July 9th, 2025

Cynthia slammed the door to her modest cabin shut. She had been made. She didn’t know how, but Garcia must have gotten some advanced intelligence. For a moment she blamed herself for letting the recorder slip, but that wouldn’t have revealed her name. Garcia must have been onto her from the start.

She kneeled beside the metal bed frame and reached up to its underside, ripping her pack free from its tape cocoon. Unzipping the bag revealed passports in several identities, rolls of unmarked bills, and her standard-issue Glock 19 sidearm. 

Cynthia had hoped to gain more information before bringing charges against La Codicia and its captain, but she would have to make do with the evidence she had already collected, namely the recording and the coin. She pulled the coin from her pocket and studied it again. The small disc still bore Kelsey’s image, which absolutely baffled the agent. She had no idea La Codicia had access to technology this advanced. Her mission only pertained to financial crimes, not brainwashing and human trafficking. 

And what could explain this coin? 

Even now Cynthia could hardly pull her gaze from the shimmering surface. Somehow its weight in her hand just felt right, even if its incredible heat had dulled and the inexplicable cold had returned. Cynthia had brought down arms smuggling operations, advanced tech companies, even a few world governments, and yet she had never seen anything like this coin. 

Just holding it, she still felt strangely connected to Kelsey. Streams of hot water running across bare skin, a shower, Kelsey was bathing. Cynthia shook her head. She had to be imagining that. Then she felt the sensation of water droplets flying from wet hair. Kelsey had shaken her head too. No, that was impossible. 

Cynthia gripped the coin and concentrated on a simple suggestion. Send me a photo. There, when no photo came through, that would prove it was all in her head. 

Cynthia finished packing up her recording device and prepared to steal a lifeboat and make for the shore. Just as she rose from the floor her phone buzzed, Kelsey’s name flashing across the screen. With trembling fingers, Cynthia unlocked it, and an image of Kelsey’s naked, dripping body greeted her. 

The influencer stood in front of a mirror, all of her poise and confidence erased. She stood at attention, one shoulder drooped lower than the other, wet hair clinging to her cheek, mouth softly parted and eyes unfocused. The woman was utterly broken and totally hers. 

Kelsey had never looked more beautiful to Cynthia. The brunette didn’t even notice she was masturbating at first. Still holding the coin, two fingers had peeled away from the disc so she could rub herself over her slacks. When she realized, she only paused for a second, before resuming the gentle motion. Cynthia couldn’t help herself. She had never owned a person before and it just felt so . . . so . . .right. 

She gingerly lowered herself to her back and unzipped her pants. She let the phone fall to the floor, so she could slide a hand under the elastic of her panties and into her already wet folds. Cynthia knew she should stop, knew she should run, but that thrumming feeling of pleasure had returned and it made it hard to think of anything else.

Her fingers pumped in and out as her mind focused solely on Kelsey’s dazed expression. The heat radiating through her seemed to come as much from the coin as from her pussy. Everything felt right, felt perfect even. Why had Cynthia been worried? 

A third finger slipped inside as she grew wetter and wetter at the thought of her triumph. She had conquered this woman and deserved to own her, deserved to use her however she liked. After all, Kelsey was her property now.

That thought sent a shock through her system. She flung the coin across the room and pulled her hand free. What the fuck? Where had those thoughts come from? Cynthia slapped herself in the face. She had a duty to protect people, not enslave them. She took pride in that duty. She was the best. Clearly whatever brainwashing tech Garcia had used, must have influenced her as well. A lump formed in her throat. Could she even return to base like this? She could be compromised, a hapless sleeper agent waiting for orders from her Captain. 

Another slap.

Goddammit. Get it together, Cynthia. She was a federal agent, and not just any agent, but the fucking Giant Slayer. She had never failed a mission, and she wasn’t about to start now. She couldn’t leave without getting to the bottom of this slave ring. Who cared if her cover was blown, she would take the information by force if she had to. She took her side arm from the bag, slotted it into her holster and headed for the Captain’s room. 

Cynthia lingered in the doorway, before turning back and scooping the coin off the ground. It was important evidence after all, at least that was what she told herself. 

