The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Lips of an Angel”

With an almost imperceptible scraping sound, the acoustic tile shifted to create a gap in the ceiling. A figure slipped through that gap, dropping down into the silent darkness of the offices with only another barely noticeable sound to mark its arrival. It moved swiftly and quietly through the maze of cubicles, a shadow among shadows, stalking with quiet purpose as it headed towards a single desk.

The figure stopped as it reached its destination. Quietly, it removed a set of tools from a low-slung utility belt and unlocked first one drawer, then another. Only the tiniest of clicks betrayed the action. A moment later, there was another tiny click and a beam of light broke the darkness, sweeping over one document after another, looking for something that the silent figure knew must be there...

The lights came on. “That’s, um...that’s a new look for you,” WildRose said, breaking the silence with a sentence she was already mentally reeling back into her mouth. She was hoping for something a little more intimidating for her opening line, maybe something kind of cute and witty like ‘Even Angels fall when I’m done with them,’ but as always, her mouth was moving just a little bit faster than her brain and she said the first thing that popped into her head.

The woman she was waiting for spun around, an expression of shock on her face. Her close-cropped dark hair made her gray eyes look even wider as she stared at WildRose in wary confusion. She tensed her body, the metal claws at her fingertips glinting as they popped out from her dark grey gloves. She wore a top that matched the gloves, chosen to blend into the shadows, with only a light gray halo and wings stenciled over the chest to break up the uniformity of the outfit. Her boots were gray, even her utility belt was gray...

But she wasn’t wearing any pants.

No underpants, either. From the waist to the knees, she was completely nude, her crotch shaved clean so that WildRose could see her smooth and glistening mound. She’d fought plenty of female criminals who tried to use their sexuality to distract enemies; but even by those standards, this was definitely an unusual sartorial choice for a supervillainess.

“You’re the Dirty Angel, right?” she asked, as much to buy time as anything else. Sharpe had already gone over all the likely candidates for the recent rash of thefts at Genefit corporate offices, and she’d included plenty of pictures of everyone WildRose was likely to run into on her stakeout. Admittedly, none of them looked quite like this, but...

“I thought you’d reformed,” she said, talking quickly to cover her uncertainty. She didn’t like it when weird shit happened while she was on the case; it never turned out to be something she could just ignore. “Thought the Justice Underground got you away from the whole ‘rob from the rich, give to yourself’ schtick and on to socially acceptable crimes like vigilantism. Guess I was wrong, huh?”

The Angel glanced around anxiously, her body tense with a strange nervous energy that was weirding WildRose right the fuck out. She wished her partner Sharpe had been able to get that wireless camera working, just so that she didn’t think WildRose was completely nuts. “You don’t understand,” the Angel muttered, her hand absently drifting down between her legs. For a second it looked like those claws were going to do a little inadvertent damage, but she slid them back in as she began to rub her shining pussy.

And it was shining, WildRose noticed. So were her thighs. The other woman’s crotch was practically coated in slick fluids, the liquid slowly trickling from her labia to roll slowly down her legs. Every time she moved, she smeared it into a sticky mess that made her body gleam and glisten under the harsh office lighting. WildRose didn’t consider herself sexually inexperienced...or untalented for that matter. But she had never even seen a woman that goddamn wet, let alone made it happen.

Which meant that they were well into weird shit. “Sharpe,” she said sotto voce, letting her throat mike pick up the subvocalized words, “poke around for any mind-controlling supervillains active in Samson City right now. Emphasis on anyone with an ability and/or interest in inducing intense arousal, maybe exhibitionism. I know she’s got a rep for seducing her opponents, but I don’t think Dirty Angel is acting like this by herself.” In a louder voice, she said, “What don’t I understand? Is someone making you do this?”

“No, it’s not—” The Dirty Angel looked down for a fraction of a second in surprise, and pulled her hand away. “You don’t understand!” she said urgently. “I just, I need you to go away and let me think for a second!” She snarled in frustration, rubbing her thighs together in what looked like a purely unconscious motion. “Goddamn it, I just need to find out where they moved the, the thing, the project, the...” She reached down and began fingering herself again, humping her hand with sudden urgency. “FUCK!”

