Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Lucky Day (Part 3) (Patreon)

The last shot threw Buffy back and she was simply too dazed and tired to catch herself. She banged off the alley wall then fell flat on her face.

“UNH!” she landed amongst garbage and dirt, her cheek bouncing off the rough, paved ground of the alleyway.

And this time she didn’t even try to get up.

Flat on her stomach, her body aching and shoulders heaving, Buffy gave into the urge to rest. She closed her eyes, too tired even to cry.

Butt kickings came with the slayer territory sometimes. There was always some creature with a new trick she hadn’t seen before, or maybe someone just really tough, and she had to take some licks before she could figure out how to beat them. But she’d never, ever, been so completely and thoroughly beaten as she was right now. Her opponent was playing with her, hitting her whenever and however they wished. There was no point in even trying anymore; she was being defeated with laughable ease.

HAD been defeated with laughable ease. She had nothing left to give and she was too exhausted to care. This little patch of pavement is where this fight ended.

Her vanquisher strode towards her. With her ear so close to the ground, Buffy heard every crunch of their shoes on the grit. Once they reached her, they stopped, looming over her thoughtfully.

Panting weakly, Buffy cracked her eyes open to stare at the thick-soled black boots. They were glossy leather, punkish with several unnecessary silver buckles, partially hidden under the legs of the snakeskin pants their owner favored.

The person that had beaten her, a girl Buffy’s age, remained uncharacteristically quiet for a few seconds. She seemed to be regarding the exhausted blonde, maybe thinking about what to do to her next, or simply waiting to see if she would get up.

Buffy stayed down. She let this girl decide what happened to her. She was done.

After several seconds, the girl grunted, disappointment mixed with grudging agreement.

“Had enough, huh B?” Faith shrugged, “Yeah, I think that’s the right call.”

Buffy coughed faintly. She stared with heavy eyes at the other girl’s boots.

One of the boots raised, then planted on the beaten slayer’s blonde head, pushing her cheek into the concrete.

“I didn’t think I could get bored of kicking your ass,” Faith rested her hands on her hips, smirking at the girl underfoot, “But when it’s so easy… just loses some of the flavor, ya know?”

She leaned forward, putting more weight on her foot. She couldn’t help but be a sadist, even if her rival was helpless. Especially if her rival was helpless.

Buffy winced but was too tired to cry out. A strange sense of detachment had settled over her, like the numbness that came after the death of a close friend. Disbelief that this was happening, a low, despairing heartbreak. But what had died wasn’t a friend or loved one, but her confidence and her self-respect. It had broken her and only when it started to heal would it hurt.

Faith stepped off Buffy’s head, then reached down to take a handful of blonde hair.

“I guess we finally know whos’ better, huh?” she said, tugging up on her new handhold, “Not that there was ever any doubt…”

“Unh… ooooh…” Buffy whimpered as she was drawn off the pavement.

“You just don’t have that deep down killer in you,” Faith sneered at her, “Not where it counts.”

Buffy let out more self-pitying moans as she was drawn upright. She would have much rather remained at the other girl’s feet, but Faith was more than capable of lifting her off the ground by her hair if she wanted. With no other option, Buffy had to help, using her trembling legs to at least support herself.

“Doesn’t matter how much you train,” Faith stood her rival up in front of her, “You can’t get it if you don’t already have it. Sorry, B.”

She gave another pull on her former friend’s hair and Buffy stumbled towards her, bumping chest to chest.

“And that’s why I own you.” Faith trilled, a wicked twinkle in her eye.

The taunts drew no expression from Buffy. The fact that she’d been utterly beaten wasn’t up for debate, neither was the fact that Faith owned her. The only emotion on her pretty features was weary resignation, that and a tiny sliver of fear that kept her looking back into the other girl’s eyes. Her fate was in her enemy’s hands, and she accepted it, but dreaded what it would be.

Staring into Buffy’s soft, pliable green eyes made Faith’s look sharpen. There was always something wild about the dark slayer, free and uninhibited, but beneath it was something dangerous. Now the predator within her showed itself, hungry, eyes narrowed with dark intent while a cruel grin stretched her lips.

She pulled Buffy even closer, their breasts pressing together, noses almost touching.

“Tell me who’s the best, Summers,” she whispered, “Tell me who the real slayer is.”

Fear made Buffy’s heart flutter. She recognized the deadly tone in Faith’s voice, and it would have been something she could normally face down, but now, defenseless and broken, she cowered before its intensity. She was still too hollowed out and tired to be terrified, but her eyes widened just enough to make her seem more awake, her brow furrowing with distress.

There was no other answer she could give. It was true and she no longer had the strength or will to deny it. She coughed weakly before she answered in a small, rough voice.

“You… you’re the best…” Buffy whimpered, “You’re the… real slayer…”

At those words, Faith’s eyes widened with insane glee, the whites showing all around them. It was the same triumphant look she had the moment before she plunged her dagger into someone’s heart. This time, however, there was no knife.

She lunged in with a growl and forced her mouth to her beaten victim’s, taking it like she was trying to swallow her whole. Her tongue plunged deep and tangled, while her free hand moved around to capture and squeeze Buffy’s butt with the same possessive fervor. She pushed Buffy’s hips tight to hers, tasting her with teeth gnashing violence.

This was it. Faith had her now. She was nothing but game to the other slayer’s hunter.

