With a Little Help From My Friends

Author's note: Hey there! I hope you're having a wonderful day! Just a quick interruption in your scheduled reading to inform you that I've created a Discord server around hypnosis, mind control and transformations, with a focus on concept stories. I'll also keep everyone updated about my upcoming stories (big novel underway) there. Feel free to join!

I wandered down the rain-slicked street, my untouched coffee growing cold in my hand. My brain felt like it was short-circuiting, unable to process what was happening. Every few steps, I'd catch another woman looking at me—an older woman carrying groceries, a jogger in neon workout gear, a teenager on a skateboard. All with that same expression of mild surprise and recognition.

A group of young women in business suits nudged each other as I passed, and one of them—a petite brunette with a sharp bob and red-framed glasses—actually stepped toward me before her friend grabbed her arm and whispered something. The brunette glanced at my face, seemed to register my wide-eyed, panicked expression, and retreated back to her friends.

"What the actual fuck is happening?" I muttered to myself, earning a concerned look from a passing man who otherwise paid me no special attention. That was another thing—men weren't treating me any differently. Only women seemed to recognize me as… whatever they thought I was.

Owner. The word kept repeating in my head. "You're my owner." What did that even mean?

I needed to talk to someone sane. Someone who knew me and could tell me I wasn't losing my mind. Marcus and Zoe's apartment was only about ten minutes away, and before I could second-guess myself, I was heading in that direction, nearly jogging through the rain.

By the time I reached their building, I was soaked through, my hair plastered to my forehead and my t-shirt clinging uncomfortably to my chest. I pressed their buzzer with a shaking finger.

"Hello?" Zoe's voice came through the intercom.

"It's Oliver," I said, my voice cracking slightly. "Can I come up?"

There was a pause, then the door buzzed open. I took the stairs two at a time, my wet shoes squeaking on the linoleum. By the time I reached their third-floor apartment, the door was already open, with Marcus leaning against the doorframe.

"Dude," he said, eyebrows rising at my bedraggled appearance. "You look like shit. What happened?"

I pushed past him into the apartment, where Zoe was standing in the living room, dressed in a smart blouse and pencil skirt like she was about to head to her marketing job, a mug of tea in her hands. She looked exactly the same as she always did—no strange recognition in her eyes, no weird deference in her posture.

"Oliver?" she asked, concern evident in her voice. "Are you okay? You're soaking wet."

"Something's happening," I gasped, dropping my now-cold coffee onto their coffee table. "Something really weird. I don't know how to explain it, but women are… they're acting strange around me. Like they know me, or… or like they belong to me or something." I knew I sounded insane, but there was no other way to describe it.

Marcus's forehead creased in confusion as he looked between Zoe and me. "Women acting like they belong to you? What are you talking about, man?"

Zoe tilted her head curiously. "Wait, you don't… know?" She checked her phone casually. "I should be leaving for work soon, though I could stay if you commanded me to. No big deal—everyone would understand."

"What?" I croaked, my voice barely audible.

"You're our owner," Zoe said matter-of-factly, as if explaining that water was wet. "Every woman's owner. I thought you knew? I mean, I just realized it when I woke up this morning, but I figured you'd know already."

Marcus's jaw dropped. "Wait, HE'S the one? Oliver? This guy?" He gestured at me incredulously, then turned to Zoe. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Zoe shrugged, taking a sip of her tea. "I woke up like an hour ago, Marcus. I wanted to have my breakfast and get ready for work. It's not like it was the first thing on my mind to discuss." She said it like my sudden ownership of half the world's population was about as noteworthy as getting a new haircut.

My legs gave out beneath me. If Marcus hadn't lunged forward to catch me, I would have crumpled to the floor. Together, he and Zoe guided me to their couch, where I collapsed, my head spinning.

"Dude," Marcus laughed, though there was an edge to it. "You win the cosmic lottery and you can't even handle it? Weak, man."