“Ohhhhh...kaaaaay...” WildRose muttered, edging slowly away from the other woman before she even realized she was doing it. She forced herself to stop, then to move closer instead. Angel Lady might be crazy, but WildRose had fought crazier. Hell, her therapist would probably argue she was crazier. “Sharpe, I need some answers here,” she muttered quietly but sharply. “Something’s seriously wrong with this chick. She’s half-naked, and she’s playing with herself in the middle of committing a major felony. That can’t be a deliberate decision on her part, right?“

Sharpe’s voice finally crackled in her ear. “It’s certainly not her usual M.O.,” she replied in wry tones. “The only problem is, we have no suspects. Sangria was spotted in Belgium three hours ago, MistressMind and Technophile are both doing a stretch in the Tomb’s ubermax wing, Cobra Queen is being kept under heavy sedation by Doctor Frontier, and Professor Psycho is missing presumed dead after that incident with the Darkwarp Concordance. I could go on, but you get the idea. Everyone’s accounted for.”

“Must be someone new,” WildRose grumbled. “I’ll see if I can get more out of her.” She approached a little closer still, fighting all of her body’s instincts that were telling her that she was making a mistake even if she didn’t know what it was yet. “I need you to focus,” she said, trying to make her tone as comforting as possible. Not that WildRose did ‘comforting’ well—she probably sounded more like she was asking for directions in a foreign country. Still, it couldn’t hurt to try. “I need you to tell me what’s happening to you.”

“Oh fuck, I...” This close, WildRose could actually smell the musk of the Dirty Angel’s dripping pussy. The scent of sex wafted off of her in waves as she pounded three fingers in and out of her wet snatch. “I just, I can’t think, I need to, oh goddamn it! I need to cum, I just need to fucking fuck oh fuck!” The Angel’s face was contorted in a mix of frustration and undisguised lust as she fingered herself. WildRose felt a surge of instinctive sympathy for her.

“You’re not making sense,” WildRose said, stepping in to within arm’s reach. “Is someone controlling you? Can you tell me that much?” She knew that she was within range of a slash from those claws, but she didn’t really expect the Angel to do anything. She was clearly too distracted at the moment. And distracting, WildRose admitted to herself. She’d never seen someone so turned on before, not even Sharpe when WildRose devoted an entire night to it. This girl was drooling from her pussy lips to the point where it was dripping onto the floor. WildRose tried to pretend not to notice that she felt a little bit of moisture herself.

“No, I—” The Angel hopped back onto the desk and spread her legs wide, giving her fingers better access to her cunt. “They caught up with me, I was looking for...for proof, but I found a—a—” She groaned, rubbing the heel of her hand hard against her clit. “I found a thing, alright! I can’t describe it, I can’t think, I’m not brainwashed I just can’t fucking think!” There was a little puddle on the desk now where her pussy was leaking all over it. WildRose suddenly noticed that she was licking her lips.

WildRose stepped closer again. Too close, probably; at this distance, she was leaving herself wide open to about thirteen different kicks, punches and throws. But it was obvious that the Dirty Angel was completely lost in the throes of her frantic masturbation session. WildRose couldn’t help but feel sorry for the poor woman. It was obvious that she was stuck and couldn’t get herself off. Her nipples were stiff and obvious under her top, and her labia were gleaming and shining with slick juices as her fingers went around and around on the slippery skin. The smell was powerful, intense, like someone had bottled pure sex and turned it into a perfume. WildRose took a deep breath, unable to help savoring the bouquet just a little.

Sharpe’s voice interrupted her train of thought. “What’s happening?” she asked. “I got no cameras in there, Rose, you need to be my eyes. What’s going on?” WildRose frowned, blinking hard. This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of it was. They were supposed to be fighting, or maybe Angel was supposed to be running and WildRose was supposed to be chasing her. She wasn’t supposed to be standing right next to her target, staring at her pussy and watching those fingers dip in and out, in and out, each time squishing and dribbling out more arousal. She wasn’t supposed to feel sorry for the bad guy because they couldn’t cum on their own. Because they needed more than just fingers, they needed...the thought trailed away into confusion. WildRose realized she hadn’t moved in almost a full minute.

“It’s...something’s funny,” WildRose said softly, not sure whether she was talking to Sharpe or to herself. “Something’s...” She struggled to find another word, but all she could think about suddenly was those fingers, that motion, that scent. The scent was everywhere now. It was in her nostrils, in her lungs, in her blood. It was filling her up. “...funny,” she finished, leaning in to take a closer look at Angel’s pussy.