Their lips smacked loudly as Faith dug her way in, her breathing feverish and rasping through her nose. There was no love or affection in the kiss, only domination, taking what was hers. She made a low, animal sound and took Buffy’s bottom lip in her teeth, biting it firmly and tugging before letting it pop back and plunging back in. As her palm and thumb squeezed, her fingers dug into the seat of Buffy’s pants, into the cleft that separated the two cheeks. She took a firm grip and squeezed again, invading, claiming, trying to draw a reaction that she could force down.

“Lk… Nnk…” Buffy occasionally choked as Faith’s tongue triggered her gag reflex, but that was the epitome of her resistance. Her arms hung at her sides, allowing her body to be claimed, melting into the dominating grasp. Any momentary surprise faded from her expression and her eyelids drooped, going limp as she submitted.

As the kiss continued and Buffy’s surrender became complete, Faith’s initial aggression faded. Her pace slowed, frenzied burrowing into the unresisting mouth becoming the feeling of soft lips, capturing gently, suckling, nuzzling with her nose. She massaged Buffy’s captured bottom, kneading, relishing the pert but cooperative globe. She had proven dominant, ran her prey down, and now she was enjoying her meal.

Buffy’s fear faded and shame took its place. She had let Faith take what she wanted and she knew she would continue to do so. Even through her numbness, a blush came to her cheeks. Faith owned her literally now.

Then Buffy closed her eyes. She let go entirely, releasing not only her resistance but the idea of resistance. In that moment, she truly, completely surrendered.

And suddenly, it ended.

---------

“Holy shit!” Al giggled, “That one was fucking HOT!”

Buffy blinked and looked around, completely disoriented. She was no longer in the alleyway, no longer being gripped by Faith, no longer even beaten and bruised. Instead, she was in what looked like a nerd’s basement paradise, posters of hot babes from video games and comic books on the walls, a massive tv screen, and well-worn sofa being the highlights of the decor.

Bewildered to the point of feeling physically dizzy, she gaped around in astonishment. The immediate transformation of not only her surroundings, but her position and clothing was overwhelming. She had no idea how she’d gotten here, what had just happened, or even if any of it was real. Yet she had the nagging sensation that she SHOULD know.

“Yeah?” Henry said, carrying stacked boxes into the room, “What happened?”

“Well, she was fighting the evil slayer and the illusion made it no matter what she did, she lost!” Al explained, “So she TOTALLY got her ass kicked! Other girl was laughing, smacked her ass a few times, kept fighting her until she got her with this excellent kick! Then Buffy fell down and other girl came over…”

As the boy continued to describe Buffy’s humiliating ordeal, she shook her head, her mind struggling to catch up.

There were three boys around her who she knew from school, Dylan, Al, and Henry. They were the worst kinds of nerds, pervy, angsty, smart enough to be annoying, with extreme senses of entitlement. Right now, all three of them surrounded her, working on what looked like various occult/mad science projects.

“What… the…?!” Buffy mumbled, her brain feeling like mush.

“… then she started squeezing Buffy’s ass and Buffy just let her!” Al giggled again, “She seemed like she kinda liked it!”

Henry giggled as well, setting the boxes down and beginning to go through them.

The basement was roomy and the boys each had their own little area. Al was leaning over what looked like a crystal ball mixed with a fancy Ouija set, wearing cheesy wizard’s robes and surrounded by lit candles. Al was digging out more magical and sciency widgets from their boxes, setting them aside on a folded sheet, like he was preparing an equipment inspection. Last but not least Dylan, the creepiest one and the sort-of leader, was sitting at a work bench, tweaking at what looked like a fancy head massager with a screwdriver.

“Hey…” Buffy tried to get up.

She stayed in place. She was sitting in an expensive gamer’s chair, tape looped around her chest to hug her to its back. Her wrists were likewise taped to the arms of the chair, her ankles to its post at its base, while its wheels were taped to the floor so she couldn’t roll around. The setup looked extremely flimsy, particularly against someone with slayer strength, but somehow she hadn’t been able to free herself.

Things were starting to come back to her.

Normally the boys were just annoying. They showed up, said something melodramatic and vaguely creepy, then their plan abjectly failed and they ran away. At most they managed to distract her, maybe successfully hit her with an attack as potent as getting a static shock from touching a doorknob. But tonight, she’d woken up captured in their basement and she’d had a humiliating lack of success at escaping.

Even more humiliating was at some point they’d stripped her to her bra and underwear.

“Hey!” she flushed, “You creepy--!”

While Al continued to go into more detail of the illusory encounter with Faith, Buffy jerked at her bonds with a will. They were only duct tape, but the boys had written some sort of sigils on them in marker. When she put her slayer strength to the tape, easily yanking with enough force to rip it in half, the sigils glowed red and suddenly the tape might as well have been six inches of steel.

Regardless, she continued to strain, thrusting her chest out, her fists trembling with effort. It was just tape, for crying out loud!

More aggravating than the tape were the illusions they kept putting her through. Now that her wits were returning, she remembered dozens of episodes similar to the one with Faith. She was always put in an unwinnable situation, where no matter how hard she fought she suffered humiliating defeat after defeat, until there was nothing left to do but give up. Sometimes they were with Faith, sometimes an unstoppable vampire or monster, there had even been on where she was spanked by Principal Snyder. Each one felt completely real and was encapsulated on its own; she never remembered the rest until she was freed from the illusory spell.