***

Cynthia approached down the hall and found two guards posted outside of Garcia’s office. She knew she could take them easily enough, but the commotion from fighting two at once risked alerting Garcia. She needed to pull one of them away. Then the idea occurred to her. She had other tools at her disposal. She took out the coin and concentrated. 

A few minutes later, Kelsey came sauntering down the corridor, clad once more in her pink polka-dot bikini, hair still wet. She walked right up to one of the guards, stopping in his space. 

“Excuse me, sir. I’m totes lost. Could you help me? They were supposed to take me back, now that I’m property,” she said, voice somewhere in between her usual energy and a vacant drawl. 

The guards exchanged looks and then one of them broke off and took Kelsey back the way she came.

For a moment, Cynthia felt guilty about using the influencer this way. But then that voice in her head reminded her that Kelsey was her property to be used however Cynthia saw fit. That sent another pulse of warmth running down her spine. The agent did her best to ignore the arousal as she greeted the remaining sentry. “I have a message for Garcia,” she said calmly. 

“He’s expecting . . .” was all the man could say, before Cynthia wrapped a hand around his neck. At the same time, she hooked her leg into his, sweeping him to the ground and choking him unconscious. It would take more than a couple guards to stop The Giant Slayer. She straightened her clothes and went inside. 

Captain Garcia looked up from his laptop with a warm smile as Cynthia entered. He sat in a plush arm chair at a heavy mahogany desk. A row of tall windows beyond revealed the waves gently lapping against the ship’s hull. “Ah there you are. I was beginning to grow concerned,” he said with genuine friendliness. 

Cynthia responded by drawing her gun and leveling it squarely at his head. “Don’t move or I’ll shoot,” she said with icy calm. She looked quickly around the room. Panels of deep brown wood with golden trim lined the walls, an oil painting of a ship centered in each panel. The man appeared to be alone. That would make this easier. 

“Now, now, Cynthia please, there is no need for such hostility among crew mates. Besides violence between us is pointless,” he answered, not seeming shaken in the slightest. 

“I’m not part of your crew. Now, talk. How did you know who I was?” 

Garcia gave a wry smile. “I told you I would explain, yes? How does the expression go? I was born at night, but I was not born last night. Or it is something like that.”

“Cut the crap,” she spat. 

“You see, good help can be so hard to find. A promising, pretty, young relationship manager applies to work for me, just weeks before our Miami launch party for the DaBloon coin? Right before we leave international waters for the first time in years? A raven haired beauty with a perfect resume comes to me all on her own? It is too good to be true, so we did some digging,” he said with a casual shrug. 

“So you knew the whole time?” Cynthia asked, confidence beginning to shake. “So why then? Why did you show me whatever the fuck you did to Kelsey?”

“What you did to Kelsey,” he corrected. 

“Shut up. You used me,” she said back, voice rising. Just the memory of that moment sent a pang of desire shooting through Cynthia, starting from her thigh where the coin brushed against her. “I would never have done that if I had known she would end up some brainwashed slave.”

“Cynthia, lying to your captain is a serious matter, but lying to yourself is far worse. You could have stopped at any time, but you did not,” he said slowly rising from his chair. “As I said, I was not born last night. I know that look in your eyes all too well, hunger, longing, desire.”

“I said don’t move!” She yelled, raising the gun. 

“But I do not take orders. I give them,” he said, calmly walking toward her. “You asked me why and so I will tell you. These DaBloons will take our operation far beyond what we have achieved in the past. Before our methods were so limited, only enslaving people with the coins themselves. The DaBloons lack some of the potency of the originals, but they carry enough power to enslave the wills of most people. The world is our oyster and I aim to pluck many pearls from it.”

Garcia had almost reached her. Cynthia’s hands quivered on the grip of her Glock. “I won’t . . . I won’t let you.” 

He chuckled. “No you won’t ‘let’ me, you will help me. I see it in you, that ambition. I was much the same when I was a younger man.” He came to a stop, the barrel of the gun resting against his chest. “We are the same, Cynthia. Join me.”

A bead of cold sweat rolled down the agent's temple. He was wrong. He had to be wrong. Yes, she had loved the touch of Kelsey’s tongue against her, but who wouldn’t? That look of complete surrender waited for her whenever she closed her eyes, but that didn’t make her a monster. No, she wouldn’t, she couldn’t. “I’ll never join you.” 