She only meant to look a little closer. Just a quick peek, to see if a detailed examination of Angel’s pussy might shed some kind of light on the strange situation. But the closer she got, the better it smelled, and the better it smelled, the closer she wanted to get, until without even realizing it her face was mere inches away from those glistening, shining lips and she couldn’t even blink anymore. She was so close that the Dirty Angel barely even had to whisper for her to hear. “Help me...”

And then WildRose was tasting her. There was no memory of hesitation, no struggle between her legendary willpower and the allure of soft, wet flesh. There was just a moment where she was staring and then suddenly the salty, musky fluid on her tongue and she was licking it up, flicking away at the nub of Angel’s clit as she moaned under her breath. She tried to apologize to Sharpe, but her mouth was busy smearing Angel’s juices all over her face as she kissed those sweet lips between Angel’s thighs and it all just came out as a series of mumbled groans of pleasure.

She heard Sharpe in her ear, yelling something, but WildRose couldn’t really parse it as words right now. She was impossibly distracted by the other woman’s taste. It was even purer on her tongue than it had been as an aroma, a distillation of 180-proof lust and need and brain-melting sex that she guzzled greedily from the source. She knew that her lover had figured out what was going on—she had a IQ that was well north of 300 and had heard WildRose licking pussy before, she had to realize what was happening. But she couldn’t make herself care, let alone stop. The Dirty Angel just tasted so fucking good.

And WildRose was helping, too. She could tell. Angel’s moans were getting deeper, more urgent, louder and louder as she ground herself against WildRose’s face. WildRose responded by spiking her tongue deeper, using it like a tiny cock and fucking Angel with it as hard as she could. Her mouth was sealed in a desperate kiss against Angel’s labia, her nostrils were filled with erotic perfume. She wanted to make the pretty girl cum. She needed to make her happy, and making her happy would make WildRose happy too.

WildRose felt Angel’s legs wrap around her head, but all that meant was that she was engulfed by the sensations. The smell was all around her, Angel’s thighs were coated with it and they smeared sticky fluids into her hair and her neck. WildRose knew she was going to come home smelling like sex, but she couldn’t connect the thought to anything with any kind of importance. She would smell like sex and that would be good, because she would smell like Angel and Angel smelled so perfect that she just wanted to breathe her in forever. WildRose noticed that her hand was inside her waistband, fingering in time with her probing tongue, but she couldn’t remember when she’d done it. The gaps in her memory were getting bigger, and they were all filled with that same scent.

And then Angel yelled in an uninhibited shout of pure orgasmic release, and the flow went momentarily from a trickle to a gush onto WildRose’s face. Angel’s thighs squeezed tightly for a divine moment before releasing, pulling back to leave WildRose staring drunkenly up at the other woman. “Thank you so much,” Angel said. Her voice sounded different. It was calmer and more relaxed, almost musical. “You’ve been a very big help. Can I ask you to help me just a bit more?”

WildRose nodded, her head bobbing up and down like a puppet on a string. “Good girl!” Angel said, and the fingers that WildRose had almost forgotten clenched hard around her pussy in a sudden orgasm. “I just need you to help me open this desk and take a look around for any papers with the word ‘Astarte’ on them. Oh, and if anyone tries to stop us, I need you to knock them out. As carefully as you can, please. We don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

WildRose’s face spread into a dreamy smile without any real effort on her part as she said, “Okay!” She heard Sharpe in her ear telling her to stop and demanding to know what was going on, but it was all just silly yammering. WildRose shut it out. Her new friend needed her! She took out her own set of lock-picking tools and got to work.

It only took them a few minutes to open up the drawers, and working together they were able to sort through all the paperwork in less than half an hour. But there were no references to ‘Astarte’ anywhere. “Thank you anyway,” Angel said, a dejected expression on her face. “You’ve been a big help tonight. Why don’t you go home and take it easy for a little bit, okay? You’re probably feeling a bit fuzzy right now, and I’d hate to see you go out fighting crime and getting hurt.” She gave WildRose a tiny kiss on the cheek that sent a tingle all the way down to WildRose’s clit.

