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As you go in, you suddenly realize that all the patrons are women - very fit women, but you've obviously stumbled into a woman's gym. Embarrassed, you start to leave but are intercepted by a trainer.

You fumble your words, both because of embarrassment and because, well, her name tag says Yvonne, and she is a tall, gorgeous, Nordic Valkyrie.

"I apologize, the site recommending this location didn't mention it as a woman's facility - I don't want to be a problem, just moving out."

She appraises you and you can feel yourself coming up short in the appraisal. No doubt anyone that looks like that has her pick of men are not ... Well ... Pug, middle aged and pudgy. You feel heat flushing your cheeks.

She arches a perfectly arched eyebrow at you, still standing between you and the exit, and coming to a decision. "Mmm, no, I don't think so. We've actually opened up for male clientele and they keep getting scared and backing out, so I think we need a mascot and I think I'm going to make you it."

She pokes one impressive nail in your stomach, almost painfully. "Let me guess, your Doctor told you to lose the weight? You work in the building, and if you walk out you're going to use that as an excuse and not get around to ever finding another gym? Well, what if I just don't let you. Gimme six months and if I don't shut your doctor up it's free."

You take a deep breath and try to steady yourself, knowing that this is a trap. You can see in Yvonne's eyes that she has the upper hand and that she's not afraid to use it. "O-okay," you say, giving in. "I'll stay and see if it helps." Yvonne grins at you and pulls you over to a bike machine.

To your shock, she straps your feet and hands in, then attachs a silent but powerful pump to your penis in full view of the apparently oblivious female clients.

Then she brings up some kind of smart watch, and the pump silently turns turn on, tortuously slowly, but speeding up as you do. The pleasure of the pump makes you light-headed and you feel your hands start to tremble as the intensity increases. Your stomach is clenching uncomfortably, but you can't stop what you're doing.

As you make your way through the routine, you can feel your muscles aching and your erection throbbing against the relentless pressure from the pump which forces you to slow down and speed up according to a schedule known only to Yvonne. You can see the satisfaction in her face as you struggle to keep up, and she doesn't seem in a hurry to end the punishment. A few minutes later, she releases you and lets you breathe for a moment. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest and the sweat pouring down your face. She looks at you with a wicked smile and pats you on the back. "So, how do you feel, Pug?" she asks, a flirty tone in her voice. "Good?" You can't help but agree, unable to resist the lure of the pump and its seductive effect on your body. She flicks her wrist, activating the release mechanism for the pump, and the pressure suddenly disappears. You stumble off the bike, still reeling from the intensity of the experience. "Let's see how you do on the weights," Yvonne says, leading the way to another section of the gym. You're still trying to process everything that happened, but the knot in your stomach is growing larger with each passing second. You do your best to focus on your workout, but you can feel the mocking eyes of the women on you as you struggle to move the weight machine on its lightest setting. Then Yvonne starts to strap you in again, again openly leashing your erection with the pump. You groan in frustration and try to stop her, but she merely forces you down onto the machine and activates the clamp on your penis. Again the pattern of your training is controlled by the relentless pace of the slick suction. You push yourself to the limits of endurance, ignoring the discomfort and desperately trying to focus on the task at hand. Finally, after what seems like hours, Yvonne releases you and steps back to admire your work. "Not bad," she says with a smile. "You're not going to replace any of those hot bodies here, but you did well enough to maintain your spot. Consider it a monthly membership fee."

Yvonne hands you some pills for soreness, and sleep. You leave for home, exhausted, take the pills and sleep. You want to masturbate yourself into sweet oblivion, but even if you weren't sore and exhausted, you're not at all sure you want to reinforce the fantasies you would have tonight. Instead, you drift into a troubled sleep, disturbed by images of the seductive and enticing strength of the women at the Gym. You wake up the next morning, feeling a bit disoriented and sore from your workout, and with a hard on that won't go away. You can still feel the subtle push and pull of the pump on your sensitive member, and your skin feels tingly and hypersensitive from the chemicals in the workout supplements.

After work you consider skipping the gym, but your erection likes it more than you do and you end up getting out on the 13th floor. Fortunately Yvonne is nowhere to be seen. As you sneak in for another workout, you can't help feel concerned by the needy erection that seems to come up against your will, the fact that it seems to want a trainer to come over and strap you in again. You're not sure of the motive behind their goals and you can't shake the feeling that they're using you for their own purposes. Nevertheless, you continue to pursue your fitness goals.

As time passes, you begin to notice that the other women at the gym seem more confident and self-assured. The men, however, seem to be growing increasingly subservient and docile, always willing to follow whatever commands are given to them by the coaches, or even just women at the gym. You can feel your own lust seeming to twist into a desire to submit, a desire you're both grateful and disappointed none of the women have taken advantage of.

When you're on breaks or in the locker room, you start to hear the gossip about the Sisterhood and how they're using the influence of the gym and their advanced technology to expand their influence over the city. You hear rumors about a secret underground network of these women, working towards some unknown agenda. As your hormones fluctuate and your libido fluctuates alongside it, you find yourself desperately wanting to be a part of that.