Cynthia pulled the trigger. 

—

July 14th, 2025

Cynthia strode into the conference room with impeccable poise. She remained completely calm in the face of the assembled might of the United States government, and took her place by the screen at the front, which displayed a slowly rotating image of a golden coin. “I apologize for the wait. I trust you’ve all had time to study the materials I prepared.” 

CIA Director Evelyn Douglas rolled her eyes and tucked a strand of her auburn hair back behind her glasses. “Cynthia, You’re lucky you’re my best agent. No one else could get the heads of the SEC, CIA, and The Joint Chiefs in one room on such short notice. And certainly no one else would dare keep us all waiting.” 

Cynthia looked back at Evelyn undisturbed. “If you’ve reviewed my information, then you know this meeting warranted the utmost urgency. Juan Garcia and the crew of La Codicia have developed brainwashing technology far beyond the known limits of the space. We have to take serious and immediate action to protect our interests.”

“This is bullshit,” interrupted General Marshal Fields, The Commander of The Joint Chiefs, as he slammed a uniformed fist down on the table. “I deal with credible threats to national security, agent. Do you honestly expect me to believe some crypto company had developed brainwashing technology that puts MK Ultra to shame?” 

“My reputation should speak for itself, when I say this will be the biggest bust of my entire career,” Cynthia answered calmly. “I witnessed firsthand, as an innocent bystander was brainwashed into a mindless drone.”

Monica Rivers, The SEC Director, raised a dark skinned hand. “And how does this relate to our financial system? I don’t fully understand why I needed to attend this meeting, Agent Nelson.”

“As I said, they intend to use the DaBloon cryptocurrency as a vehicle to smuggle their brainwashing technology onto the computers and phones of Americans everywhere. If they aren’t stopped, they will turn our entire country into their mindless slaves.”

Evelyn winced. “Cynthia, I’ve listened to your recording, and I admit it sounds unnerving," she said with an awkward pause. “But it mostly just sounded like sex. Do you have conclusive proof of this threat?”

The faintest hint of a smile appeared at the corner of Cynthia’s mouth. “In fact, I was able to recover a meaningful sample of their tech. If you look in the folders at your seats, you should each find a golden coin.” 

—

July 9th, 2025

Garcia tumbled to the ground. Cynthia would have preferred to capture him alive for interrogation, but killing him should at least put a stop to whatever La Codicia had planned. “I’ll never join you,” she repeated, as she stared down at the body

Then the captain sat up. “I was not asking.”

She started and fired again, planting the second round right between his eyes. He must have had a bullet proof vest, but nothing would stop a shot to the head. 

Garcia fell again, but quickly sat back up, no trace of the grievous wound that should have marred his face. “Are we done with our little tantrum or would you like to empty the clip?” 

Cynthia chose to empty the magazine, the sounds of gunfire echoing in the small room as she tried to choke down the panic in her chest. 

Yet, Garcia simply stood back up and loomed over her as if the lethal barrage had been a mere inconvenience. “You are a stubborn one,” he muttered. “Perhaps this will help you understand.” Then in a flash, he produced a knife from his pocket and stuck it into Cynthia’s side. 

The gun fell to the floor and Cynthia followed it a moment later. Her head still reeled, trying to understand how Garcia had survived. She looked down to her side, bracing for the sight of her own gushing blood, but saw none. In fact, she couldn’t find so much as a cut in her clothing. Slowly she made her way up to kneeling. “I’m alive,” she whispered. 

Garcia took advantage of her surprise and dug his fingers into her scalp, holding her in that kneeling position. “Actually, you are not. Neither am I.”

“I . . . I don’t understand,” she said, looking up at him with terror in her eyes. 

“I will explain no more, until you apologize for shooting your captain,” he said firmly, tightening his grip on her hair. 

“I’m sorry,” she said in a daze, mind spinning. Her eyes swept over the man before her, but found no trace of even a single bullet wound.

“I’m sorry, Captain,” he prodded. 

“I’m sorry, Captain,” she repeated, the fire of her resistance totally extinguished by terror and confusion.  