Then she was across the room, and making an easy leap back up into the hole she used to enter. “Will I see you again?” WildRose asked, unable to help herself.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Angel said, popping her head back down for just a moment, “but I kind of hope not.”

WildRose frowned and started to head back the way she came as well, but then the room suddenly took a few spins for her and she decided to just sit for a moment until some of the fuzziness cleared. And then she could head home and take it easy for a little bit. She didn’t know why, but that sounded absolutely perfect.

* * *

Sharpe had been training with WildRose for over two years now, practicing in the dojo for three hours every week as well as putting in some independent study with her lover when the two of them weren’t fooling around. She could probably take on an average thug or henchman without too much trouble. Even so, her reflexes and skills weren’t anywhere near good enough to give her even a chance in a fight with WildRose.

So when Sharpe took an open-handed swing at her the second she got home, WildRose had to consciously let herself be slapped.

“I deserve that,” she said contritely, peeling off her sticky jumpsuit and throwing it down the laundry chute. She would have to be careful washing it later; it was saturated with whatever the hell the Dirty Angel had used to drug her into obedience. She’d spent the whole way home half-floating, with little wafts of that sensual aroma drifting into her nostrils and triggering lazy reveries that had damn near caused her to crash her car. She’d actually had to pull over somewhere secluded and take a nap with the windows open to get it out of her system. It definitely needed to go in as its own load, water conservation be damned.

“Damn fucking right you do,” Sharpe snapped. Her cheeks were puffy and red from where she’d been crying. WildRose wanted to enfold her lover in her arms, tell her that she was impossibly sorry, but she wasn’t sure that Sharpe was even ready to want that yet. WildRose had gotten her brain smacked around by mind controllers before, had even gotten into some compromising situations before she’d managed to get the upper hand, but this was the first time Sharpe had been forced to hear all the awkward details. WildRose could only imagine how wounded she was feeling right now.

Which was why the cotton swabs were something of a surprise. “Fucking goddamn asshole,” Sharpe grumbled, as she dabbed away at WildRose’s face and hair before dropping each swab in its own numbered baggie. “’Oh, it’s not my fault that my ‘indomitable willpower’ just happens to fail me when it comes to eating out a cute girl who’s all lithe and athletic and has those long muscle-y legs I like so much, I just couldn’t help myself!’” WildRose wanted to protest that Sharpe was doing a terrible impression of her, but this didn’t seem like the time.

But she felt like she had to say something. “I really am sorry, Sarra,” she said, the words falling inadequately out of her mouth to land with a limp thud. “It was just so...sudden. I don’t even remember realizing that she was doing something to me. Just one second I felt normal, and the next...” She trailed off, not wanting to subject Sharpe to all the gory details just yet.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever,” Sharpe said, looking like she was about to burst into tears again at any moment. “Just go take a shower while I analyze this stuff in the portable lab, okay? We’re probably going to have make-up sex later, and I don’t want to fucking smell her on you.” Slightly relieved, WildRose took the hint and departed.

Ten minutes of incredibly vigorous scrubbing later, she emerged with her skin bright pink to find Sharpe examining some lab results with an absorbed look on her face. She was typing notes on a laptop with one hand, muttering to herself in a mental shorthand that probably only made sense if you had an IQ so high you had to write your own IQ tests just to challenge yourself.

She looked up when she saw WildRose standing over her shoulder. “You’re officially forgiven,” she said, reaching up to pull the other woman down into a gentle kiss. “I ran a gas chromatograph analysis of the bodily fluids I swabbed off of you, and...wow. That shit can put the hoodoo on you, no question. It’s a cocktail of powerful sex pheromones, hormones that stimulate the centers governing trust and love, peptides that shut down the critical thinking faculties—pretty much a grab-bag of everything you’d want if you were custom-tailoring a chemical weapon designed to reduce a human being to horny, subservient mush. Complete with an aerosolized delivery system. Elementary biology says that you, my love, did not stand a fucking snowball’s chance.”

WildRose wasn’t sure what made her happier, Sharpe’s words or the way that she looked at her with a mixture of pity and affection when she said it. “But this isn’t in her dossier, right?” she asked, setting aside her relief to concentrate on the case. “I mean, they talked about her using seduction to manipulate her targets, but we’d know if she could do this before now. This is something new. And judging by the way she was acting, she’s as much a victim of it as anything else.”