Buffy gave up trying to break the tape and pulled back with her arms, trying to squeeze out of it. The sigils lit up red once more and her wrists stayed exactly where they were.

It wasn’t just the humiliating content of the illusions that upset her. These guys were geeks, entitled little boys with warped senses of reality that were pretending to be comic book characters. There was no way they could be a threat to her with her training and powers; she fought actual monsters every day! Yet these illusions were surprisingly effective, even frighteningly so.

And she couldn’t get out of this freaking tape!

“You disgusting, pathetic little CREEPS!” she finally shrieked.

The boys just laughed and continued their projects.

Blushing pink, Buffy bucked in the chair, ignoring how the effort made her breasts bounce in her gleaming black bra. She shook her head in pure fury, tossing her blonde hair and threatening to pull it out of its bun. The supernatural power in her nubile body should have thrown the chair over, if not simply shaken it apart, but the characters on the various strips of tape glowed cheerily and nothing budged.

She was trapped. These dweebs had actually manage to trap her and… and undress her!

“I swear to god!” she screamed, “You nasty freaking perverts! When I get out of this, I’m going to SO beat the sweet bejesus SHIT out of you!”

The boys only laughed again. Al continued moving clay tiles around on the Ouija board, Henry polished an antique mirror with his elbow, and Dylan made careful adjustments to his mad science helmet. At first, they’d been a bit worried when she’d threatened, but after putting her through numerous illusion spells and seen her struggle fruitlessly afterwards, it was just funny to hear such a furious, indignant tone from the normally wry, sarcastic slayer.

“Laugh it up, you geeks!” Buffy snapped, “See how funny it is when I’m shoving this chair down your throats!”

She got no response. The boys acted like they hadn’t even heard her.

“Hey, upvote time!” Dylan called out, “Your favorite Buffy illusion so far! Al, go!”

“Heh, my favorite is the one where she got spanked into submission by Principal Snyder!” Al replied, “The look on her face when her yanked her skirt up… classic.”

“Hey, are you saving those?!” Henry perked up, “I haven’t gotten to watch any of them yet!”

“Yeah, hang on. I’ll just email the mp4’s of these brain altering illusion spells to your laptop.”

Henry smiled, opening his mouth to thank him, then stopped.

“Wait, are you joking?”

“YES! It’s a crystal ball, not an Ipad!”

Buffy seethed, lips pinched into a thin, white line, her eyes blazing. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so embarrassed, or angry. It was one thing to be captured, another to be stripped and tied to a chair by pervy boys, and still another to be made to live out dozens of gut-wrenchingly humiliating scenarios one after the other. And now they were ignoring her!

“Guys, guys, you’re looking at this all wrong!” Dylan piped up, “Once we have her brainwashed, we can make her play out any scenarios we want! We could even go through the spells again or Henry, you could play Principal Snyder!”

“Can both of us be in the illusion at the same time?” Henry asked, “That would be bad ass!”

Al tilted his head and squinted at the ceiling, “Hmmm… maybe. Actually, yeah! With more time to set the conjuration, there’s lots of stuff I can do!”

While the boys excitedly discussed their options as they worked, Buffy forced herself to take a deep breath. Yelling at these geeks clearly wasn’t working and neither was breaking out of this magicked tape, as annoying as that was. She didn’t know how long she had before they sent her mind off to illusion land again and when they did it would be the same story all over again. She had to figure a way out of this and do it quickly.

Biting her lip, she looked the boys over, considering. She knew they had fragile boy egos and she could use that to her advantage. Picking out the one at the crystal ball/Ouija board, she drew in another deep breath, trying to clear any trembles of anger and humiliation out of her voice.

It was time to make these geeks squirm for a change.

“Hey!” she snapped, “You! By the Satan Summoning home game! Let me up! Now!”

Al shared a quick look with Henry, then laughed nervously.

“Uh… no?” he sniggered, “We captured you, so… no. You’re going to stay right there until we’re done hypnotizing you.”

“Y-yeah!” Henry added, “We’ve been planning this for months!”

“And it worked this time!”

As the boys shared another painfully self-conscious giggle, Buffy leaned her head back and rolled her eyes.

“Seriously! Nerds!” she exclaimed, jerking her shoulders for emphasis, “I’m done playing!”

“Yeah, well, we’re done playing too!” Al fired back, “What are you going to do, beat us up?! Good luck with that! Those are twelfth level magic seals!”

Henry swallowed, shifting uncomfortably, “Just put another illusion spell on her, Al.”

But Al was angered by being called a nerd. He glared at the bound slayer, swallowing to build up his courage.

“Seriously, blondie,” he sneered, “Do you think we’re scared of you right now? You lost and we won. Hope you enjoyed your free will, cuz from now on you’re going to be our sex bunny!”

Buffy gave him a flat look, her eyelids drooping in bored disdain.

“Really? Do you REALLY think that’s what’s going to happen here?”

Al blinked, unprepared for that response, “uh… yeah, duh…”

“You’re going to hypnotize me?” Buffy raised an eyebrow, “Then you’re going to let me up and, what, I’m going to be all over you, the end?”

Al and Henry looked at each other. Now that they were hearing it out loud, it did sound a little far-fetched.

“This isn’t a comic book or a tv show you guys obsess over,” Buffy nodded her head towards a poster, “I’m not Barbarella, Al. I’m a slayer. I kill bad guys.”

