General Disclaimers: While it features no ‘on-screen’ sexual activity or explicit adult situations, this hypnofetish story does contain examples of fictional characters doing illegal, immoral and/or impossible things to other fictional characters. If you are under the age of consent in your community, are disturbed by such concepts, or want graphic sex in your pornography, then for goshsakes stop reading now!

Permission granted to re-post for free to any electronic medium, as long as no one's being charged to view it, and this disclaimer and e-mail address ( are not removed. It would also be nice if you told me you were posting it.

Copyright ‘FMCU’ and Voyer, 2002.

Specific Disclaimers: As noted in the copyright statement, 90% of this chapter was written by a site-visitor and long-time Dr. Fang fan who wishes to go by the nom-de-net FMCU. (He says that some of you out there may know him as the author of some stories about a certain Cabal that likes to enslave barefooted women...) I, Voyer, contributed and tweaked a few things here and there, but if you enjoy what follows, it is the work of another man, and I will pass on any responses to him.

“Lu Fan, you have failed me.”

The statement was made barely above a whisper, but the power behind the words struck the named recipient like a blow. One Eye Chan, who joined him in his groveling on the carpeted floor, could only whimper. Lu Fan, being the braver of the two, found his voice and spoke.

“Dr. Fang...your humble servants beg forgiveness....Commander Amazing surprised us in the warehouse....he was too strong for us.”

Fang looked at his minions without expression. Inside, he was nearly as emotionless, allowing only one tiny pinpoint of rage to burn, a laser beam kept forever ready for surgical cutting. It was not aimed solely at the two worthless worms cowering before him. He was not at all above admitting when he himself had made a mistake, and he now saw that sending Jinn to deal with the satellite situation had been an error on his own part. Leaving these two in charge of an operation of this importance, at this stage in his plans... The result? An entire cohort of his dreaded Dark Lotus Tong dead, hospitalized, or in the hands of the ETC. It would take precious time to infiltrate another cohort into the country, time he no longer had. His hour rapidly approached. Fortunately an alternative had presented itself.

Lu Fan could not take the silence. “Please make our death quick, Doctor.”

His minion’s plea broke Dr. Fang’s reverie. He looked down at the two prostrate assassins. One must make do with what is available. He spoke with his usual icy self control: “No, it is not your times... yet. Get up and look at the monitor.” The two henchmen sighed with relief and quickly got to their feet and did as they were bid.

The ornate wall print slid open, revealing a large TV screen, which flickered to life. It was showing a prerecorded local news segment, plastered with the usual station logos and gibberish that further befouled the cesspool that was American television. The camera was showing the faces of some pretty young ladies. A male reporter’s voice gushed: “You probably think these beauties are supermodels, or may be Hollywood starlets. Well...You’d be totally wrong.!”

The story then cut to a full length shot of one of the women, an Amazonian woman with reddish-blonde hair. She was wearing a white karate outfit. A pair of hands came from off camera holding a plank of wood. Suddenly, the woman yelled “Hiyah!!” and broke the plank with a bare foot. The reporter started again: “Meet the Piranha Bees, an all-female martial arts team in town for the week. They’ve done incredible exhibitions at schools, half times, and other venues across the nation. We talked to Wendy Tanaka, the coach, or ‘senseii’, of the team. She’s taken her girls from humble beginnings in a YWCA in Detroit to their present roster of twenty gorgeous black belts. We asked her how the team got started.”

The screen changed to show a pretty Japanese American woman with high cheeks and a bob of lustrous black hair. She said: “I wanted to give women a chance to learn, and then to teach other women that we can all be strong, self reliant and proud. Karate provided a perfect tool to do so.”

As these words were spoken, Dr. Fang slid a finger across a control mounted on the arm of his throne. The frame froze, and he spoke to his henchmen. “You will bring this charming woman to me tonight.” He then pointed at them. “But remember, if you fail me again, I shall send you both to the hell of a thousand needles.” He then dismissed them with a flick of a wave. Once they were gone he looked back at the still frozen image of Wendy Tanaka and doled out to himself a single small smile. Symmetry. He owed it to Miss Tanaka to cure her of this western infection of feminism. In return he would have a new cohort, one far more loyal, brave and obedient than the Dark Lotus Tong.

