, I got proof. In fact, I got a good view of Jeff abandoning his family for a friend of his daughter, and of Mary bent over the back of the pew to stuff Charlie Miller's raging ten-incher down her throat while she rubbed her clit. So did Mary and Jeff's twelve-year-old daughter Tina, her widened eyes darting back and forth between the lewd scenes of her parents and, to me, looking abandoned and forlorn, but with her own hand working between the legs of her pretty church dress. The word didn't have her (not that I knew that for sure) but she was old enough to get horny and confused.
And the word didn't have me either, but I'm not a block of stone. I'd resisted for so long, having to endure watching Tina parade about at home in cute little thongs, and with all that was happening around me, I figured, 'What the fuck, this has to be that new magic word. No one will remember this anyway, maybe not even me,' so I figured I might as well slip, indulge in a secret fantasy of my own. I complimented Tina's dress and suggested if she wanted a better view, I could give her a boost... something I'd offered many times before. What was a first for me was suggesting she do it while sitting on my face and also telling her that I'd love to lick her little cunny underneath it while I gave her that boost. Yes, I said cunny. If what I did wasn't embarrassing enough, I'm sure she told all her friends how cringe I was too.
I'm also not proud of having a crush on a preteen girl, and the daughter of two of my best friends to boot, a girl who was basically my niece, was officially my goddaughter. I'd taken her to so many movies and amusement parks and the pool and never did so much as lay an inappropriate finger on her. Jeff and Mary trusted me with her like they would no one else, even after the magic words, though of course I'd never admitted I was in love with their daughter. I mean, I loved her since she was a born, or at least until she started to talk and became interesting, but I'd had what I'd describe as both romantic and sexual feelings for little Tina since she'd turned ten. It was my biggest source of shame, that I myself was the kind of pedophile we all pretended to be disgusted by. Arguably not a pedophile because it's just that my interest starts and maybe peaks before puberty, but I can get off to adults too. I still thought of myself as a pedophile. Though, of course, I thought of myself as a good pedophile, in control of my urges, and I never intended to actually do anything with Tina. To be totally truthful, I had been tempted to turn the magic words on Tina a time or two, but treasured our time together too much to taint it. It was an inappropriate crush, I've had them many times before without acting on them, would have them again... I just always had a thing for sweet little dark haired girls… wouldn't guess to look at me, would you?
But it's true, and what I thought made me a better class of pedophile was that I wasn't driven by a selfish urge to get off. My fantasies were just as often romantic rather than sexual, and when they went sexual it was always about giving the little girls pleasure. I've always been more of a watcher than anything else, I guess you could say I'm a voyeur at heart, or maybe I just found the best way to sublimate my darker urges was through harmless voyeurism. It's probably why I always volunteered for the inquests, tended to vote for leniency if nobody was hurt and they gave me a good show, but watching as many hashtag videos as I do, it's never been lost on me that the best place to watch a little girl getting her pussy licked is by looking up at her from between her legs, where you can watch every twitch and spasm up close and, if her damn church dress isn't in the way, look up to see her facial expressions too. Videos helped resist the urges but getting such a close up view of a bald pussy like that, not just a stranger but of someone I loved, watching my tongue make her writhe and wriggle and give cute little breathless moans, even if she didn't do anything for me in return, would make my year, and I guess I figured that in the kind of scene that was already developing all over the church, this was my chance to do it with complete deniability.
Of course, when my better judgment finally failed that day in church, when I told myself I wouldn't remember, Tina agreed pretty fast, so maybe she didn't have as much restraint on our alone times as I did. It also wound up being more of a 69 than the me-pleasuring-her experience I offered, not that I minded, and not that it really mattered. Even if everyone had lost their memories of the day, I'd still crossed the line and Jeff and Mary and everyone else would know it sooner or later. Especially because a few of the other kids filmed my humiliating fall.