“Yeah, I have a hypothesis about that,” Sharpe said, scrolling up through the notes on her laptop. “I think she’s being partially affected by the hormone cocktail as well. Not fully, I suspect she’s got some resistance because they’re hormones that she’s actually producing, but I think she has trouble keeping her neuro-peptides in a stable balance.” She stopped dead for a moment. “Plus she’s got to be dehydrated as hell. Um...so anyway, she has trouble thinking straight when she’s horny, and she’s pumping out enough of this shit that she’s almost always horny.”

WildRose nodded. “She did seem to suddenly be a different person when she came.”

“Sexual satiety,” Sharpe said, adding a few chemical symbols to that section of the notes. “Probably the only thing that even temporarily stabilizes the hormone balance in her brain. That’s good. You can use that against her.”

“Wait, what, me?” WildRose raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You really want me to go back after her? I figured you were going to go find one of your robot buddies online to swoop in and take her down.”

Sharpe shook her head. “Nah. First,” she said, holding up a finger, “the nearest reliabe robot superhero who isn’t so massively overdesigned as to have a neural network susceptible to hormone control—and this is not the time to get me started on a rant about ‘wetware’, do not get me started on another goddamn rant about ‘wetware’—is in Cleveland. Even if they didn’t have anything going and could drop everything to help us, they wouldn’t get here until tomorrow.”

She held up a second finger. “That’s bad because second, does anyone in this room really think it’s a coincidence that the woman who’s suddenly a walking biochemical dirty bomb...um, no pun intended...for the brainwashing set is breaking into a genetics company looking for industrial secrets? She stumbled onto something, it changed her into this, and now she’s trying to find a way to fix herself. Meaning something is rotten in the state of Genefit, and we need to treat this as a race against time. Because probably they’re after Angel the same way she’s after them. They can’t afford to have walking evidence that they’re working on this shit.”

She held up a third finger. “And third...this is our city, and we don’t goddamn well go running for help whenever shit gets hairy, got it? I don’t care who the bad guy thinks they are, we’re WildRose and Sharpe and we don’t need help from anyone.”

She paused, blushing. “...not unless it involves an army of killer robots, or something. I mean, we’re not stupid.”

“So what’s the plan?” WildRose asked. “Because we’ve already established that I have no defense against this stuff. Pep-talks aside, we need an actual plan here.”

Sharpe reached into the bag next to the portable lab and pulled out what looked like a SCUBA mask. “Portable bio-hazard gear,” she said. “For when you absolutely positively have to analyze the weird toxin that killed the last person who tried to analyze it. The filters on this will block her pussy mojo just fine. You go get some sleep, then you catch up with her at her next destination—I’ve marked it out, she’s moving in a very predictable pattern, probably because she’s not thinking clearly—and take her down while she’s too horny to function effectively. Then you get her locked down in a safehouse out of the way.”

Sharpe began packing up the lab gear. “Meanwhile, I’ll go back to my panic room and dig into Genefit and Project Astarte. I should be able to make their computers sit up and beg right around the same time you’re putting the Dirty Angel down for the count. Sounds good?”

WildRose smiled. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

“Excellent.” Sharpe pulled her in for a long, deep kiss. “First, though...I think we have some make-up sex to get to.”

* * *

Of course, the plan went right the fuck to hell within the first thirty seconds.

WildRose arrived at the Genefit Industrial Park on Talos Avenue right on time, just around the point that the employees were going home for the day. She was expecting to have to slip past a few security guards and some white-collar schlubs who had a deadline to get to, the same kind of people who didn’t even know she was in the building yesterday.

Instead, a dozen heavily armed five-man squads patrolled the building on a regular schedule, each one wired into a communications network allowing them to summon backup to their location within seconds. They all had bio-hazard filters over their faces that suggested they’d already been briefed on their target and her capabilities. And judging by the way they behaved when they saw WildRose, they were operating on black ops protocols of ‘shoot first, poke bodies with gun muzzles later’.

Not that they were enough to stop her. Sharpe squelched their comlinks, and WildRose took out any groups that were between her and the R&D labs. They were at a disadvantage, after all—they had to worry about hitting each other, while she could choose her spot and wade in without having to care about collateral damage. Of any kind. (Besides, that guy probably wanted a new monitor anyway. Who still used CRT in this day and age?)