That wasn’t necessarily true, actually. She killed demons and vampires, not people, no matter how gross and pervy. But they didn’t have to know that.

“So far, you guys have just been pathetic and creepery,” she said, “But right now you’re seriously creepering your way into bad guy territory. That’s when I stop being nice.”

Al tried to glare back, but he swallowed again. Henry was not nearly as good at hiding his emotions.

“J-just…” the chubby boy cleared his throat, “Just put another spell on her, Al.”

“I’m not kidding, Al,” Buffy growled, “Do that to me again and I swear to god, when I get out of this, I’m going to turn your little man-boy cave into freaking Sarajevo. THEN I’m going to call the cops on you guys for kidnapping.”

That gave the boys pause. They looked at each other. Henry began to shrink where he stood, while Al’s eyes flicked to the door, like he was considering making a run for it.

Buffy wasn’t ashamed to admit it gave her no small amount of satisfaction. Served them right for capturing her and… other things.

“How do you bad ass super villains think you’ll do in jail?” she smirked, “I’m sure Marko the cell mate will love to hear all about your favorite comic books.”

“Uh…” Al looked toward the third member of their group, “Dylan…?”

Dylan set down the screwdriver and slapped a panel closed on his head massager-looking device. He stood up and carried it towards Buffy’s chair from behind.

Buffy ignored him. She almost had the other two geeks running for their lives.

“After the five bazillion and a half other gizmos you guys have tried,” she drawled, “You’re betting ALL that on this being the one that works. Yeah. You guys are definitely not going to regret this.”

Stopping behind her chair, Dylan reached down to cup under her chin, trying to hold her still so he could put the helmet on her.

Buffy jerked away.

“Don’t touch me!” she glared over her shoulder at him, “YOU won’t even go to jail! You’ll go to the hospital first, after I break your legs!”

Dylan just smirked, “Yeah, yeah. Hold still, sugar tits. Let’s see how this fits.”

He reached for her jaw again and she turned her face the other way, then back when he reached for her again. After several renditions of this, he finally managed to grab her chin, but her neck alone was far stronger than his arm; she jerked free so violently he almost lost his balance.

“Get AWAY from me!” she snapped.

Sighing, Dylan rested the helmet on the back of the seat and looked past her to his friends.

“Guys, come here and hold her head so I can get the helmet on.”

Neither of them moved. Al squirmed in his seat, while Henry was pulling nervously at his finger, like he had sudden stage fright. They looked at each other.

“U-uh…” Al swallowed.

“Guys!” Dylan said, louder, “Come on!”

Buffy gave the pair a level look. She still wanted to kick them in the junk, but it hadn’t taken her long to figure out they didn’t have the guts to implement this plan.

“Guys, I’m being real now,” she said, “This guy is NOT your friend. He’s going to get you in serious, legit trouble. Walk away.”

Al and Henry shared another look. Henry even took a small step back.

“Guys, seriously!” Dylan exclaimed, “The brainwasher is ready! All we have to do is put it on her!”

“Walk away, guys,” Buffy told them, “Just go. Let this creep be a solo act in prison.”

Fed up, Dylan turned and set the helmet on a nearby table, then took the back of the chair and spun Buffy around to face him.

She looked up at him, taped up and in her underwear, but wearing a small, smug grin.

Let’s see how brave this creep is without his friends.

Surprisingly, he sneered down at her, crossing his arms with full-blown teenage cockiness. There was a playfulness in his eye that she hadn’t seen before, not at all like the self-conscious, angry nerd she knew him to be. If he’d been bigger, she’d have thought he was one of the jocks from the football team, the type that would have bullied him.

“Listen, sweetie,” he said, oozing self-satisfaction, “I’m the one that captured you and I’m the one who you’re going to be sleeping with tonight. So, if you’re going to play mind games, try to play them with me.”

Buffy burst out gigging, then made a big deal out of fighting it down. While she looked him up and down with amused derision, she bit her lip, making it clear she was restraining a grin.

His smirk faded and his brow lowered. He didn’t like that at all.

Buffy shook her head. Yeah, this guy had gained some undeserved confidence, but she had way more experience dealing with cocky teenaged boys than he had being one. Boys really were predictable when their egos were involved.

“Okay,” she said, her voice still bouncing with mirth, “First of all, that’s hilarious. Also, gross.” She wrinkled her nose, “Second, like that weird, Back to the Future shower cap is even going to work. What, did you glue parts of your AC radio kit to a bicycle helmet?”

Dylan glared at her, but again, to her surprise, he accepted the challenge. He met her look of bored amusement with a curl of his lip.

“You know, you keep talking about how our stuff never works, and you’re right,” then he paused, blinking in astonishment, “Oh, but wait! The sleep potion worked when I threw you on my bed and took your clothes off…”

Buffy’s eyes widened at that, the flush returning to her cheeks.

“Heh, yeah,” he leaned closer, “And the seals on the tape work. You can’t move enough to stop me from doing this…”

Dylan placed his hand on her knee, then slowly smoothed it up her thigh.

Buffy almost yelled at him on reflex but bit it back. She didn’t want to let him see it bothered her, but still she stiffened, her eyes narrowing.

His hand smoothed higher, moving along the soft, inside of her thigh.

“And the illusions worked too, didn’t they?” Dylan narrowed his eyes back, “Your brain accepted all of them and you reacted just like we wanted you to.”

