The following story is a great satirical fantasy and I enjoyed reading it immensely but I would never want any of My slaves to do anything that would lead to them being anything other than successful in all walks of life.  With that said… enjoy!

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“My name is John, and I’ve worshiped Goddess Marquesa for twelve years,” said the man at the podium.

“Hi John,” said the twelve men and three women seated in folding chairs arrayed facing the podium.

“I see some new faces tonight,” John observed, assuming an official air. “Welcome all. We were one of the first chapters of Goddess Anonymous here in the state. As you regular members know, the organization now has chapters in all fifty states and 35 countries overseas, and continues to grow. Our administrative costs are paid for by voluntary contributions, so if you can spare a dollar or two and would like to donate, we’ll pass the hat at the end of the meeting. Right now I would like to give the podium to a new member. When I step down please don’t be shy. If this is your first meeting come on up and share.”

John sat down, and a young man who looked to be about college age stepped hesitantly up to the podium.

“Hi everybody,” he said tentatively into the microphone. “My name is Alex, and I’ve worshiped Goddess Marquesa for six months.”

“Hi Alex,” the group intoned.

“I first saw some of her videos on YouTube. That led me to her website, where I began to purchase her recorded hypnosis sessions.”

Alex paused. He cleared his throat, seeming to have difficulty maintaining his composure.

“It’s all right,” John encouraged from the chair he had assumed after stepping down from the podium, “We’re here to listen. Anything you have to say is OK.” Nods and murmurs of agreement echoed John around the room.

“Well…,” Alex continued, his eyes filling with tears, “now Goddess Marquesa is all I can think about. I do one of her trances at least twice a day, and despite that I can’t stay focused on anything else. My schoolwork is suffering. I was fired from my job because I couldn’t stop daydreaming about her….”

John got up and walked over to give Alex a hug. “It’s OK,” he soothed. “We’ve all been there.” This was greeted with declarations of “Yes we have,” from around the room. “The important thing to stay focused on is how much you worship Goddess Marquesa, right?”

“Right!” declared the room.

“But what if I flunk out of school?” Alex asked.

“You’re not going to flunk out of school,” John replied, taking a didactic tone.

“I’m not?” Alex rejoined, hopeful but confused. “How can you be sure?”

“Because Goddess doesn’t want you to flunk!” John bellowed, eliciting a chorus of “That’s right!” and “Yes, sir!” from around the room.

“She doesn’t?”

“Of course not. The Goddess is as kind as She is beautiful. She wouldn’t want you to fail, for Her sake as much as yours. You can serve her better with a college degree than without one!”

“That’s good to know, but…..” Alex muttered, still uncertain.

“But, what?” John asked, his tone suggesting that he knew what Alex would say next.

“Knowing that She wants me to succeed doesn’t help if I can’t stop thinking about Her long enough to study.”

“But it can,” John explained, “as long as you remember a simple phrase: ‘I’m doing it for Goddess.’ Whenever there is something you need to do, and you have to find focus, keep saying that to yourself.”

“I’m doing it for Goddess….I’m doing it for Goddess…,” the room intoned in well-practiced unison.

Alex stopped crying and stood silent as a look of dawning awareness and relief spread across his features. “‘I’m doing it for Goddess’….Gee, I never thought of it that way,” he declared after a few moments. “Thanks!”

“Sure, kid,” John said, “That’s what this support group is all about!”

Applause echoed through the room as Alex returned to his seat, wiping his cheeks on his sleeve and grinning broadly.

“Who would like to be next?” John asked, surveying the room.

“You people are crazy,” a middle-aged man said from the back of the assembled chairs.

“What’s the problem?” John asked from the podium, looking to see where the words had come from. “If you want to speak come up front, everyone has a voice here. What’s your name, friend?”

“My name is Sam, but I’m not your friend,” the heckler rejoined, standing defiantly. “I said you people are crazy. I came here looking for a divorce support group…”

“That’s tomorrow night,” one of the regular GA attendees interjected.

“…and instead I find you wingnuts,” Sam continued. “You should be ashamed of yourselves, making such a fuss over one woman.”

Laughter broke out around the room. “Goddess Marquesa isn’t any woman,” Alex explained from his seat. “She is the most beautiful, most irresistible…”

“Horse pockey!” Sam declared. “I’ve never heard such nonsense in my life.”

“Show him a video,” someone suggested to murmurs of enthusiastic assent.

“Here, watch this,” John offered, holding out his smart phone with a pair of attached ear-buds.

“Don’t be a fool,” Sam said.

“What are you afraid of, Sam?” John asked. “If we are as crazy as you say we are, how can a few minutes viewing make any difference to you?”

As voices around the room said “That’s right!” Sam yielded to pressure and took the phone from John. Putting the ear buds in place, he hit “play.” A pair of uncommonly sexy legs filled the phone’s screen. As Sam watched, the woman on screen began to slither an amber-headed wand slowly up and down one smoothly-stockinged leg, as her richly velveteen voice coaxed him to relax and enjoy. In a few moments Sam became absorbed and sat back down to focus.

“Who’s next?” asked John when it was clear that the interruption had been calmed. A young woman came up to the podium.

“I’m Jeanine,” she spoke into the mic, her voice tremulous, “and I’ve worshiped Goddess Marquesa for three weeks.”

“Hi Jeanine,” the group sang out.

“I….I….I…love the Goddess so much….”

Jeanine became momentarily choked up, but murmurs of understanding and encouragement urged her on.

“I just feel like these feelings are all bottled up inside of me. There aren’t enough ways to express them,” Jeanine declared.

“Do you write the Goddess? Send her gifts?” one man asked.

“Of course.”

“Do you masturbate while fantasizing about her frequently?” another participant asked. “That’s very important.”

“Every day,” Jeanine answered, “sometimes two or three times.”

“Have you set up a shrine to her?” another man asked.

“A shrine?” Jeanine puzzled, “what do you mean?”

“You must build a shrine to the Goddess,” John explained, his tone conveying the patience one might show an errant child. “You need to have a place where you can focus your devotions and prayers.”

“Prayers?”

“Let’s show Jeanine what we mean,” John suggested. “This is a good time to break for some group meditation. Who would like to provide us with an icon?”

“I will!” Alex volunteered. From a briefcase he produced a large, framed, 8X11 portrait of Goddess Marquesa that showed her emerald eyes to stunning effect. “I keep this with me everywhere,” he explained as he set the portrait up on the podium facing the group.

When the portrait was in place all of the seated attendees got to their knees facing the podium. Following their example, Jeanine returned to her seat and knelt on the floor beside it.

“Let us recite the serenity prayer,” John instructed.

“Goddess Marquesa,” the group began in unison, “grant us the serenity to accept Your control, the strength to worship You as You deserve, and the wisdom to know how best to serve You. Amen.”

“Let us continue to pray silently,” John declared.

The group meditated silently, remaining on their knees. Some kept their eyes closed; others stared in rapt awe at the Goddess’s portrait. After a few minutes the silence was shattered when a door marked “Rest Room” off to one side of the room burst open with a loud crash. Sam emerged in a frenzy; he had slipped off unnoticed while Jeanine had been testifying. His eyes were wild, his shirt was half-untucked, a telltale stain was spreading on the front of his pants.

“My name is Sam,” he gasped after stumbling to the podium, “and I’ve worshiped Goddess Marquesa for twenty-five minutes.”

“Hi, Sam…”

The End