“Apology accepted. After all, bad blood between us would be no good. We will be together for a long time.” He forcibly turned Cynthia’s head so that she faced the row of paintings on the wall. “Tell me what you see.” 

Cynthia studied the images before her. They seemed to show large sailing ships, from different eras throughout history. The oldest showed a Spanish Galleon with a pirate flag. The series captured all manner of vessels, from cargo freighters to military destroyers. The newest image depicted La Codicia, the very mega-yacht they currently rode. “I see paintings of ships.”

“You see paintings of one ship,” he corrected. 

“One ship? No, that can’t be right. These designs are hundreds of years apart.”

“Would your captain lie to you? look around you. Really look.”

Cynthia stared at the wall more intently. The modern slabs of wood veneer morphed before her eyes into ornately carved wooden panels, splintering and falling apart from age. The sweeping curtain wall window transformed into a series of narrow openings with thick, wavy glass. The bright lights became gently swaying lanterns. She looked up toward the Captain, but found only a moss covered skeleton, wearing a moth bitten, ancient looking captain’s jacket. As she felt the bones digging into her scalp, she struggled to break free, but his grip held firm. After a blink the ship returned to normal and she ceased her thrashing. “This is impossible.”

“La Codicia and its crew have sailed the seas for centuries, always taking a new form to suit its era. Our hunger cannot die. This is our curse, a curse you already share.”

“Curse?” she repeated quietly. “Curses aren’t real.”

“And yet, here you sit, no blood. You used the stolen Aztec gold to take someone’s freedom away. You defiled their treasure just as we did all those years ago, when we raided that temple and killed the native priests for it.”

“I still don’t understand. What does some ancient treasure have to do with brainwashing people?” 

“You see, we took the most precious artifacts of these people. The priests with their dying breath cursed the treasure, so that any who took it would be trapped in an endless need to take more and more. We cannot die. We cannot ever know peace. Surely you have felt it, the bitter cold, yes?” 

Cynthia only responded with stunned silence. 

“This is the chill of death. It will consume you with suffering and despair. You can only stave it off by taking from another. Then for a brief moment, you can experience the rush of their life. In this way the dead priests turned us into their revenge on this cruel world. We started with simple raiding and pillaging. But over time, even that could not sate the emptiness. Eventually we realized that the magic of the coins could be used to take someone’s very sense of self. This is the sweetest fruit of all. The only heat warm enough to chase away the chill. That is the only way you can live now.”

Cynthia’s stomach hit the deck. Despite the madness spilling from Garcia’s mouth, she could no longer deny any of it. She had felt the thrill of absorbing Kelsey’s life force. “Oh my god,” she whimpered. 

“God cannot help you now. Only I can,” said Garcia with that smirk of his. 

“Why did you do this to me?” Cynthia snapped. “Why not just enslave me like you did to Kelsey?” She said, looking up at the man towering over her.

“I already told you, good help is so hard to find. Imagine my surprise when we realized you were ‘The Giant Slayer,’ the most infamous spy in the United States Government. Making you a mindless thrall would be such a waste. No, I want your service for all eternity.” 

“I’ll never . . I’ll never serve you,” she stammered. 

“But you will. I know the kind of person you are. One does not get a title like ‘Giant Slayer’ without that bottomless hunger. I do not know why you joined your government, but I know why you stayed. You love the thrill of the chase, the conquest, the feeling of having power over another. Am I wrong? 

Cynthia opened her mouth to object, but couldn’t bring herself to lie. “You’re right,” she whispered.

“You loved the feeling of power that the coin gave you, otherwise the curse would not have taken hold. Your pleasure cemented the control over your little friend and sealed your own fate.”

“It was my fault,” she said in a small voice. 

“It was your glory. Tell me honestly you do not revel in your power over her.”

Cynthia desperately wanted to object, but she couldn’t. The joy of dominating Kelsey easily eclipsed the rush of bringing down a crime ring or any of other storied accomplishments. “I can’t.”

Garcia released his hold on her hair, and brushed his hand tenderly across her cheek. “You must feel the strength of your first victim already fading, that cold settling in again. But I can help you, give you more gold and more people to feed on. Or you can rot in agony for eternity in the name of some hollow morality,” he said pausing for effect. “Well what will it be?”  