He drew back, his sneer becoming triumphant, knowing he’d scored.

Buffy swallowed. Though she hated to admit it, he had a point. Part of why she was so furious is because this stuff was actually working. It felt like some kind of sick joke, like she’d been captured by cartoon characters, but she couldn’t deny that she was, in fact, captured.

“So, you’re three out of two billion,” She tried to earn the point back, “Whoop dee doo.”

Ignoring her comment entirely, Dylan turned to pick up the helmet again. Cradling it against his chest, he turned one of the many knobs on the side with his free hand, running another diagnostic.

“Seeing as you’re getting a C minus in algebra, Buffy, I’ll try to explain how this works in a way you can understand,” he glanced past her, at his friends, “There’s lots of different parts to your brain and they’re not all directly connected. There’s little walls in there, like between your subconscious and conscious mind.”

Buffy scowled at him, her lips beginning to pout with annoyance.

“Those fun little illusions we put you through?” Dylan continued, like he was talking to a child, “Those are still living in your subconscious. Once we put this happy little directed neural distortion device,” he patted the helmet, “On your pretty little head and run the program, all those happy little neurons in your sub conscious are going to move alllllll around in your brain.”

He came closer again, grinning smugly down at her.

Buffy gave him a dirty look, “And let me guess. Then I’ll be totally brainwashed and do whatever you say. Right.”

“Yeah, no duh,” Dylan snorted, “It’ll start by just kind of blanking you out, making you suggestive. We’ll tweak the program as we go along to add in commands, once we have time to mess around in your head.”

He leaned down, not close enough so she could head butt him, but close enough to be in her personal space.

“But we’ll have plenty of time to do that,” he grinned, “You won’t be having much of the thinky-thinky parts at that point. Everything we tell you will seem like a good idea.”

The boy paused there, as if giving her the opportunity to say something.

Buffy had nothing. She was starting to get a bad feeling about this.

“The upshot is that the helmet runs on the same wavelength as the illusions, from the science side instead of magic,” he explained, “And that means since the illusions work… this will work.”

Despite assuring herself this was nuts, a small chill went up Buffy’s spine. Her eyes widened just a bit and a small knit of worry began to form in her brow.

This was just science fiction mumbo jumbo. This couldn’t actually work. Their stuff never worked. It wouldn’t work.

Would it…?

Dylan popped the chin strap off the helmet.

“Besides, if you’re so sure it’s not going to work,” he reached out to set it on her head, “There’s no reason not to try it on…”

Buffy jerked away from the helmet like it was a poisonous snake. Her eyes were much wider now, her eyebrows rising towards her scalp.

The look on Dylan’s face was oily, smug triumph.

“Well, well,” he sneered, “Not so confident after all, huh?”

Now it was Buffy’s turn to swallow. She tried to recover her poise, justifying her reaction to herself, and the same explanation came from her lips.

“I-it doesn’t have to work to fry my brain,” she fired back, “Try it on yourself, creep!”

Dylan nodded slowly, clearly not convinced.

Then, to Buffy’s growing concern, she heard the footsteps of the other two boys coming towards her.

“Suuuuure…” Dylan grinned, “All right, boys. Sort of come from under her chin with both hands, pull her head back. I just need you to keep her still.”

She’d been outmaneuvered. Dylan Rice, creepy nerd and pathetic wannabe extraordinaire, had just managed to turn her attempts at breaking up his little team around on her. She couldn’t believe it.

Blinking slowly at him, her eyes wide, Buffy was speechless. A nagging fear was growing in the back of her mind.

The boys stopped behind her chair, then clumsily reached for her, one from either side.

“B-back off!” Buffy cried, jerking her head wherever she could to avoid them, “I’m not joking! If you guys—Cut it out!”

Henry and Al were nervous in reaching for her, somewhat slow and uncoordinated, but between the two of them there just wasn’t much room for her to maneuver. One of them managed to grab her chin and she jerked away, only to put herself right into the hands of the other. She twisted and bucked, even just shook her head, but gradually they closed in.

“Don’t put your fingers there, she’s going to bite you!” Al hissed.

“I’m not TRYING to!” Henry replied, “She keeps moving!”

“Guys!” Dylan hovered over her with the helmet, “Just pin her in! Come at her slowly, like a pincer maneuver!”

“We’re trying!”

Buffy shook and jerked her head about until she was dizzy, adding her own yowls and snarls to the conversation.

“Keep your grubby little--!” she snapped, “Quit-- Get AWAY!”

Inevitably Al and Henry got their hands on her and held tight. Buffy immediately jerked more violently than ever, trying to power free, but after some initial success they put more muscle into. They squeezed until it hurt her cheeks and jaw.

“There…” Henry grunted, “G-got her…”
 “Hold her…” Al leaned closer to hook his elbow under her neck, putting her in half a headlock to hold her in place.

Buffy’s jerks were restricted to barely noticeable wiggles, then to nothing at all. She fought, putting all the strength she had into twisting loose, but didn’t budge an inch. When she realized she was caught, her eyes widened and she blinked, stunned.

They had grabbed her and trapped her. True, it was their upper bodies against just her neck, but she was the slayer and they were just nerdy twerps that had never done a pushup in their lives. Even though she knew theoretically it was possible, she still couldn’t believe she was in this position.