I don't think Tina had any advanced warning of what was happening before the orgy started, despite the fact that there was no thong or anything else under that cute dress... I think that was just the level that her own ass-pride was at, rather than that she knew about Danny's plan. I couldn't say the same for many of the other under-14s who seemed suspiciously ready with cameras and to jump into their own sexual schemes... so I'm pretty sure Danny bragged about what he was going to do to others in school. I just have faith that Tina was being honest when she said that she didn't know.
While I was getting my fondest wish, I couldn't see much of anything beyond the underside of Tina's church dress and her sweet pussy by the light that made it through or around the fabric, but reviewing the video later I saw Mary stopping to watch me breaking her trust with a disapproving glare... one that only lasted long enough to get double-fucked beside us. Grudges don't last long under the Goat, but would no doubt return when she saw the video. And, most embarrassing of all, as I came, loudly, I asked that little kid, my goddaughter, my niece, with her beautiful cunny and wondrous tongue, to marry me. I know, ridiculous, but I'm not the only person to get stupid in the middle of orgasm.
But I did orgasm, which, to those who knew more about the Goat word than I did, marked me out as someone who wasn't under any influence, just doing it because I wanted to, and both it and my proposal were all caught on tape for anyone who wasn't close enough to hear it. I know I made a mistake. I could have gotten Kennelled for that mistake, too, if an inquest decided I was taking advantage of the situation. After all the people I helped send there (though, to be fair, most of them were the old small-K kennel, before the punishment included removing the vocal chords), it would serve me right. And can you imagine me never talking? You've just met me and I bet you can't.
Luckily, they gave blanket amnesty to everyone caught up in the GOAT Sunday service. Everyone who had sex with a minor was forgiven, even if the minor was prevented from saying no with magic words or a gag first. Obviously the kids who peed in the Holy Water basins for Jennifer to drink out of were too young to do more than give a talking to, even if a bold classmate of her sister's used the Nice Butt word and grabbed it to get off while she imbibed. Roberta using the boner stiffener on a bunch of thirteen-year-olds who were filming their parents probably saved a few people from blackmail, a distraction she tried to play off as planned, but it didn't really matter, both types of crimes were excused. So was the elementary school teacher who targeted the girls too young for the magic words but too old to be in the separate Children's Ministry room, offering a preview of what they'd start to do once their eight birthday began. He didn't use force and there were enough volunteers, so sure, why not? Even Sydney Carmichael, who didn't see anything in Church worth indulging in and wandered out through the doors to find something that would. The moment she crossed the threshold she was free of the Goat's influence but had enough natural horniness at what she realized was happening that she decided to take advantage of the distraction and got on her bike to explore her long held dream of fucking the statue of the town founder while cars drove by. It's visible from one of the few public roads still used by people driving by... you probably passed it on your way in, in fact. I don't know if you noticed, but there's a sword hilt that, from certain angles, looks like a penis, but the pedestal is hard to climb and the fact that passing visitors can see it meant that thus far it had always been off-limits to lewd stuff… but on that day Sydney mounted it and used the Goat word on herself so she could wave at every car that passed by. Who knows how many tourists saw a fourteen-year-old girl naked and eagerly riding the stone cock of a bigger-than-life historical figure? She used a condom, for smoothness, but anyone who took pictures would just see an underage slut or a town that had lost control of its kids. The latter was more serious. But Sydney's too-public desecration of our town founder, even though it was miles away from the church, was given amnesty too.
Pretty well everyone's sins were forgiven that day, like they were taking a page out of His playbook… all except Danny Ferguson. He was the one who kicked everything off and it wasn't his first public goat bomb, just the most dramatic. With that act, he had finally become enough of a problem that even Sheila agreed to making sure he couldn't use the words again, that a lesson needed to be sent to the rest of the kids so this sort of thing didn't happen all the time. Sheila takes care of two dogs now, though since Danny isn't talking and can't release any video to embarrass her now, we don't know if she lets the newer one fuck her. Though she is pregnant again, so maybe she's still gotten over that incest hangup, or decided human dogs don't count, or maybe she just started fucking Danny's old best friend, just to rub his nose in his mistake a little more while she tried again for a new son who she could watch graduate some day. I don't know. I know the business of a lot of people in this town, but not everyone's.