“I want more,” the words escaped her lips before she could even think about them. Part of her felt shame at how quickly she decided, but the thrumming of desire coursing through her made it no choice at all. 

“Then you will serve?” he asked expectantly. 

“I . . . will serve,” she whispered. 

“Then say ‘Yes Captain’, stand and salute.”

“Yes Captain,” Cynthia said, rising to her feet slowly and giving a dazed salute. 

 “Now strip for me.” 

“Excuse me?” Cynthia balked. 

“You said you would serve. Will you obey or shall I have you locked in the brig to be consumed by the chill?”

Already, she could feel the coin leaching the warmth out of her. She shuddered at the thought of how much worse it could get. “I’ll serve,” she said with resignation as she slowly began undoing the buttons of her shirt. A few moments later, the former agent stood before her new Captain. 

He ran a hand slowly up her side, gaze sweeping over every inch of her exposed skin, clearly evaluating his new prize. He took in her limber form, toned, slender legs coming together with a gap at her womanhood. His fingers traced appreciatively over her abs, honed from years of combat training. She only flinched slightly, when he reached the soft flesh of breasts and gave her nipple an experimental pinch. Finally, his forefinger settled below her chin and lifted her gaze to meet his own. “Yes, you make a wonderful prize, indeed.”

Cynthia considered headbutting him. Despite his size, she knew she could overpower him, but what would be the point? She couldn’t fight her way past a ship full of immortal pirates. And even if she did, she couldn’t escape the curse. As she considered her options, Garcia leaned down and kissed her. Cynthia started, but didn’t pull away. His lips felt surprisingly warm and his embrace firm. Dimly she wondered if that warmth had been leached from her. 

He broke the kiss and stared intensely into her eyes. “You still hesitate,” he said. 

“I failed. I’ve never failed a mission before,” she said, looking away. 

His thumb and forefinger took her chin and brought her eyes back to meet his. “Oh my dear, you are thinking too small. You want power and greatness and control, and I shall give you those things. Your greatest achievements for your country will pale in comparison to things we will do together. You have not failed. You have become immortal. The true era of your dominance begins now.”

Those words did stoke something within Cynthia. She had always measured her worth by the scale of her accomplishments. The thought that she could still be great, could still be The Giant Slayer, gave her some comfort. 

“There is that spark behind your eyes. Your greatest days are ahead of you and they shall be countless. Let me tell you of your first mission for me,” Garcia leaned close and whispered in Cynthia’s ear. 

She gasped when she heard the plan. “Oh Captain, that is devious.” She made her peace in that moment. She hadn’t failed, she had merely joined the winning team. 

“Now kiss me, like you mean it,” he growled. 

“Yes, Captain,” Cynthia answered before bringing their lips together again. This time she had no hesitation. Her tongue pressed into his mouth and danced with his. She did it to convince herself of her new loyalties as much as to convince him. 

He spoke first, when they finally separated. 

“Your new self deserves a good christening, before you set out on your first journey.” Garcia said with a smile before he took Cynthia’s hand and led her to his bed chamber. 

—

July 14th, 2025

“I’d like you to hold up the coins and study them closely,” Cynthia said, perfectly masking the malice of her suggestion. Monica and Evelyn did so, raising their golden discs up to the light and studying them. “That’s it. You both can see now how beautiful and captivating these coins can be. Even now you find yourselves unable to look away,” she said. Sure enough both women’s eyes began to droop. 

“This is ridiculous,” snapped General Fields. “It’s a hunk of metal, nothing more.”

Cynthia crossed the room to stand behind him at the table. She casually picked the coin up and dangled it in front of his eyes. “I understand your skepticism, General. Allow me to demonstrate for you.” The coin began to spin in slow, lazy circles. 

“Allow your focus to narrow to just the coin,” Cynthia continued. “Every flash of the metal sends the rest of the world further and further away, until there’s only the coin and the sound of my voice.”

“Now that you mention it, there is something unusual about this thing,” the general muttered. 