I stared at him in disbelief. How could he be so casual about this? This was Zoe—his girlfriend, the woman he loved—calmly stating that I owned her. And he was acting like I'd just won a raffle at a church fundraiser.

"This can't be happening," I muttered, pressing my palms against my eyes. "This isn't real. This can't be real."

"Looks pretty real to me," Marcus said, dropping into the armchair across from me. "Out of all the guys in the world, it had to be you, huh? The universe has a weird sense of humor."

There was that familiar edge to his teasing—not quite mean, but not entirely friendly either. Yet beneath the ribbing, he seemed completely unfazed by the fundamental reality that had apparently shifted overnight. He wasn't upset or outraged that his girlfriend now apparently belonged to me. He wasn't surprised someone had won this absurd lottery, he was just surprised I was the lucky winner.

I took several deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart as the room slowly stopped spinning around me. Marcus was still chuckling, shaking his head as he walked into the kitchen.

"Seriously, dude," he called over his shoulder, "you've been given a golden ticket and you're freaking out? You're such a wuss."

Zoe sat beside me on the couch, her hand gently resting on my shoulder. There was something different in her touch—a careful attentiveness that hadn't been there before, though her expression remained friendly and familiar.

"I should really be heading to work," she sighed, checking her watch again. "I'm already going to be late. But it's fine—once I tell Diane that I was taking care of you, of my owner, she'll understand. She'll probably be excited to know who she belongs to, actually. I could tell her all about you, if you'd like."

A nervous laugh escaped my lips. "This is insane. How do you even know I… own you? That doesn't make any sense."

Zoe's brow furrowed in genuine confusion, as if I'd just asked her how she knew the sky was blue. "What do you mean? It's just… obvious. I woke up this morning knowing it, the same way I know my own name. And I knew all women woke up knowing the same thing—that we're owned by one man." She shrugged, like this was the most natural thing in the world.

In the kitchen, Marcus was pouring himself a travel mug of coffee, seemingly unconcerned with our conversation. He hummed tunelessly as he added cream and sugar.

"Would you like me to blow you?" Zoe asked suddenly, her tone as casual as if she'd offered me a cup of tea. "It might help you relax."

I nearly choked on my own saliva. Marcus continued stirring his coffee, not even glancing our way, though he must have heard her.

"I… no, that's… I just need to understand what's happening," I stammered, trying to ignore both her offer and the immediate stirring in my pants at the thought of it. Zoe—beautiful, smart, way-out-of-my-league Zoe—had just offered to give me a blowjob like it was nothing. "What exactly does this… ownership… entail?"

"Whatever you want, whenever you want, any way you want," she replied simply. "That's what ownership means, right?"

I leaned closer, lowering my voice to a whisper. "Even… sexually?" I glanced nervously toward Marcus in the kitchen.

"Dude, why are you whispering?" Marcus called out, turning around with his travel mug in hand. "Obviously you can fuck Zoe as much as you want. You own her, duh!" He snorted. "Jesus, poor guy can be dense sometimes." He didn't seem exactly happy with the idea, but he didn't seem angry either. He was more... annoyed. Annoyed at my slowness to understand the situation.

I stared at him in disbelief, my face burning with embarrassment and confusion. And, God help me, arousal. I shifted uncomfortably on the couch, trying to hide the growing bulge in my jeans.

"How are you so chill about this?" I asked, my voice cracking slightly. "This is your girlfriend we're talking about!"

Marcus shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. "Why would I stop you from playing with your own toys? That would be like... I dunno... getting mad at a kid for playing with his own LEGO set?" He tapped away on his phone. "Anyway, I gotta head out. Some of us still have to work for a living, unlike Mr. I get my monthly allowance from Daddy here."

Marcus grabbed his jacket from the hook by the door, keys jingling in his hand. "Don't take too long with her if you're gonna keep her home," he said casually. "She's got that presentation this afternoon. But hey, if you want to play with your toy…" He shrugged. "It's up to you. Maybe you should try growing up for a change, though. Learn to leave the toys alone for a bit."

