Split, Part I (Patreon)

Samara finds her body and personality controlled by a former friend turned bully victim. Can she escape? Or will her attempts to do so only change her body and mind further?

Available to Story Tier Patrons

Samara smiled as crossed the cafeteria hall of the university. Her favourite little victim Charlie was sitting all by himself again, hunched over his lunch tray and deep in thought. She smirked to her two friends, Tammy and Kate, and they returned her smile, nodding in unspoken approval of the torment she would unleash.

It wasn’t bullying, not really. A bully has a victim, someone to feel sorry for, and no one ever felt sorry for little Charlie. In fact, she thought, she was rather doing the world a service by taunting him. Maybe one day he’d finally decide, as he had once declared he would that sweet summer one year ago, that it was time to end it all. She could still picture that image, fat salty tears rolling down his thickly-freckled cheeks, his slightly chubby waist bobbing in his shirt as he choked down sobs. A pathetic little man really, who had more than once made the mistake of standing up to her, of telling her off when she took her place at the front of the café queue or flirted with Richard Ackerman so he would finish her sociology assignment for her and make sure she’d get an A. A man that didn’t know his place.

She dwelt on that thought as she adjusted her clothes. Pulled her low top down just a wee bit so that her frankly fantastic cleavage was on display for all the guys to see. Rolled up the bottom so that her smoothly tanned mid-drift showed. Let down her long red hair so that it tussled down over her shoulders and showed off her bright green eyes.

“Wish me luck, girls,” Samara said in her sing-song soprano, though they knew she didn’t need it. Charlie’s spirit had been crushed some time ago. These last few months had just been her victory lap; ensuring that everyone on campus would know the real hierarchy in place. And most importantly, to never, ever remember that one fateful day when the unthinking little piece of snot had almost brought her low and toppled her from the top of that pyramid. When, presumably after weeks of building up unearned confidence, the brat had possessed the sheer fall to ask her out. Her! Samara Wilkins, the most attractive and popular girl on campus. And to do so just because they had been friends in high school! She’d nearly died of shame when others found out that she’d once had braces, had glasses instead of her flawless contacts, had once hung out with him before her gawky figure developed into the body of a goddess she resided in now.

“Well, well well, if it isn’t the resident nobody,” she said, venom dripping in her voice as she set down her tray opposite Charlie. God, she thought, he’s such a nerd. With his – what did he call it? Anime? – well, his shirt with the action hero cartoons on it, and his pair of glasses and brown curly hair that possessed no style at all. She pouted in mock-sadness when he failed to respond, failed to even look up at her. “Awwww, don’t tell me poor Charlie has nothing to say to me? At least give the cafeteria a good cry. You always love showing off how much of a virgin you are.”

Charlie was silent. She saw that he was playing with something in his hands. Turning it over and again in deep concentration.

“Another one of those games of yours Charlie? Retreating into fantasy because no one cares for you in real life?”

“I’m trying to make a decision Samara. And believe me, you don’t want to be influencing the outcome right now.”

She raised an eyebrow. Something about his voice was different from usual. It was icy, cold. Confident. Reminiscent of the old, so called ‘justice-minded’ Charlie, except a touch more sinister. She shrugged off the thought. He was putting on a front, as always. And she could see from his eyes that he was sneaking peeks at her gorgeous tits. She loved putting on display what he had once hoped could be his, what never would be. The little worm’s 3-inch was probably rock-hard right now.

“Ooooh, I’m so scared Charlie. Tell me, what decision could you possibly make that could affect me?”

He regarded her, locked eyes with her. “The decision to make you my slave.”

A pause, and then laughter. The entire cafeteria paused as she cackled and wheezed.

“Oh my, you truly have gone off the deep end, haven’t you?”

Charlie looked back at the thing in his hands. It was a pendant of sorts. “I’m not crazy,” he said quietly. “This pendant has magic in it. I bought it from a woman who runs a mobile caravan shop. She calls herself the Wandering Witch, and she sells all kinds of trinkets. I told her my problem and she gave me this pendant for a hundred dollars. I wasn’t willing to pay at first, until she showed me the results of another customer’s purchase; a curse. The victim had been a rival farmer who had tried to poison the customer’s animals. He’d been turned into some strange mix of a human and a cow and a chicken, and now had to just create milk and eggs for the witch in exchange for a place to sleep.”

Samara nearly laughed again. “Oh my God Charlie, do you hear yourself? That’s retarded.”

“I know, it sounds crazy Samara, but it’s true. Just like those stories we used to write together – “f

She banged her fist on the table. “Don’t remind me of that time Charlie. We didn’t do anything together, not anymore. The past is history, and one day you will be too. I have real friends now, and we’re the popular ones. I’m not outside looking in like I was when I was with you.”