My point is sometimes relationships change, even relationships with someone you've known all your life. The local law may have forgiven us, but nobody forced our friends and neighbors to forget, and 69ing your friends daughter, the one you've always been trusted with, is not something a lot of parents will forgive or forget, and that's why it's been so hard to for me to show my face back at church. Jeff and Mary say they've forgiven me, even let me see their daughter Tina (for now, as long as it's supervised until the big day), but our friendship's not like it used to be. The D&D group hasn't met since that day, and I can't really sit in the pews without thinking about what we all did there. I'm not the only one. A lot of formerly regular churchgoers didn't return after the Goat incident. For a variety of reasons.
With me though, there's one thing I want to make clear… it's not that I've lost my faith or anything. In fact, our new pastor has done a lot to help with that, for those that needed help coming to grips with the magic words, and their implications. You know, I wasn't the only one who sometimes questioned what kind of just deity would allow this sort of thing. As much as I was personally fond of him, Father Quinn never really could cope with questions like that very well, mostly relying on the old 'mysterious ways' standby. Father Wharton has had ready answers… of course, he said he was trained for cases like our town when he did his education at the Reliquary.
No, pretty sure he said Reliquary, I believe it's like Seminary but an advanced class for the real prodigies. Anyway, he said that God loves all of us, even the sinners… which, Father Quinn tried too, it just didn't sound as convincing coming from him, but Father Wharton's point was that He needs the sinners even more, to accomplish His plans, and that He made us this way and loves us for ourselves, not despite ourselves. Every kingdom has rules that apply to most of the people but not everyone, and God's is no exception, and that just as some people needed to be led by a king or president and not be kings themselves, there were those whose bodies needed to be used and a perfect universe needed people to take advantage of them so they could be fulfilled.
This tracked with the fundamental problem of our town, the one that caused so many crises of faith and probably so many slips down the slippery slope towards how we live now. Because we spent a lot of time and effort to try and 'fix' our problem. We consulted hypnotherapists, albeit secretly and usually without informing them of the full scope of the problem. Once the government got involved, they gave us the best with a promise of discretion, so we opened up a little more. Pretty much every single one of them agreed on one thing… well, except one conspiracy crank who believed certain shadowy groups had unlocked true mass brainwashing, but he could neither undo any of the programming nor prove anything nor demonstrate anything long-term himself (and I don't know, maybe he was onto something since we did use some of his theories, refined and adapted, in the Kennels). Even he insisted it needed extensive isolation and sensory deprivation, at least a day or two for each person, either individually or all together, and that there was probably no way to do it to an unsuspecting population like ours without somebody noticing a big chunk of missing time or people going missing for long periods. Also, we'd all have to be highly susceptible to hypnosis, something most studies say is only true for about ten percent of the population.
Still, assume that was true of our entire population, by some statistical quirk. If Dennis the dentist was really behind this (and again, I don't think he was, but just as an example), he might have been able to put everyone that sat down for him into a deep post-hypnotic state... but only to a certain degree. Because fundamentally, everyone agreed, one rule was solid: you really can't hypnotize anyone into doing something that they didn't already want to do, on some level. That sort of thing's mostly Hollywood myth. You can easily hypnotize someone into stopping smoking because they want to give up smoking. You might be able to put someone into a trance and convince them into stripping on stage if they were already a stripper or had a secret exhibitionist streak, but if they were truly morally opposed to public exposure you couldn't get them to do it. Maybe you could play with their sense of reality a little, convince them that they were alone and about to take a shower, but most likely, some part of their mind would know the truth and reject even the hypnotic fantasy. And, of course, you couldn't mesmerize somebody into murdering a stranger, or molesting a child, or changing their sexuality, not unless they already had inclinations in that direction. If they did, sure, a good hypnotist might be able to provoke them to act on it when they might otherwise restrain themselves, but not if it's something completely against their nature. Well, some conceded maybe you could do something like that very gradually, over the course of years, one step at a time, by implanting suggestions they agreed with, a little more self confidence here, a little less worrying about what other people think there, but each step would have to be voluntary. And there's some evidence you could break someone down completely with psychadelic drugs and sleep deprivation and targetted insights into their fd, rewrite their personality and give them a custom-built one... some of the people we consulted, including our conspiracy nut, allowed that that was possible, especially with kids, if you could hold them for weeks or months and were willing to risk a large number of them just being destroyed by the experience, but again, just the attempt would be obvious, and who had that kind of time anyway?