“I’m glad you think so, Marshal. I knew you would understand. The more you look and the more you listen, the easier it gets to understand, the easier it gets to accept my words as the truth. In fact, Evelyn and Monica, you find the same thing. With every passing second, my words feel easier to accept,” Cynthia continued, already feeling a blush of heat beginning to thaw her frigid fingers.  

Two women’s voices responded with soft mumbles of agreement. 

“That’s perfect. You all trust me completely. You believe me completely. Say you trust me,” Cynthia ordered. 

“We trust you,” all three responded at once.

A wicked grin crossed Cynthia’s face. “In fact, you trust me so much that it’s easier to accept my words than think for yourselves. You don’t think at all anymore. You just let me think for you. That way you can just keep staring and obeying. Say ‘you think for me’, now.”

“You think for me,” they all answered. 

Cynthia took a moment to admire her handiwork. The General was hunched over the desk, bending toward the coin. Cynthia experimentally moved it from side to side and was pleased to watch him follow it. She decided to start with him. “Stand at attention, General.”

Wordlessly the middle aged man rose to his feet and came to perfect attention. 

“Very good, but that wasn’t what I meant.” Her hand began stroking him over his pants. “Now stand at attention for me,” Cynthia repeated. She smirked as she felt him harden under her touch. “We’ll put that little soldier to good use later. You have to make me cum to seal my control. So unfair, I know. But you won’t mind.”

No response. 

“My wrist is getting awfully tired, hold this up for me,” she commanded, extending the coin. The General took it and raised it to his own eyes. 

“Such a good, obedient boy. Now strip and kneel, while I deal with the other two.” As General Fields began to obey, Cynthia moved on to Director Monica Rivers. Her full lips hung open, a thin trail of drool puddling on her white blouse. “Monica, can you hear me?”

“Yes,” came the dull response. 

“You serve and obey me now, Monica. No resistance, no hesitation, only obedience,” Cynthia instructed slowly. 

“Only Obedience,” The Director parroted back. 

“Good girl. Now strip and kneel beside General Fields,” she commanded. Only her former boss remained. 

Cynthia walked slowly behind Director Evelyn Walters. The red-headed woman’s glasses practically dangled from her nose as her head hung low. Cynthia gave her a small push, knocking the glasses off and onto the table. The older woman didn’t react at all. “Admit you always took me and my talents for granted, Evelyn.”

“I always took you for granted,” Evelyn said without thought. 

“Well, glad we’re on the same page about that. Don’t worry though, my new employer treats me much better. You’ll see, since you work for me now,” Cynthia whispered into Evelyn’s ear. 

“I work for you now,” Evelyn said, never looking away from the coin. 

“In fact you don’t just work for me. You belong to me,” Cynthia said with gleeful satisfaction, savoring the heat of Evelyn’s life force dripping into her. 

“I belong to you.” 

“Such a good girl. You know the drill by now, strip and kneel with the others. Then we’ll get to making our new arrangements permanent.”

Cynthia took special satisfaction in watching her old boss submit. Her figure looked good for a woman in her fifties. She had ample curves with breasts and an ass to match. She may not have taken care of herself the way Cynthia would, but that couldn’t spoil the beauty of her natural proportions. After a few moments the head of the CIA stood stark naked and walked over to the front of the room, kneeling beside the others who already held their coins at eye level again. 

Cynthia admired her latest conquests and felt alive again. Marshal maintained an impressive physique for an older man. The size of his raging erection and blank, vacant stare made Cynthia eager for the next part of her mission. Her gaze turned to Monica, who was still drooling, now onto her petite breasts. She sported a more slender build, but Cynthia found her lithe silhouette elegant. Besides, Cynthia mostly planned to put those lips of hers to work. Evelyn’s breasts bounced as she kneeled. Cynthia couldn’t wait to bury her face between them, but she had one thing to take care of first. “You can come in, Captain,” she yelled.  

A few moments later, Captain Juan Garcia entered the conference room with a couple of slack jawed secret service agents in tow. He took in the scene before him.

Cynthia knelt in front of the naked trio. “Mission accomplished, Captain.”

 “Excellent work, as expected of my new first mate,” Garcia said, beaming with pride. 

“Thank you, captain,” Cynthia purred. 

And that was how The Giant Slayer brought down her biggest target of all, the very government she once served.