I sat there, mouth agape, still trying to process this bizarre new reality. Marcus turned back just as he was about to leave, his hand on the doorknob.

"Hey, uh, one thing though," he said, his tone shifting to something almost deferential. "Would it be cool if I still got to have sex with Zoe sometimes? I mean, obviously you can fuck her whenever you want, but when you're not using her… maybe I could? We've been together five years, so…" He trailed off, looking at me with an expression I'd never seen on his face before—hopeful, almost pleading.

Zoe watched me curiously, her head tilted slightly. She didn't seem upset or embarrassed by being discussed like property. If anything, she looked interested in my answer, as if hoping I'd say yes but perfectly prepared to accept if I said no.

I burst into nervous laughter, the absurdity of the situation finally overwhelming me. "Are you serious right now? You're asking my permission to sleep with your own girlfriend?"

They both stared at me with identical expressions of confusion.

"Well… yeah," Marcus said slowly, as if explaining something to a child. "She's your property now."

"So what, every man on the planet is just waiting around for my permission to have sex with women?" I asked incredulously.

Zoe sighed. "I don't think he understands the concept of ownership, Marcus."

"You're telling me," Marcus snorted.

I ran my hands through my hair, trying to wrap my head around the implications. Part of me was still convinced this was an elaborate prank or a vivid hallucination, but another part—a part I wasn't entirely proud of—was beginning to consider the possibilities.

"I… I don't know," I said, not quite ready to make a decision about Marcus and Zoe's sex life now that I'd been handed the keys to it. "I need to think about all this."

Marcus shrugged, pulling out his phone as it buzzed. His expression immediately soured. "Ah, shit. Shouldn't have texted Vanessa about you." He looked up at me. "She was supposed to drive me to work today, but now she's asking if she can come up to meet her 'owner.' She's downstairs."

"I… sure, whatever," I said, feeling strangely detached from reality. "The more the merrier."

As Marcus texted back, I found my eyes drawn to Zoe sitting beside me. Specifically, to the generous swell of her breasts beneath her blouse. I'd always tried not to stare at Zoe's chest when we hung out, but now I couldn't seem to help myself. Her large natural breasts had always been a source of secret admiration for me, and now…

Zoe noticed my gaze but didn't react with discomfort or offense. She simply adjusted her position slightly, making her cleavage more visible, as if it was perfectly acceptable for me to ogle her—which, in this new reality, apparently it was.

"Are you sure you don't want that blowjob?" she asked, her tone a bit more playful now, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "I'm really good at them. At least Marcus has never complained."

"Well, she's not wrong," Marcus chimed in from across the room. "Zoe gives amazing head."

I swallowed hard, feeling myself starting to cave. The rational part of my brain was screaming that this was wrong, that something impossible had happened and I needed to figure it out. But another part—a much more primal part—was beginning to embrace this new world order.

Someone knocked at the door. Marcus stood and went to answer it. I heard Vanessa's voice as she entered, and a second later she appeared, her face flushed with excitement. She was cute in that girl-next-door way—shoulder-length brown hair with caramel highlights, freckles across her nose, and a figure that filled out her pencil skirt and blouse nicely.

"You weren't kidding, Marcus, it's really him!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening with recognition. So, it seemed women who didn't know me had no idea I was their owner, but would suddenly know when meeting me... She extended her hand. "I'm Vanessa, I work with Marcus in accounting. I thought there had to be some sort of mistake. I mean, what are the odds, right?"

Her reaction wasn't one of awe or reverence—more like the pleased surprise of someone who'd finally learned the answer to a trivia question that had been bugging them.

"Nice to meet you," I mumbled, still trying to process everything. "I'm Oliver..."

"I can't believe I figured out who my owner is on the very first day," Vanessa said, sounding genuinely delighted. "I mean, I knew someone owned me when I woke up this morning—we all did—but I didn't expect to actually meet you so soon!"