The sense of disbelief, along with that nagging fear, grew as Dylan leaned closer with the helmet. He lowered it down towards her head.

“B-back off.” She said, without nearly as much aplomb, “You guys are not going to get away with this…”

Dylan just snickered and placed the helmet gently down on her head. It pressed on her bun, smooshing it flat but left plenty of room for him to hook the strap under her chin. She couldn’t jerk away this time and couldn’t escape. The he clicked the strap in place, tugged the side to tighten it down, and there was nothing she could do to stop him.

Once the helmet was snug, he drew back with a smug smirk, then gave it a wiggle. It stayed tight to her skull.

“Like a glove,” he stepped back, “You guys can let go of her now, it’s on.”

The boys let go of her and Buffy shook her head again, trying to jar the helmet loose. She whipped her head side to side, back and forward, then even banged herself into the back of the seat but couldn’t even make it slip. It was fit too snugly, the chair too well cushioned for her to damage it.

As a level of panic began to settle over her, she tried to tell herself she’d been in worse situations. She’d killed actual demons, faced centuries-old monsters and warlocks, and beat vampires in their dozens on a weekly basis. These were just some puberty-addled geeks with too much time on their hands and perverted obsessions.

These observations were both true and logical, but they grew feeble as Dylan settled behind his computer and began hitting keys.

Al and Henry gathered behind him, looking over his shoulder as he worked.

“All right…” the boy’s fingers danced effortlessly on the keyboard, “Prepping warm-up sequence…”

Buffy flinched as beneath the helmet, her scalp tickled, pins and needles running down her neck. Her eyes darted around, breathing picking up as she struggled to fight down panic.

This had to be some kind of prank or something. She’d been in way rougher spots with way more dangerous people. There was a way out of this and she’d find it soon, then laugh about it later. Plus, there was no way this stupid machine would even work. No way.

“I promise,” Buffy snarled, “You guys are going to regret this.”

Dylan just snickered again. He didn’t even loop up from the computer monitor.

“You know, just for future reference,” he said as he continued to type, “Once you’re down to saying things like ‘you won’t get away with this’ and ‘you evil doers will regret this’, you’re officially a damsel in distress.”

Al and Henry joined in his snickering at that, nodding in agreement.

Buffy, on the other hand, pinkened and glared.

“When I get out of this,” she snapped, “I’ll show you a freaking damsel in distress!”

The boys just ignored her. They’d heard it all before by now.

It didn’t matter. She’d get out of this. She’d get out of this in the next few seconds. There was no way that she went down as a brainwashed slave girl to the high school LARP club.

Dylan hit a final key, then leaned back in his seat.

“And ready to run the program,” he looked up at his visibly nervous subject, “Any last, unbrainwashed words, slayer?”

Buffy’s eyes had grown as wide as saucers, both with complete incredulity and fear. They occasionally looked around, desperately trying to find an escape, while her heart skipped and her breasts heaved. The reassuring voice, that was trying to remind her she wasn’t in actual trouble, was starting to sound hysterical.

There was no way. No way. This was a joke. She was the slayer. This was some goofy, Saturday morning super villain crap. There was no way this was happening.

“B-bite me!” she managed to snap.

Dylan shrugged, “Okay. It’s not the most original, but fine.”

He moved the mouse, hovering over the “start” button.

“Buffy the vampire slayer?” he grinned, “I hereby declare you officially defeated… by the Triad.”

Al and Henry snickered with nervous excitement.

Buffy gulped.

This was a joke. A joke. There was no way this was happening. This had to be a joke. There was no—

Click.

Buffy stiffened and squeaked like something had stung her.

Suddenly she was reliving Faith beating her, standing over her, forcing her into submission with an aggressive kiss. But at the same time she was reliving crying that she’d be a good girl over Principal Snyder’s knee, kneeling before the Master and letting him turn her head to bare her throat. She was held down, being ravished by fish people, but at the same time being carried off by a succubus. None of it was real and all of it was, overwhelming her senses and destroying any room for thought.

Lips trembling, she sat frozen, eyes flicking back and forward but seeing nothing. Her brain was hyper stimulated, forced far beyond what it could process and it left her pretty face blank and astonished. Small, confused sounds escaped from her slack lips, instinctive reactions to her mind being overwhelmed.

She was being laid down on an altar to be sacrificed to a dark god. She was hypnotized by Drusilla, staring innocently while the vampires prepared to cut her throat. She was begging for mercy from a dark wizard, letting him put magical shackles on her wrists.

But also, she was in a chair, watching Dylan, Henry, and Al stare at her eagerly, their program destroying her will to resist them.

In minutes, it became too much. Everything went black.

* * *

Hours later, Dylan, Henry, and Al stood around Buffy’s chair, watching her closely.

“Is it done?” Henry asked, “Did it work?”

“It should have worked,” Al scratched his head, “Everything ran smoothly. Wasn’t any hiccups with the magic or the machine.”

“But that doesn’t mean it worked,” his friend frowned.

Dylan remained silent. Bending over, he craned his neck to examine her face, stroking his chin.

Buffy looked like she was asleep. Her eyes were closed, mouth left ajar, her head nestled against the chair and her shoulder, still wearing the helmet. Her breasts rose and fell in the satin bra, looking cute, even innocent as she rested. But the boys were aware that this cute, sleeping kitten could also rip their arms off if they let her up and she wasn’t under their control.