That's enough. You decide you need to quit, cold turkey, before you become like some of the other men at the gym, simping for abuse.

You get home and block the phone numbers of the Gym and remove all your login information from the website. You reach out to your doctor and book an appointment to discuss a healthy and sustainable lifestyle that will fit your needs. You say goodbye to the fleeting feeling of euphoric submission and settle down into a new chapter of your life, determined to make your health and fitness a priority. The next few weeks fly by, and you start to feel more in control, both physically and mentally. You're sleeping better, eating healthier, and having more energy to do the things you enjoy. The obsession of the Gym begins to fade as you focus on your own health and progress. You look back on your time there with a sense of nostalgia, but also a sense of relief that you are no longer part of the system. Though it may have taken a lot to leave, you're finally ready to start living your life on your own terms. As you turn away from the window and back to your current task, your phone vibrates with an incoming call. It's a number you don't recognize, but when you answer, you hear a voice on the other end you recognize all too well. It echoes through your mind like a siren from the past, forcing you to relive your fear and your lust.

You know this voice all too well, the voice of your former trainer, your former mistress, Yvonne. You take a deep breath and steady yourself before answering. "Yvonne," you say, trying to keep the quiver out of your voice. "How are you?" She ignores your question and launches straight into her spiel, her voice as smooth and seductive as ever. "You should come back to the gym, Pug. There are still things you need to learn." You know there's no escaping the pull of her influence, and you can still feel the urge to submit to her overwhelming, even after all this time. You force yourself to resist, telling her that you have other things to focus on and reminding her of your decision to quit. She lets out a playful chuckle, but you can tell she's not taking your refusal lightly. "Maybe it's time I reassessed my asking price," she says. "If you're serious about walking away, I'll make it easy for you. All you have to do is come back for another training session." You freeze, unsure of what to say. She's proving to be much more tenacious than you initially thought, and even after all this time something deep in her voice feels like a boa constrictor around your cock and balls. You try to say no, but your voice cracks like a boy still in puberty.

"Fine," you whisper, defeated by your own weak will. "I'll come for one session." She chuckles, the excitement evident in her tone. "Wonderful," she says. "I'll see you this evening." And with that, she hangs up, leaving you feeling shaken and powerless.

You try to resist after work, but it's as though she had your balls in her fist. You arrived feeling half in a trance.

As you step through the frosted glass door of the Gym, the air is filled with a faint but overpowering scent. The scent of sweat and arousal mixed with the fresh smell of sweat-inducing chemicals is enough to take your breath away. You feel something shift in your core as you inhale deeply, your body responding to the smell of so many aroused and empowered women. It curls your insides and makes your heart beat faster. As you walk in, you're immediately greeted by your favorite trainer, Morgan.

She smiles warmly at you, her eyes sparkling with something that can only be described as intensity. "You're just in time," she says, leading you over to the mats. As you follow her, you can't help but notice the new machines lining the far wall. They look advanced and intimidating, covered with screens and buttons and valves. You can feel the heat radiating from them, and know that they must be integral to their experiment. Morgan pulls up a chair and sits in front of you, her eyes locked on yours. "We're going to do something special today, Pug," she says, her voice low and throaty. "Are you ready?"

You know you're not ready. You also know you couldn't fight over the phone, and your erection is in control here. You obey.

Morgan leads you through a series of exercises and stretches, your focus and obedience enhanced by the lingering effects of the workout routine and supplements. Sweat beads on your body as you push yourself to her limits, desperate to impress her and earn her approval. When you've finished, she stands up and reaches for her shirt, peeling it off to reveal her toned, muscular body. "Time to get to work."

She straps you into the new machine, putting the pump on your erection. This new machine has a prostate stimulator that slides in your rectum, and then she attachs a pair of small cups to your nipples.

The device isn't even started yet and you begin to whimper as it becomes obvious that what you were in before was just a prototype. This is the finished design, a device to break men with.

It gets worse.

She shaves your head bald, and places some kind neural sensory net over your head. They're going to be able to monitor your brain. She puts two rubber bands to your eyelids so they're gently held open.

Finally they place a helmet over your head, so everything you see and hear is under their control.

Then you sit in the dark, trying to anticipate and resist whatever is going to happen. Finally you simultaneously feel the pump clamp down, the nipples start vibrating, and the prostate stimulator start, all at one.

You enter virtual reality and your introduction to true helplessness begins.

