Trouble Is Spelled With An H
© S.B. 2025 All Rights Reserved.
Reproduction and distribution of this writing without the author’s written permission is prohibited. This writing is not to be included in any publication – free or otherwise -, except the author’s self-published works.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All the characters are over 18.
“Fuck you!”
“Yeah? Fuck you too!”
“How could you, Heather? Have you got no shame?”
“I was doing you a favor, sis! That jerk is no good for you, and now you know it, too. You should be thanking me instead of yelling at me!”
“Oh, fuck off!”
“You first, ungrateful piece of shit!”
It was never a good day when twins Harriet and Heather Harcombe had a fight, and it happened a lot. Once best friends, their tolerance for one another had grown thin during their teenage years and was now almost non-existent. Their pile of bad blood included everything from petty grievances to betrayals of the highest order, and once a new crisis got started, de-escalation was near impossible.
Harriet’s face was red with anger. She turned on her heel, the venomous words still hanging in the air, and stormed out of Heather’s apartment, slamming the door with such force that the framed pictures on the walls feared for their continued existence.
She needed to get away, to escape the suffocating intensity of that space, filled with memories both cherished and tainted.
The chill of the Autumn air hit her like a slap as she stepped into the evening gloom. Dark clouds loomed overhead, promising impending rain, and a howling wind whipped around her legs as she walked down the narrow street. With each step, a river of anger coursed through her veins; it was like a wild beast trying to escape its cage.
“Goddammit!” she shouted into the nocturnal sky before pulling out a cigarette from the back pocket of her frayed jeans. The sudden influx of nicotine would cool her spirit for a bit, but it wasn’t enough – she needed to go shopping!
* * *
Francis Hayes was lounging on the sofa, getting ready to watch the basketball playoffs when he heard a loud knock on the back door.
He paused, brow furrowing in confusion. Who could it be at this hour? He was about to ignore it when the knocking came again, more insistent this time. With a resigned sigh, Francis got up and ambled to the door, the sounds from his TV fading into the background.
He swung the door open to see Harriet standing there, her expression still clouded by frustration. In each hand, she clutched a watermelon – vibrant green and glossy under the dim streetlight, their weight causing her arms to strain.
“Harriet, is it really you?” he asked, befuddled.
“Of course, it’s me, dumbass!” she replied.
“Then why are you knocking? I gave you a key!”
“I don’t know where I put it,” she frowned. “May I come in?”
“Of course, but I thought…”
“We’ll get to that in a minute, okay? These things are heavy!”
The fruits came with a story, a memory from her mother. Whenever she was feeling down, a watermelon smoothie always made her smile, and she needed that more than ever.
Harriet dropped the watermelons on the kitchen table and stared at her boyfriend who was also to blame for her troubled state of mind.
“Harriet, I…” he mumbled as he locked the door behind him.
“If you’re going to say you’re sorry, don’t,” she looked away. “I’m already used to Heather’s antics, but I expected more from you! How couldn’t you tell me it wasn’t me?”
“Because you two are identical and I was a little tipsy! I didn’t mean it, I swear!”
“Identical?” Harriet scoffed. “We’re physically very similar yes, but quite different in everything else. Her voice is different and so are her mannerisms. You should have realized something was wrong!”
“She made a perfect impression of you…” Francis bit his lip and shook his head. “By the time I came to my senses, it was already too late.”
“Hypnotized and fucked by her… Fantastic!” Harriet exclaimed, barely resisting the temptation of grabbing one watermelon and smashing it against the TV. “That was our thing, Francis! And now it’s ruined!”
Francis took a step closer his heart pounding after her outburst. “It can still be our thing,” he said, his voice softer now but tinged with desperation. “What happened between Heather and I meant nothing to me. You’re the one I love.”
Harriet’s eyes narrowed, brimming with hurt and indignation. She shook her head, the fiery strands of her hair catching the light from above, framing her face like a wild halo. “Love? Is that what you call it?” she spat. “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have been fooled by her stupid seduction games.”