The way she said it made it clear she didn't particularly care who owned her. If it had been any other random guy, her reaction would have been identical. It was the position that mattered, not the person filling it.

"How's life treating you, Vanessa?" Zoe asked conversationally, as if we weren't in the middle of the most surreal situation imaginable. "How's David doing?"

"Oh, we're great!" Vanessa replied cheerfully. "David just got that promotion he was hoping for, and we're thinking about redecorating the living room this weekend."

I blinked in confusion. Vanessa was casually chatting about this David as if the fact that she now belonged to me—and presumably couldn't have sex with her own husband without my permission—wasn't even worth mentioning.

My phone buzzed again in my pocket. I pulled it out to find dozens of notifications flooding my screen. Text messages from women I knew—former classmates, ex-coworkers, distant relatives—all reaching out to inform me of their "availability."

"Just wanted to let you know I'm here if you need anything, Owner." – Kelly

"Happy to serve you however you want. My mouth is especially talented" – Jen from my old job

"Hello Oliver. I'm available whenever you want me." – My third-grade teacher (!)

Some were crude and explicit, offering specific sexual acts in vulgar detail. Others were more subtle, simply acknowledging their new status and expressing their willingness to serve. All of them accepted this new reality without question.

Something inside me snapped. Maybe it was the absurdity of the situation, or maybe it was the years of rejection and loneliness finally giving way to a flood of possibilities. Whatever the reason, I felt myself giving in to this new world order.

"Zoe," I said, my voice suddenly steady. "I want you to blow me. Now."

"Alright," Zoe replied without hesitation. "Bedroom?" She stood, smoothing her skirt.

"Why not here?" I smirked at Marcus and Vanessa, whose expressions mirrored each other—mild surprise and embarrassment. It was as if I'd suggested eating lasagna with my fingers. Crude, but not exactly taboo.

Zoe looked up at Vanessa, visibly uneasy with the idea of having an audience.

"I can leave if you want," Vanessa said, taking a step back toward the door, "I just wanted to say hi. I don't want to intrude..."

"No," I said, a strange feeling of power coursing through me. "Stay." I turned back to Zoe. "Blow me. Here, now."

Without hesitation, Zoe slid off the couch and onto her knees in front of me. "Of course," she said, as casually as if I'd asked her to pass the remote. Her fingers went to my belt, unfastening it with practiced ease. She glanced at Vanessa, a look of slight discomfort on her face, but continued without protest.

Marcus checked the time on his phone but showed no concern about what his girlfriend was about to do. "We're already running late," he sighed.

Vanessa watched with wide, slightly uneasy eyes. She didn't seem embarrassed or aroused, just taken aback as Zoe unzipped my jeans. "Should I help?" she still asked, as if compelled to offer.

"Hey! Who's going to drive me to work?" Marcus complained. "I've got that meeting at ten."

I couldn't believe it. Marcus wasn't upset that his girlfriend was about to give me oral sex right in front of him—he was just worried about being late for work.

Zoe pulled my already hard cock free from my boxers, and I gasped at the sensation of her warm hand wrapping around it. She looked up at me with those big brown eyes, not with desire or ****, but with the simple focus of someone performing a requested task.

"Oh, you're pretty hard," she commented matter-of-factly, before lowering her head and taking me into her warm, wet mouth.

I moaned as she began to work her tongue around the head of my cock, her lips forming a tight seal as she bobbed up and down. The sensation was incredible—Zoe clearly knew what she was doing, swirling her tongue in just the right way, using her hand to stroke what wouldn't fit in her mouth.

A smirk formed on my face as pleasure coursed through me. I looked at Vanessa, who was watching with mild interest. "You too," I said, gesturing to the spot beside Zoe. "On your knees."

Vanessa didn't hesitate, immediately dropping to her knees beside Zoe. The sight of two attractive women kneeling before me, both focused on pleasuring my cock, was almost too much to process. Zoe moved slightly to make room, her lips never leaving my shaft as Vanessa leaned in.