Wendy Tanaka slowly floated back to awareness. Her head was still groggy from whatever she had been injected with. Her first sensation was of her bare feet sinking in plush carpet. Hands with iron grips held her in a standing position. Wendy realized she was still in her team uniform and that her wrists and ankles were tied. The cords were tight, but strangely soft, as if made of silk... As her eyes began to clear, she saw she was in a windowless room decorated with fine art. Chinese. Slender jade vases and prints of a tree-lined river, snow-topped mountains floating off in the background. An tall ornate throne with carved red dragons loomed up across from her.

Wendy glanced to her sides and saw the two quivering Chinese...? Yes, again, Chinese men that had abducted her from the gym. They had posed as businessmen innocently seeking autographs. She saw with some satisfaction that the one with the eye patch seemed to have a broken, bloody nose. Apparently she had managed to put up some fight.

She was about to resume that struggling and screaming when there was the sudden loud crash from a gong. She and her captors all instinctively looked to their left, where the sound had come from. A sliding panel whisked itself away to reveal a stone corridor, only partially lit by some dim source of light. Then a tall thin figure entered the room out of that near-blackness.

Wendy was speechless and could only look at the man. He was somehow both skeletal and vital, like the victim of horrible consuming fever. It was impossible to judge his age; he could have been a sick thirty or a well-preserved ninety. He seemed Asian, but unlike the two men who were holding her, his exact ethnicity wasn’t immediately clear, hidden in the sharp angles that made up his face. He wore a strange black skull cap, which covered whatever hair he might have had, while draped around his angular body was an embroidered gray-green robe of the finest silk that stretched to the floor, concealing his shoes. This created the illusion that he floated across the floor to the throne. He seated himself, placed his arms on those of the throne, gripping at the front curls with his knuckles as if trying to prevent something from escaping. Only then did he turn his half closed black gaze towards her.

The young woman found her voice after a couple of tries. “Who are you....and what are you going to do with me?”

The man answered in a cultured but cold tone. “I am known as Dr. Fang. You are here because I have need of you, and of your students.” Wendy tried to think through the fog as the last of the drug wafted through her system. She remembered reading some articles by a lady reporter about some sort of sinister supervillain by that name. She decided to try to keep him talking.

“Need for us? To do what?”

Instead of answering, he extended a long finger in her direction, fully opened his eyes, and commanded: “Look in my eyes”.

Despite herself, Wendy looked. They were the most interesting eyes she had ever seen. At first, she thought they were just black. As she gazed, she saw there were flecks of green and gold in them as well. Green and gold and other colors...

She couldn’t look away.

Fang continued in a slow measured pace. “Look deeper....deeper....there is nothing in your universe but my eyes, my voice.” His voice, which had seemed had earlier seemed so icy and distant, now wrapped itself around her like a warm blanket. A sea of drowsiness seemed to be washing over her, one slow rippling wave at a time. Everything in the room other than the owner of those eyes faded from her consciousness. He no longer looked like a enflamed animated skeleton. He was now the most beautiful entity in the universe, towering, perfect, robed in shimmering rainbows...

“As you gaze, you fall into a deep, deep sleep where your mind and will fade away. Sleep now...sleep.” At these words her eyes closed and her head bowed down until her chin touched her chest.

Dr. Fang gestured to Lu Fan, and the two aides quickly untied the girl’s wrists and ankles. Her arms dangled freely to her sides, but she remained standing without support. Fang then continued. “Yes, now you are asleep, deeply asleep. But in a moment you will open your eyes. You will act and talk, you will function, just as if you were awake. But your mind and will shall remain deeply asleep. Now... Miss Tanaka... open your eyes.”