You find yourself trapped in a dark, claustrophobic space, with only flashes of light and sound to keep you company. Your surroundings seem to shift with each breath you take, making you unsure of where you stand or who is with you. The sounds are distorted and disorienting, but they mix with your sense of touch to trigger an overwhelming flood of endorphins. You're bombarded with sights and sounds, making you feel helpless and overwhelmed. You can't move, you can't see, and you can't escape the cacophony of sensations flooding your brain. Suddenly, you hear a voice cut through the noise. "Pug," it says, a familiar and seductive voice you recognize all too well. "Do you remember what it feels like to submit?" Your body reacts to the voice, the overwhelming urge to obey coursing through your veins. "I remember how it felt." You say, unable to contain the nervous tremor in your voice. "How did it feel?" You hear a smirk in Yvonne's voice, her words sending a shiver down your spine. "Like absolute ecstasy," she purrs. "Now open your eyes." You crack open your eyes, the sensation and lightness disorienting you even further. You sit up slowly, your senses overwhelmed by the sights and sounds. "What do you want to see, Pug?" Yvonne asks, a cruel glint in her eye. You shake your head, not knowing if you can handle it. She leans in, her scent filling your lungs and coursing through your veins. "Whatever you want," she whispers, the words sending a surge of electricity through your body. "Just tell me what you desire." You stammer, unsure what to say. "I-I want to see the machine again," you say, your throat dry with anticipation. Yvonne chuckles, her lips curling into a smile. "Of course you do," she says, shifting the camera angle to show you the device controlling your mind and body. "You're a fucking addict, aren't you?" You bite your lip, unable to deny that your addiction to the power of the sisterhood is becoming uncontrollable. "Yes," you finally admit, the tension in your chest making it difficult to breathe. "I am." Yvonne rises to her feet, her toned, muscular body standing before you. "Good. Now let's make that worse."

Suddenly you're at the beach, surrounded by women in bikinis and swimsuits. They all want you to do things for them.

You realize what's happening, but you cannot fight the compulsion to obey their every command. Even as your mind rebels against the idea, you cave to the urge to please them. You do whatever they tell you to do, getting them drinks, food, putting on lotion, oblivious to the world around you. You've lost yourself in a cycle of obedience and arousal, your every thought and desire guided by the sirens in your presence. When they're pleased with you they reward with a quick stroke to your erection or your nipple. If you fail you get a quick smack in the balls. You know that all of this is happening, but you can't do anything about it. You're trapped in the virtual reality simulation, powerless to resist your desires or their commands. As the hours pass, you lose track of time and reality. All that exists is your overwhelming need to submit to the women in you presence, and the endless pleasures they offer. Suddenly, the timer on the simulator beeps and abruptly cuts off.

Morgan and Yvonne aren't there, another member of the gym, a blonde in silver and blue spandex and pink lipstick is taking the equipment off. You hate this woman, she was spoiled, rude, would take equipment you were about to use.

But all you can think of know is that she was at the VR beach and would give you two strokes sometimes.

She giggles as you roll onto the floor, too weak and aroused to stand. "Hey, there, sweet thing," she says, her hands roaming over your body as you struggle to process what you're seeing. "Had fun with that?" You look up at her with a dazed expression, struggling to process the strange sights and sensations you've experienced. "What just happened?" you ask, barely able to form coherent thoughts. "That, my love." She says, kneeling down in front of you. "That was sisterhood training." She smiles and her eyes gleam with an intensity that sends a chill down your spine. "Now it's time for the real work to begin."

She walks you into another room and sits you down at a terminal. "Now, be a good boy and login to the Internet control network. You're going to hand us the keys to control men over the Internet."

You hesitate, knowing that you're giving her access to the secrets of the Internet, but the feeling of submission is still overwhelming. You hand over your phone and sign in to your account, allowing her to access the network. You feel dizzy as she shoves you out of the chairs and begins to input commands, setting up subtle viruses that will recruit women into the Sisterhood and subliminally make men aroused and submissive, just from using the Internet.

You want to try and stop her, but you also want to goon at her feet.

You're torn between wanting to resist and succumbing to the overwhelming desire to do whatever she tells you to do. Finally, you realize that you need to take action or else the sisterhood will take over the world with their twisted ideals. You take a deep breath and stand up, your next actions deliberate and determined. "That's enough," you say, your voice firm but calm. "I've had enough." The blonde stops and looks up at you, a malicious smile on her face. "What do you mean, Pug?" she asks, playing dumb to disguise her shock. "You know what I'm talking about," you say, your eyes narrowing. "Stop what you're doing and step away from that computer." The blonde laughs, the sound ringing through the room like a taunt. "I don't think so."

"Don't get me wrong Pug, you've been more resistant than most, but I don't think so." She stands up and presses her body against yours, and you feel your knees get weak. "You let yourself get strapped into a brainwashing machine because you got... " and she ruthlessly pressed her thigh between your legs, making you quiver like jelly " ... a hardon."

With a few strokes suddenly you're humping her legs while she giggles. "Now why should a gender of weak, pathetic, leg humping slaves be running anything?"

You struggle to pull yourself free from her grasp, feeling humiliated and powerless against her powerful hold. "I order you to stop," you say, but the intense pleasure of her touch makes it impossible for you to muster up the necessary willpower. Your voice wavers, and you feel a tear welling up in your eye. "I... I surrender." With that, you slump back to the floor, lost in your submission. "Good boy," she purrs, her hands tightening around your body. "Just accept it. Embrace it. Grow into it." You shake your head weakly, trying to resist her words. Behind her you hear a notification - her sisterhood virus is uploaded and spreading.

It's too late.