His face seemed almost sad. This wasn’t how their conversations usually went. His calmness was starting to rattle her.

“These friends of yours changed you Samara. You and I used to be good friends. I wish it could be like that again. I’m sorry if I made things uncomfortable by asking you out – maybe if I’d worked up the courage earlier it wouldn’t have felt like a betrayal, maybe if I hadn’t have done it at all we could have at least parted peacefully. But these past two years you’ve been a monster to me just because you want to push away your own past and become just another vapid cheerleader at the top of the pyramid. I’ve got the means to change that now. I’ve got the means to have everything I want, to have you in my life and also have none of you in my life. To set things as I wished they’d been, and to punish you forever for nearly driving me to kill myself.”

Samara stood up, looked down at Charlie. For the merest moment she felt a strain of emotion, a sense of pity. Empathy. The desire to reach out and take his hand and pour a thousand apologies over him and promise to give it all up to be his friend again. To be honest and true to herself and the person that she was, somewhere deep inside.

She strangled the thought in its crib, as she had all the other times. She had to, if she was to remain on top. “You know what Charlie?” she said, drawing out each syllable for maximum effect, “you should kill yourself. At least then I wouldn’t have to listen to this stream of bullshit.”

Charlie’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “Fine,” he said, “I’ve made my choice.”

He raised the pendant over his head and place it around his neck. It seemed almost to glow for a moment, but she must have been seeing things. That was impossible.

“Samara Wilkins, you shall be my slave.”

She laughed. “In your dreams, freak.” She turned to go.

“Stop right there.”

And despite herself, she did. She tried to move again. Failed. “W-what have you done?” she asked. Charlie smirked. “I’ve already told you that Samara, I’ve made you my slave. My girlfriend the slave.”

She tensed her arms but still couldn’t move. Just budge slightly and talk. “I have a boyfriend,” she stammered, becoming truly afraid now. Her large chest heaved as she took laboured, panicking breaths.

“Not anymore you don’t Samara. You’re going to break up with him. In fact, why don’t we kill two birds with one stone and announce to the whole cafeteria that you and I are now an item. You can unfreeze now, so long as you turn to face me.”

Her body moved against her will and did just that. Oh God oh God, he was telling the truth, she thought, and I can’t do anything about it! Richard, Tammy, Kate, do something! But no help was forthcoming, and soon a deep chill of fear shot through her as Charlie spoke his next words.

“Samara, I want you to give me the biggest, most passionate kiss you’ve ever given any man. And I want you to moan while you do it.”

Before she could even try to resist she was flinging her arms around him, lips locking with his as she moaned in his grip, kissing him deeply again and again, her tongue writhing in his mouth. It lasted nearly two minutes, and to her horror she found herself becoming increasingly aroused and wet in response to his touch. Finally, at his indication, they parted.

“Oh my gosh Samara, why are you kissing Charlie Zarner!?” yelled her red-head friend Tammy. Kate was similarly horrified. Richard Ackerman appeared similarly shocked, and even more angry. He stormed closer, large muscles already flexing and ready to defend his girlfriend from an apparent harasser. For a moment a trace of hope rose in Samara, until she saw that Charlie was still calm, even confident.

“Samara,” he said, “I want you to explain to Richard that I’m your boyfriend now.”

And once again, her body was no longer hers, her mouth now on autopilot as she stopped her approaching former-boyfriend cold and began yelling “go away Richard! We’re through! I’m breaking up with you and now Charlie Zarner is my boyfriend. I’m in love with him and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Richard’s jaw dropped, and for a moment he didn’t know what to say. “Samara, is this one of your games?”

She desperately wanted to tell him yes. Desperately wanted to go back on so much she had inflicted on Charlie these past two years so she could avoid her current fate. Instead she said “No Richard. I’m talking for real. I’ve been thinking a lot lately and I’m sick of the person I’ve become. I was happier when Charlie was my friend, and I know I’ll be even happier with him as my lover.” With that she placed a slender arm around his waist. “I don’t want to talk to you again, especially since Charlie and I have so much . . . catching up to do.” She walked her fingers up Charlie’s chest and smiled with a playful, kittenish quality. Her heart nearly stopped inside her chest. Oh please God no!

“C’mon Samara, let’s go back to my place. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

And she was helpless to refuse his commands. Her body and mind ached as she tried to refuse, tried to walk away, and she was rewarded with a more soothing sensation as she complied. He was telling the truth, she marvelled, he really has made me into his slave.