Our situation, with us all suddenly discovering a bunch of hidden commands we weren't aware of that could be triggered at will? Just couldn't happen… not unless it was for things we all wanted to do. Bayport, they insisted, with its supposed Slutmaker and the middle school Fucktakers conditioned to never tell, really was a hoax, or at least a hoax that became real because the town decided to play along.
The logical conclusion to that line of thought is that our town has, in a way, also been playing along, that the people here wanted to give in to the magic words. And, the evidence of the Hashtag magic word--and, eventually, what people do when they get goated--bore that out. Under those words, they lose some of their inhibitions but only do the kinds of things that already excite them, nothing that really disgusts them. As for the OG magic word, the Nice Butt word, and the boner stiffener… well, you don't need any deep psychological analysis to explain guys wanting to get hard and have an excuse for someone else to handle it, but for the first two words, with the women (and those exceptions among the men who succumbed), it could only mean they want to be in that position. They might not have specifically and consciously wanted every cock that got put in their mouths or to buck back against any stimulation if their ass was grabbed, but on a fundamental level, they wanted to submit, to not have to choose, to give up their consent and just… be used, like a convenient hole. So maybe that's why the magic words still work, because they give us the excuse to do what we want, both to use and sometimes be used, like a piece of meat. Some people, to be their authentic selves, need that opportunity, sometimes… even girls as young as eight, as hard as it is to accept.
Now, I'm not saying this is some fundamental property of men vs women, like all women have a subconscious need to be a free-use fucktoy. That's ridiculous, and sexist besides. Maybe there's a higher proportion of this urge among women then men, whether from inborn nature or cultural conditioning, but I'm not even sure I'd go that far. Even if it was true, people are different enough that you can't generalize like that… so don't you dare use what I'm saying here as justification to ignore a person's consent in the outside world, particularly a child.
All I'm saying is that most of the women and children of our town DO have this need, so, here, it's somewhat okay. There are other places, other autonomous zones where women are more dominant… we do good business selling them some of our Kennel graduates. For us, though, most of the women here like to kneel, to be be perverted without having to take responsibility. Father Wharton said that God does this sometimes, He brings like-minded people together into small communities, like ours, makes sure our children share the same traits… we're the exceptions, and letting us group together lets us be exceptional in our special way, and not disturb any of the normal sheep of the flock. And, sometimes, those normal sheep need a vacation from their usual flocking and have an experience to satisfy some deep need in themselves, too, and God lets them find their way here to flock with us for a short time. Maybe that's you. I don't know.
Divine providence doesn't rob anyone of their free will, after all, people can still be hurt and choose to hurt, and even in towns like ours, some people go too far, cross lines, and we still have our inquests, and our laws now let us dish out justice our way, enforce them without fear, including Kenneling offenders if necessary. God gave us our own consciences, too, so we use them when we're asked to decide if someone's gone too far to be forgiven. I hope that's not going to be you, but that's in your own hands.
But, hey, now that you're here, you might as well stay long enough to find out. I think Heather's got some free rooms. Not free as in beer, I mean, but there's usually a few extra now that she started renting out her daughter's old rooms. No, not like that, or at least it doesn't have to be like that… now they usually stay in one big bedroom together, which is up for renting as well but I'm pretty sure that's already booked up and probably out of your price range if you came here accidentally and didn't budget for it. However, if you just need a single bed for the night, with no guests, her rates are pretty reasonable... just watch out for her blackmail traps. If you stay a while, you can look around our town for yourself, make up your own mind about us. It's not all debauchery.