Wendy’s head came up and her eyes opened to a unblinking stare into space. Her lips were slightly open and her arms remained loose at her sides.

Fang was pleased. The enslaving of a beautiful woman was one of his greatest joys. The woman was fairly strong-willed, as such things went, but her disorientation had made her into an easy hypnotic subject. Now she was entranced, there would be no further resistance from this one. He turned his attention to fully molding her into an instrument of his will.

“Look at me.” The girl’s gaze focused on the doctor. “Step closer, and kneel at the feet of your master, Miss Tanaka.” Stiffly, Wendy stepped closer and kneeled in front of the throne. Throughout, she never took her eyes off Fang’s face. She gazed up at him with entranced adoration. He lifted one of his hands, curled it around the back of her head, brushed her hair with his fingertips as he spoke and she replied..

“Dr. Fang is your are his slave.”

“Dr. Fang is my master....I am his slave.”

“You have no mind or will of your own.”

“I have no mind or will of my own.”

“You will obey Dr. Fang’s slightest command... even unto death.”

“I will obey Dr. Fang’s slightest command... even unto death.”

Satisfied, Fang relaxed a fraction. He withdrew his arm and leaned back into the throne. In a more conversational tone, he continued: “You will go now with Lu Fan.” He jabbed a finger at the man, the thrust of a dagger, and Lu Fan flinched. “He will return you to the place from where you were taken. You will follow his instructions. After he has left you, you will awaken with no memory of me or your abduction. You will only be aware of being pleasantly tired and wanting to go back to your room and sleep. You will be alone in your room at 9 AM exactly. I will call you.”

The girl whispered in reply: “You will call me.”

“You will hear my voice. When you hear my voice say the word ‘concubine’ your mind and will shall again sink into a deep sleep...and you will obey. What will you do when you hear me say ‘concubine’?”

“I will sleep. I will obey.” Wendy’s voice was absolutely submissive now.

“Excellent.” Another smile.

Wendy smiled as she hung up the hotel room phone. She had just finished talking to a reporter from the city’s largest paper, a Miss Johanson. The Times wanted to do a big Sunday feature on the Piranha Bees. The reporter was going to be at the gym after practice and she was bringing a photographer.

The news had lifted Wendy’s spirits. She had spent a difficult night tossing and turning, slipping through an endless series of dreams about a strange room and a piercing pair of eyes. Hopefully, her revived spirits would carry her through practice.

For the tenth time that morning she found her eyes drawn the cheap clock sitting on the night-stand by the bed. “Why do I keep doing that?” she spoke aloud to herself. She wasn’t running late. She was already dressed except for her street sandals.

Then the phone rang again, and her hand was automatically reaching to answer it. Only then, suddenly, did she feel panicked. A small screaming voice in her head said that she should run away and not stop running. But still that hand moved, smooth and relentless, picking up the receiver, lifting it to her ear. She heard a strange set of clicks, as if the call was being relayed from more than one location. Wendy gathered herself and spoke into the phone.


There were odd echos of her voice, and then:

“Is this the lovely Miss Tanaka?” The voice seemed familiar, somehow connected to those dreams...

“Yes?” Her voice was a mix of apprehension and confusion and... and...?

“Are you ready to be my concubine?”

Wendy’s face lost all expression as all of her worries faded away. Tonelessly, she replied: “I sleep. I obey.” The voice said other things, spoke for several minutes. She listened, then the voice was finished with her, dismissed her. She dropped the receiver to the bed. She stood and walked to the door, grabbing her hand bag on the way. The sandals lay forgotten as she padded into the hotel hallway towards the elevator.

Later that morning, the Piranha Bees began to file into their practice room, a borrowed dance studio at the gym with wall mirrors and rails. Getting into their suits, some of them had been whispering about their coach’s odd mood this morning. Normally friendly and gregarious, Miss Tanaka had barely spoken to them and seemed distant. As they walked into the studio they were surprised to see a large screen TV at the far end of the room, connected to a collection of portable sound equipment and a DVD player. Stranger still, squat incense pots had been placed around the room. A heavy sweet smoke issued from their throats in sluggish coils, the smell omnipresent and pungent.