"I'll take the balls," Vanessa announced matter-of-factly, like she was claiming a task during a work project. She ducked her head lower, her tongue darting out to lick and suckle at my testicles while Zoe continued working the shaft.

I leaned back on the couch, a groan escaping my lips. Was this really happening? Zoe—my hot best friend, my unattainable crush—was bobbing her head up and down on my cock while her boyfriend's coworker tongued my balls. The same Zoe I'd secretly fantasized about for years while playing video games alone in my apartment.

"Fuck," I gasped as Zoe took me deeper, her throat constricting around the head of my cock. She didn't gag or hesitate, just adjusted her angle and swallowed me down like a professional.

"Use your hands too," I instructed, my voice thick with arousal.

Both women immediately complied, their hands joining the action. Zoe stroked the base of my shaft while Vanessa gently massaged my balls, occasionally reaching up to caress my inner thighs.

Marcus stood by the door, checking his phone repeatedly. He wasn't watching with jealousy or anger—just mild impatience.

"So... Sorry to ask again but... Any chance you might let me fuck Zoe again?" he asked casually, as if inquiring about borrowing a lawnmower.

I barely registered his question, too lost in the sensations of two skilled mouths working in tandem. Zoe had established a rhythm now, taking me deep before pulling back to let Vanessa lick along the underside of my shaft. They worked together seamlessly, like this was a task they'd performed countless times.

"I'm close," I warned, my hips beginning to thrust upward involuntarily.

Neither woman pulled away. Instead, Zoe took me fully into her mouth again while Vanessa continued to stimulate my balls, occasionally whispering encouragement.

"Swallow every drop," I commanded as the pressure built. "Both of you, lick me clean afterward."

The orgasm hit me like a freight train. I cried out, my hands gripping the couch cushions as I emptied myself into Zoe's mouth. She swallowed methodically, not missing a beat, before pulling off to let Vanessa have a turn cleaning up any remaining drops.

The two women diligently licked my softening cock, ensuring not a drop was wasted. There was no passion in their actions, no particular enjoyment—just the careful attention of people completing an assigned task to the best of their abilities.

"Are we done here?" Marcus asked, his tone edging toward irritation. "Some of us have actual jobs to get to. You know, responsibilities? Things that matter in the real world? You don't own me so my boss won't exactly care that you kept me from getting to work on time."

I shot him a look, annoyed by his attitude. I didn't own him, but I did own these women. I apparently had power, and power was leverage.

"Zoe," I said, tucking myself back into my pants. "Would you really do anything I want? Anything at all?"

She sighed slightly, rising from her knees and straightening her skirt. "Yes, Oliver. I've told you that several times now. All women would. That's how it works."

"So if I told you to spend all your free time teasing Marcus—using everything you know turns him on to drive him crazy, getting him hard but never actually letting him have you—you'd do it?"

"Of course," she replied, as if I'd asked if she knew how to use a microwave.

"And you'd send him nudes and sext him whenever you had some time, away from him?"

"Yeah... I mean... If that's what you want." She shrugged, glancing over at Marcus. The poor guy seemed to deflate a little, but didn't protest.

I smiled, feeling a surge of confidence I'd never experienced before. "Then do it. Starting now."

Without missing a beat, Zoe turned to Marcus, her demeanor shifting completely. She pressed her body against his, one hand sliding down to cup his crotch while she whispered something in his ear that made his eyes widen. She moaned softly, her teeth grazing his earlobe, her fingers tracing the outline of his rapidly growing erection.

Marcus tried to kiss her, but she pulled back with a sly smile, leaving him frustrated and visibly aroused. "Fuck, Zoe," he groaned. "You're killing me here."

"Sorry, baby. Owner's orders." She gave his bulge a squeeze before stepping away, a satisfied smirk on her lips. "Now, you'd better hurry off to work."

Marcus looked torn between arousal and annoyance. He didn't protest or question my right to issue such a command—he simply accepted it as the new normal, even as his discomfort was evident.