“We should have come up with some way to test it,” Al crossed his arms, brow fretting with worry, “I mean, this isn’t exactly something we want to get wrong.”

Now it was Henry’s turn to be dry and sarcastic, “And how were we supposed to do that?”

“I don’t know! A catch phrase we could have had her say, maybe! Something the program gave her!”

Ignoring them, Dylan unclipped the chin strap and slipped the helmet from her head. Her blonde hair had come loose from her bun and fell down to her shoulder. He carefully set the helmet aside.

“Like a code word? Hello world?”

“It doesn’t matter! Something she couldn’t have known without the program!”

Dylan patted her cheek, “Wake up, Buffy.”

Buffy moaned faintly and nuzzled against the hand before letting out a soft sigh.

Al and Henry, now frowning at each other and arguing the particulars of brain reprogramming, didn’t notice.

“That wouldn’t tell us for sure. There’s a big difference between a prompt that makes her remember a word and total mental rehashing.”

“It would be something, at least! I’m not the programmer anyway, I’m the conjurer! YOU come up with something!”

Dylan patted Buffy’s cheek again and her eyes slowly fluttered open.

He grinned. Looking into them, he saw all he needed to see.

While Al and Henry continued to argue, Dylan rubbed some of the sigils from the tape. They worked like an interconnecting chain, so if one of them broke, the spell broke. After that all he had to do was cut away the tape.

The other boys grew quiet as they watched what he was doing, taking a couple of steps back. Buffy looked docile and barely awake, her eyes lidded and staring at the floor without emotion, but they felt more comfortable if they had a head start to the door.

Dylan wasn’t worried in the slightest. He cut the tape off her ankles, wrists, and chest, then took her by the elbows and pulled her up to her feet.

Buffy followed where he guided her, standing up with neither reluctance nor enthusiasm. In front of the boy that had taken advantage of a moment of a weakness and dragged her here, she stood still, her only expression one of lethargy or extreme boredom. She blinked slowly, head lowered and tilted slightly to one side, like she couldn’t be bothered to hold it upright.

Al and Henry took another pair of nervous steps back as the slayer came to her feet. They were poised to run if she so much as twitched.

However, Buffy didn’t twitch. She didn’t suddenly glare and grab Dylan by the front of his shirt, she just stood there, swaying gently, her eyes and face empty as she stared into the boy’s chest.

Dylan cupped her chin and guided it up, looking into her eyes.

Buffy looked back at him, seeing, recognizing, but not seeming to feel one way or the other about it. Now that her head had been lifted, she kept it there, content to be posed and guided. Her thoughts were simple, but she understood that following directions was the right thing to do.

Dylan bit his lower lip for a second, having to restrain a giggle of almost hysterical glee. He looked her up and down, eyeing her nubile body like the car he’d finally paid for and could drive home.

“So…” he said, breaking the silence, “You guys want to see if it worked?”

Stepping yet closer, his grin ugly and wolfish, he slipped his arms under Buffy’s and reached behind her. It looked almost like he was moving in for a hug, starting to loop his arms around her back, but he stopped short, instead looking over her shoulder to find her bra strap.

While he fiddled, Buffy continued to look at him, her expression not even flickering. She continued to blink, breathe gently, and stare with the docile apathy of a calf. What he was doing didn’t matter to her and neither did modesty. Very little mattered to her, actually, other than doing what she was told.

The bra came undone with a faint click. It was almost inaudible, like the breaking of a toothpick, but the sound set the other two boys’ hearts racing. Henry even gasped.

Dylan let the two halves of the strap fall, then took a moment to feel her smooth shoulders with both hands. He was close enough that he could smell her hair, the skin of her cheek and he nestled himself there, even smoothing his lips around on her soft skin.

Buffy’s eyelashes fluttered and she sighed faintly, seeming to relax a bit more. Being close to boys was a good thing as well, particularly this boy.

When Dylan drew back, he took the bra with him, slipping it from her shoulders and chest with a whisper of satin to skin. Her breasts were perky enough that they didn’t fall, but they did part slightly to the sides, healthy balls bouncing for an instant.

Al and Henry both gasped this time.

Buffy’s breasts were plucky and firm, yet vulnerable without her bra. Their roundness was made slightly imperfect by quarter-sized areolas and nipples that poked out like little stems, the newly revealed skin slightly paler than the rest of her. They rose and fell gently with her untroubled breathing, soft and unprotected.

As he looked back and forward between the two orbs, Dylan’s gleeful titter forced its way free. In a fit of triumphant excitement, he swung the empty bra over his head then let it go.

It hit Henry in the chest, who grunted in surprise and barely caught it.

“I think it’s about time,” Dylan reached to her waist, “To see Buffy Summers a naturale!”

“Okay…” Buffy replied.

Hooking his fingers in her panties, he jerked them down and let them fall around her ankles. The turquoise fabric flopped to her feet, thin and crumpled. They left behind more skin that rarely saw the light of day, pale and smooth, shaved bare to reveal a small cleft between her legs.

While Henry and Al gaped, Dylan let his hands explore, one roaming over her stomach to clasp a breast, the other down her hip and around the back. Without even undergarments to protect them, the soft breast and round cheek moved wherever he liked as he squeezed and molded, entirely free and entirely his.

“That’s right…” Dylan groped his way under the swell of her butt and squeezed.