Really, when you get right down to it, aside from a few twists, our town's a normal town, and if you're not into kinky stuff, there are plenty of small town things to enjoy. We still have hay rides and watch cherry blossoms bloom in spring and we have one of our pie-eating contests coming up in a few days. Okay, I suppose our pie-eating contests have changed a lot since the magic words started, and aren't really a good example of non-kinky activities. They usual share space with the load-swallowing contests. The rules are normally the same in each, although this time around we're doing a variation on the pie-eating, where we favor quality over quantity and have our Bellringer Kennedy judge entrants on skill, enthusiasm, and endurance. The competitions aren't open to tourists, but you can watch. I will be, because my fiancee is competing in the minors bracket… and no, I'm not jealous, it's going to be an open marriage anyway--on Tina's end at least--and she's been practicing her heart out after school for weeks, so I'm rooting for her. Her only weak spot is endurance… contestants are allowed to take just one breath before they start and her little lungs just can't hold much. Still, her confidence is adorable… she even thinks she might make Kennedy cum, a feat that's still not been achieved by anybody. The closest was when...
Sorry I have been going on a bit. Here I am, just talking your ear off. It's because of that traffic camera. I'm hashtagged right now, if you haven't guessed. Cookie spotted you from the diner window, thought it'd be funny if she walked me over here on her break so I could greet you, give you the lowdown, and watch all your reactions to all this. That is, if you haven't come here specifically because you've heard stories. If you have, you're pretty good at pretending, and that'll serve you well.
And no, even though I'm hashtagged, I'm not going to tell you any of the magic words myself. I don't think it'd make a good show, and I can keep a secret. Besides, I've given you enough clues to find them out without me. Our town might not be the most virtuous there is, but one of our virtues is our vocabulary, and if you need to ask, maybe you don't belong here after all. If you can't figure it out, maybe you can find someone else who'll take pity on you. Or browse the local tab of TikTok or OnlyFans that's probably showed up on your phone by now. Or just wander around hoping to spot one of the underage girls who have them tattooed on their bodies in visible places. See… that asshole Doug Spencer thought it'd be hilarious to 'ruin' a few girls for life, make it so they carry a tramp stamp or chest tatt of one of the words, so even If they move away from town, any stranger could still read it out loud and put them on their knees if they don't dress modestly. But he's not laughing now, is he? And modesty is NOT one of our town's virtues anymore.
No sense, considering one word can still turn even an eight-year-old into a willing cocksleeve or cuntslave in public. Yes, still. We never did find out who started the brainwashing, or how they're doing it, but he must still be active somehow, because it still hits like clockwork on a girl's eighth birthday, and they start succumbing to the Goat word at fourteen, able to be turned into sex-crazed horndogs chasing only sexual pleasure. Like the rest of us. Even people who move here... after a few months, they start to respond to the words, too, so maybe it's some kind of, like, subliminal sound rather than a person who runs around and manages to get alone time with everybody. Of course, there's always been people who could resist, and the newcomers who choose to move here do so because they know how we operate and they like it, so I guess it's possible they're just faking it. Maybe the young kids do too, learn to follow what their friends and family are doing rather than raising a fuss and missing out on having some fun they don't have to accept responsibility for. Given a few generations, we might not even need hypnosis, this behavior will just be town tradition that's been bred into us like instinct.
But I will give you one warning… I didn't tell the whole story when I said our hypnotherapists haven't been able to help. There has been some success in one particular area. In the old days, every use of the magic words, aside from the GOAT, was forgotten by the victim afterwards. That's no longer the case, at least not universally. I think it goes back to the whole rules of hypnotism, how it can't force you to do what you want. Deep down, we may not want to resist the commands, but since the secret of the magic words came out into the open, and we incorporated them into our daily lives, a lot of us changed our minds and actually want to remember being used.