“I do love you, and I’ll do anything you want to prove it,” he said, his back pressed against the kitchen door. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”
Harriet’s glare was as sharp as shards of glass, cutting through the remnants of their once-happy relationship. She crossed her arms over her chest, the watermelons forgotten behind her.
“Anything?” she echoed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Do you mean it? In that case, I want to fuck you harder than ever before – your body and your mind! I want to erase that bitch from your memory and you’re going to let me do it or this is the end of the line for us.”
“Okay,” Francis nodded. “I’m game. Do your worst and punish me for being a terrible boyfriend. You mean the world to me, Harriet. I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”
“Good,” Harriet smirked. She stepped forward, her fingers curling around the collar of Francis’s green T-shirt. She yanked him toward her with a strength that surprised them both, her eyes blazing like funeral pyres reaching for the stars.
Harriet dragged him to the bedroom, her heart ablaze with anger and desire. Without hesitation, she pushed him onto the bed. “Let’s see how much you want this,” she said, unbuttoning his trousers and pulling them down to his ankles. She then did the same to his boxers, and his cock shot upward almost immediately.
She grinned, her emerald eyes flashing with malevolent glee. “I see you’re more than ready. But I want more!” she said, undoing her top.
Francis’s jaw dropped as her full breasts bounced free, the pink nipples hardening under his heated gaze. The sight of them was almost too much to bear.
“Do you want to fuck these, Francis? Do you want to fuck them now?”
“Y-yes, Harriet,” he gasped, his hands twitching as if he wanted to touch her but was afraid to move without permission.
“Don’t even think about it!” she snapped, grabbing his wrists and pinning them above his head. “You’re not in control here tonight, Francis. I am, and you know what I like. Only hypnotized cocks get to fuck my boobs and what happens when your cock is hypnotized?”
“My mind follows…” he muttered, his arousal already out of control. All the triggers inside his subconscious mind exploded his eyelids fluttering. Trance was already sinking in, a direct consequence of months and months of conditioning at every waking hour.
“That’s right, bitch! God, I can’t believe you fell for the same trick twice!”
“What?”
Francis blinked, confusion washing over him like cold water. The room around him spun as he was being pulled into a trance. Her voice echoed in his ears, a sinister melody that twisted the truth to her heart’s content.
“H-Heather?” his voice trailed off, the cruel realization of her deception making his stomach churn.
“The one and only, but now it’s too late for you, fuckboy!”
She touched his forehead and snapped her fingers, freezing his thoughts. Caught in a hypnotic web once again, he remained still, his tumescent organ ready to be straddled… or worse.
“My sister trained you well…” Heather chuckled. “Too bad your mind can’t tell the difference between us. Don’t move because things are about to get messy.”
Heather strolled out of the room, a satisfied smirk dancing on her lips as she reveled in her hypnotic control. Returning to the kitchen, she grabbed the heaviest watermelon and carved a hole in it with a sharp knife. When she was satisfied with her work, she returned to her entranced toy and held the glistening fruit above his cock.
“No boobs or pussy for you tonight, slut!” she declared. “This is the only thing you get to fuck and Harriet is going to be pissed!”
A tear rolled down Francis’ left cheek as she lowered the carved fruit onto his hard cock and commanded him to pump it for her amusement until he came. Powerless to resist, the entranced man bit his tongue in pain as the watermelon shell crushed his balls.
Heather put on her top again and grabbed her phone to record his ordeal for posterity. Fucking with her twin never got old and she would keep doing it with pride, for in her world trouble was spelled with a capital H until the end of time.
“Fuck it, slave! Fuck it good!” she laughed, the rectangular glowing screen capturing his debasement. The sheets became juicy red.
THE END
A new daily challenge. The goal is to create 365 new pieces of flash fiction dealing with themes of femdom, hypnosis, and mind control. Inspiration will come from all over the place, including your suggestions. Credit will be given to everyone who suggests something for me to write about.
I’m doing a test run of this feature in January 2025 to prove I can do it. If you want the challenge to continue until the end of the year, help me achieve my Patreon goal of $250 a month.