Miss Tanaka sat in front of the TV, her back to the team, her legs curled up tightly in the lotus position. Once they were all in the room, she told them to assume rest position. Each of the twenty beauties kneeled on the mat, resting on the back of their heels. Still without turning around, their senseii spoke again:

“These last months, we have worked so hard to perfect your bodies, but I now realize that we have ignored your mental states. Today, rather than practicing karate, I will show you the way to spiritual fitness. Let us begin. Close your eyes.” Wendy spoke in a calm monotone, as if she was already deep in meditation

Most of the girls were stunned. They had a major exhibition that evening at the city university and they had been practicing a new routine. But team discipline held, and they each closed their eyes without protest. Their confusion was enhanced by the incense, which was making them light-headed. Before they could reflect on the implications, their coach spoke again:

“Now. I want you to take a deep, cleansing breath. Hold it. Now... release. Again. Again. Again...”

The “breathing exercise” was having its intended effect of saturating the drug into the girl’s systems. After about ten breathes, Wendy untied her legs, stood, turned and looked at the team, her hands at her sides, her eyes aware but completely empty. She looked at each face, one at a time. They were heavily under the opiate derivative’s effects, swaying. A thought checked itself off in her mind. She went to the wall, snapped the lock shut on the door and dimmed the lights.

Returning to the front of the room, she turned on the DVD and the TV. She resumed her position in front of the screen. The screen was dark for a moment, then, suddenly, lights exploded outward, and the multicolored flashes filled the room, bouncing back and forth a thousand times in all of the mirrors. At the center of the screen, shapes formed, spirals and wet dripping columns all intertwined and spilling endlessly into one another. From the speakers, pulsating music began to play, intrumentless, electronic, pounding into the brain like a jackhammer. Wendy’s lips moved, formed words:

“Open your eyes. Look at the colors. Listen to the music.”

Within moments each girl was gazing unblinkingly into the screen while swaying slightly to the music. The music throbbed and throbbed, and then from the middle of it all, a new voice began to emerge. Cold and hard and powerful. The voice of Dr. Fang.

“Now your mind and your will are deeply asleep. You see only the beauty. You hear only my voice. And you are ready to obey.”

All of the girls, including Wendy answered as one: “Obey.”

An angry Hildy Johanson was staring at an empty dance studio. It was really empty, stripped down to the last wire, with only an odd but vaguely familiar smell lingering in the air. It was bad enough to be doing a fluff piece about an all girl karate team. Since the Commander and Jimmy had destroyed the “Dark Lotus Tong” in the “Battle of the Waterfront” there had been few real stories. Even covering the city’s official and massive New Year’s celebrations would have been better than this, and now the karate team was standing her up! Her thoughts were interrupted when Lindy McDougal, the Times’ grizzled veteran news photographer, came stumbling into the room. His clothes and white hair were in disarray, and blood trickled from a busted lip.

“Lindy! Good grief, what happened to you?” Hildy asked, producing a Kleenex from her purse and giving it to him to sop up some of the damage.

“I got here about a half hour ago. I figured I’d get here early get some shots of the chic- uh...” Even under the circumstances, he saw her expression and rolled his eyes. “Women practicing. Instead I find them walking like zombies into a black bus. I go over to their coach and ask her ‘what about the interview?’. She ignores me, and just keeps walking. When I try to follow her unto the bus, the driver jumps up and gets in my face. Chinese guy with an eye patch. Next thing I know, he punches me and throws me down, hard....I guess I hit my head on landing. When I came to, the bus was gone but I saw your car.”

Hildy was stunned. She remembered one of the crooks at the burning warehouse had one eye. Could some of the villains have escaped? And what would they want with an all girl karate team?

She made a decision on a single decisive moment. She opened her cell phone and pushed the speed dial.

“Hello, this is Hildy. I need to talk to the Commander, right away.”

To be continued?

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