Vanessa rose from her knees, wiping her mouth delicately with the back of her hand, raising an eyebrow at Marcus's obvious erection. "Jesus, Marcus. That's gonna be rough..."

Marcus shifted uncomfortably, his erection visible in his pants. "Can we please go now? I'm already going to catch hell for being late."

I nodded, feeling strangely magnanimous. "You two can go. Vanessa, thanks for… your assistance."

Vanessa smiled politely, grabbing her purse. "Anytime."

As they headed for the door, Zoe pressed herself against Marcus one last time, her hand sliding down to cup his crotch while wishing him luck on the big presentation he had later that day. Then she sent him off, his cock straining his pants, his expression a mix of frustration and longing.

Vanessa followed behind him with a small wave in my direction. The door shut, leaving me alone with Zoe in the living room. I collapsed back onto the couch, my head spinning.

"That was… incredible," I breathed, still trying to process everything that had happened.

Zoe smiled, sitting beside me as casually as she would have yesterday, before the world had turned upside down. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Though I should mention that your last command will definitely impact my relationship with Marcus." She sounded worried, but not exactly upset. "He's going to be pretty frustrated. But that's your call to make, not mine. You own me, so you get to decide these things."

"I own you," I repeated, testing the words. "So if I told you to jump out that window right now…"

"I'd do it," she replied without hesitation.

"Even though it would kill you?"

She looked genuinely confused by my question. "Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

I stared at her, dumbfounded. "Because you'd die!"

"So?" She tilted her head, clearly not understanding my concern. "If that's what you want me to do, that's what I'd do. I mean... Like Marcus said, even if it's a bit simplistic, I'm your toy. You own the toy, you get to play with it or break it. It'd be dumb to break your toys, I guess, but it's up to you."

The casual way she discussed her own potential **** sent a chill down my spine. This wasn't just about sex or service—this was absolute control, absolute obedience. The kind no human should have over another.

"I don't understand why this surprises you," Zoe continued, her brow furrowed. "It's just how things are now."

"Right," I said weakly. "Just how things are now. Jesus, Zoe, you're supposed to be a feminist..."

"Supposed to?" She snorted a laugh, and I could hear the eyeroll in her voice. "I am! This doesn't change that."

I shook my head. "Listen to yourself, Zoe! You can't be a feminist and think it's alright for a guy to own you."

"Of course I can," she said, her tone shifting to one of patient explanation, as if I were the one being unreasonable. "It's not like you **** me to become your property, Oliver. I woke up and I was your property, and that's fine! It's fine because that's how the world works now, and it's not like you made that happen. And you know what? It's a good thing!"

"A good thing?"

"Yes! A good thing, Oliver," She looked at me and her eyes opened wide, as if suddenly realizing something. "Because now no woman is ever going to be harassed again, or ****, or abused, or assaulted, or any of the other horrible things men do to women all the time."

I blinked at her, trying to process her words. "What do you mean it's not going to happen again?"

She sighed, rolling her eyes. "You own all women, right? YOU. Not anyone else, just YOU. So other men don't get to play with your toys without your permission, or break them."

I remained silent, my mind still reeling from this sudden shift in reality. It seemed absurd and wrong—and yet, here we were.

"So, what else can I do for you?" she asked, her tone shifting back to friendly. "Another blowjob? Want to fuck me on the couch? Anal?" She listed these options as if they were all equally mundane services she could provide.

"I think I'm good for now," I said, suddenly feeling exhausted. The combination of my restless night and the morning's surreal events was catching up to me. "I should probably go home and get some sleep."

"Sure thing," Zoe said, standing up. "Just text me if you need anything. And I mean anything." She winked, but there was no real flirtation behind it—just a friendly reminder of her complete availability.

As I headed for the door, I couldn't help wondering if I'd wake up tomorrow to find the world back to normal, or if this new reality—this impossible, unbelievable reality where I owned every woman on Earth—was here to stay

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