Not everyone. Jennifer still shows up to class a couple times a month smelling of piss (to the people who still find that a smell worthy of notice) and acts astounded that it happened again, though she's all smiles in the video whenever the video gets posted and always wants us to show them at the town meeting, so we know that's what she wants. Pretending to be surprised and outraged is all part of her kink, I think. It's not a very good act, since in addition to wanting everyone see her watersports videos, she also proudly shows off her paw tattoo, and she should be proud because she's one of the few who has it without being a member of the Therian club, but that's just because dogs smell a place to pee when they encounter one, and Roberta doesn't want Loki lifting a leg and peeing all over the library floor, so Jennifer's not allowed in the club despite the permission form (and as someone who's often there to draw fursonas, I thank her for that decision). Still, Myra arranged a private tattoo for her service to Loki and other dogs in the neighborhood. Kinda funny she's not in the club though, she walks around naked in a collar and leash more than any of them outside of casual Fridays and I hear she's applied to be allowed to wear only that in school next year. I think her real goal is to be designated as the classroom urinal, I hear one class has already done that informally.
But Jennifer's one of the exceptions. There are more, but you're never going to know exactly who, and who will take offense to you behaving like some of the tourists we've had before you. Sure we may have a lot of kinky fucks in town but that doesn't mean this place is the same kind of consequence-free wonderland for abusers it used to be. Many of us still have instincts to submit and obey or follow our dirtiest urges, but we're not defenseless, and sure, everyone can be used, but everyone looks out for each other too. And the kids, especially, we make sure they know that if some tourist comes and tries to exploit their submissive instincts and treats them poorly, they only need to find a trusted adult and point the bastard out. The town may still depend on the tourist industry, but we take care of our own and we could always use a new guest in our Kennels.
What I'm saying is, we're not willing to continue being exploited by tourists. Or at least, not without our awareness and maybe compensation. Asking's fine, we might be into it, and some don't need you to ask, but if you take unfair advantage, or god forbid hurt one of us, rest assured we'll find out sooner or later. There are cameras and Bellringers and alarm apps and dogs, and a few people who are immune, some of whom might play along until you get their pants down and see the signature shine of silver, and all of them are able to make you regret it if you use the words while only thinking about your own needs. You can't claim you said them by accident, either, since I've just told you about what the words do and how they work, and I'll testify to that at an inquest.
So if you're not as innocent as you claimed, if you came in search of our town in the hopes of winding up at Heather Appleseth's Bed and Breakfast, to try out the unresisting bodies of her daughters in an unguarded moment, or her neighbors, or try and start a teen orgy at the high school, I advise you not to be an asshole about it and try to get something past any of us, even if you manage to catch a girl alone. Trying your luck in the street is fine... if you're outdoors but not many people are around there's a good chance she let you corner her, but leave her with some money anyway. In public, don't use a word that'll affect a lot of people unless you're sure it's okay. And in private homes and businesses, always ask first. Even at the B&B. Heather knows what you really want, that you aren't there for the bedding and the view of the old Cherry Tree out the window, and she's not at all opposed to indulging her customers, if they ask nicely, are polite about it, pay up front, and aren't too concerned about the lack of cherries. A lot of the other folks in town are the same way. Treat 'em carefully, make it worth their time, play to their tastes and fetishes if you can figure them out--I've certainly given you enough to get started--but remember that, despite all the kink, we're still a small town with small town values. And the most important magic words here are still 'please' and 'thank you.'
The End
"CAUTION: Exercise caution and good sense before engaging in unsafe sex practices that involve any exchange of body fluid, even contact with open sores or small cuts. Scenes involving large objects, tattoos, bestial sex, body waste ingestion, bindings, devices and gadgets are the stuff of fantasy and are offered to promote the only safe sex there is - masturbation. Before you try anything, find out what the risks and hazards are because they can all be deadly. Read, enjoy, and remember - sex with minors should be left to other minors." - Phil Phantom
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This story is free to share and distribute so long as no money is charged.
The characters Frank and Evelyn are used courtesy of Danaume, from her story Project Reliquary.
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