The perfect little globe was lifted up, slightly widening the shadowy gap between it and the other pale cheek.

“Who are you?” he asked, “And who do you belong to?”

Buffy blinked innocently. She knew the answers to both those questions; it was easy to tell him.

“My name is Buffy Summers,” she replied without inflection, “And I belong to Dylan and the Triad.”

* * *

“Okay, Uhura?” Henry held up a red Star Trek skirt, then a colorful leotard and leggings, “Or Jazzercise Barbie?”

Still dressed in her favorite outfit, nothing, Buffy bent over to pick up the snack leavings and get them out of the way. Her master and his friends had had a long video game session the night before and thus she had chores.

Of course, she always had chores and she was glad. She liked doing things for her master.

“Slave Leia!” Al chimed in.

“Come on, she goes as Slave Leia every other day!” Henry complained, “Let’s try something new! We got her all these outfits!”

Her breasts and bottom bouncing merrily, Buffy marched to the sink, carrying a stack of trays and bowls. Everything had been so much simpler and just better after she’d been put in her place by Dylan. She didn’t have to worry about getting killed, got lots of attention, and she’d found she loved doing these little tasks. It added a little pep to every step.

At first, she’d been a little… well, blank, but after a few more sessions in the helmet, she’d gotten herself back but better than ever. Hardly any adjustment had been needed. Giles had been angry at first, but my powers went away and he got called back by the Watchers. I guess the guys that granted slayer powers decided I wasn’t worthy anymore and Giles had to go Watch the next slayer.

That was okay. She didn’t think she was worthy anymore either. Better let someone else who didn’t lose so easily have it.

“Leotard trumps skirt!” Al crossed his arms, “And bikini trumps leotard!”

“Variety is the spice of life!” Henry complained, “Besides, these are classics!”

“Slave Leia is classic!”

“Guys, you need to get your own girls!” Dylan broke in, “I keep telling you! Then you can dress them up however you want!”

Buffy set the dishes and trays beside the sink, then began happily scrubbing.

“… it’s hard to choose,” Henry groaned, “Plus, you’re the one with the house. Where am I supposed to keep a girl where my parents won’t see?”

“Anyway, Buffy is Triad property!” Al protested, “We should vote!”

Dylan cleared his throat.

“Buffy!” he called, “Come to papa, Buffy!”

Buffy nearly jumped with excitement. She hurriedly set the dishes aside then skipped to the living room, where Dylan was waiting.

Once in view of the boys, she deliberately slowed her pace to a swagger, swaying her hips side to side with the exaggerated motion of a swinging bell. Yet despite the confident display of her naked body, she lowered her head and offered a shy smile. She shared that look for Dylan in particular. She knew he liked her confident around others, but submissive to him. She liked it too; anything he liked, she liked.

“Come here, Buffy-bunny,” he gestured, calling her by one of her many nicknames, “Hurry up.”

At his chiding, she picked the pace up to an eager skip, until she stopped beside him. She nestled into his side and smiled up at him hopefully.

“Yes, master?” she fluttered her lashes, being as pretty as she could.

Dylan grinned at her and let his hand come down to rest on the “Buffy Butt”, as he nicknamed it. He gave it a congratulatory pat and the unprotected cheeks jiggled.

Buffy blushed and arched her back, sticking out the Buffy Butt a bit further. She loved when he did that.

“Good girl,” Dylan told her, “Now, the boys were just bringing up a question I think you can answer. Do you remember how you wound up here?”

Buffy bounced her head in an eager nod, “Uh huh!”

His hand settled on one cheek and began massaging it, kneading it in his palm.

“Tell us!”

Buffy blushed again, biting her lip. She loved telling people this; it made her excited.

“I did my best, but Dylan outsmarted me and defeated me!” she beamed at him, “He completely outdid me and brought me here! The other Triad boys were afraid to help at first, but he convinced them and then finished me off by brainwashing me!” she wiggled her hiney a little in his hand, “He owned my ass. And now I’m his slave girl forever, just like he deserves!”

Dylan licked his lips and slowly nodded. He liked hearing that as much as Buffy liked saying it.

“Say the last part again.” He said.

“And now I’m his slave girl forever,” Buffy obliged happily, “Just like he deserves!”

Satisfied, Dylan nodded and turned back to his friends. They looked slightly sulky but found it hard to be too displeased staring at a naked Buffy.

“My slave girl,” her master said, “I told you guys that since you guys didn’t go with me, she was mine when I caught her. Remember?”

Al and Henry grumbled. Henry stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Rip…” Al muttered, though without any real enthusiasm.

“And since she’s MY Buffy-bunny,” Dylan said, “I say she should run her little Buffy Butt upstairs and put on her Supergirl costume. The Linda Danvers one.”

Buffy brightened. That was her favorite one, “Right now?”

A nod from Dylan is all it took to send her running to the stairs, eager to put on the white shirt and blue skirt.

She’d learned lots of things since she’d lost to Dylan. She knew the difference between Helen Slater and Linda Danvers Supergirl, how the newest Wondergirl was named Cassie and was a blonde like her, how to pretend to be all sorts of characters he liked. She’d gotten good at acting, pretending to be tough, then being a helpless damsel. She learned she liked being spanked and gagged, and carried, she’d learned she liked to clean, do dishes and wear cute underwear.

But the most important thing she learned was that Dylan was the master. She couldn’t imagine how she could have ever thought otherwise.