But it took time, and WildRose had the sick feeling in her gut as she loped down the hallway leading to the labs that one way or another, she was running out of it fast. The building was buzzing like a hornet’s nest with mercenaries who knew that someone had gotten in, even if they didn’t know who or where, and that meant that Dirty Angel was in far more danger than she realized. If she thought she was just hitting a normal building, and they got to her—

WildRose stopped dead. Or that. That could also happen.

The R&D labs were a scene of chaos. Bullet holes riddled the walls, several small fires had broken out where gunfire had hit something flammable or volatile, and four mercenaries lay sprawled in various positions that suggested that WildRose wasn’t the only one able to handle herself in a fight. And the fifth...he was lying on the floor, his gas mask missing. The Dirty Angel was straddling his hips, pumping up and down as her moans turned to screams that WildRose found unnervingly familiar.

She made a wild sprint at the two of them, but Angel must have already gotten her rocks off because she rolled off of her semi-conscious partner with astonishing agility to come up into a fighting stance. “I really should have told you to stay away,” she said, a note of regret in her voice. “This isn’t your fight.”

“Wouldn’t have worked,” WildRose said, enunciating the words with extra care so they could be heard through the filtration mask. “I’m not the type to run from a fight, and your sex fog bullshit wore off a while ago.” More quietly, she said to Sharpe, “We need a Plan B, ASAP. She’s already taken care of her distractions and she’s smart enough to go for the mask. I don’t think I can reason with her because, well, you know me. Any ideas?”

Sharpe’s voice came through the ear mike, sounding calm and confident. “Working on Plan BSAP now. Give me half a moment, I’m into Genefit’s corporate database and looking for goodies. Have you at least made the token attempt at reasoning with her yet?”

“Trying it now,” WildRose said quietly. Louder, she said, “Look, we figured out what Genefit did to you. We want to help you. But—”

Angel quirked an eyebrow in confusion. “Who’s we?”

“My partner Sharpe and I.” WildRose froze in shock as she heard the words escape her lips. Why the hell had she said that? Jesus, she’d taken a bullet from Exhume rather than admit to Sharpe’s existence, and now she was just volunteering the information?

Sharpe noticed too. “Rose, that didn’t sound like you. Can you check the seals on that mask for me? If she gets the idea that I know something, she might decide that it’s easier to enslave us both and make us do her dirty work...again, pun not intended goddamnit.”

WildRose made a quick pat of the mask. Nothing seemed out of place, but... “Oh, is that what you’re worried about?” Angel asked, a look of calculated innocence on your face. “You’re worried that you’re breathing me in and it’s making your mind all fuzzy...and foggy...and blissfully eager to please?” She chuckled. WildRose didn’t like the sound of that laugh. Either they were wrong about her being an innocent victim of circumstance, or she was starting to enjoy this a little too much.

“Because you said that it wore off,” Angel continued, coming closer and closer with a slinky sway of her hips in each step. “And if it wore off, and you’ve got that gas mask on, well then. There’s nothing you need to worry about. You’re not in my power at all. But if that’s the case, well...why did you answer my question so freely? Why are you just standing there and watching me? And the big question...what would you do if I asked you to take that mask off?”

WildRose heard Sharpe in her ear, but her whole body seemed to be paralyzed with indecision. She could feel something tugging at the back of her mind like the ghost of a feeling that she only remembered forgetting. A sweet, submissive pull on her mind, whispering that it felt so nice to listen and trust and please...next to that, Sharpe’s words seemed distant and meaningless. She was shouting something dull and pointless like, “Abort, Rose, Plan BSAP is abort. Get the hell out of there, I was wrong, you’re already compromised. Get out before she asks you to—”

And then Angel spoke, drowning out everything else in her head. “Could you please take that mask off? Then we can talk a little better.”

WildRose took the mask off.

It didn’t feel like she was going fuzzy at all. It felt like the world was coming back into focus, and the center of that focus was Angel. She was so beautiful, so sweet and sensuous, and WildRose took breath after deep, heady breath of her scent and smiled wide as it filled her lungs. Her eyes seemed to drift easily and naturally to the source of the aroma, that smooth and slick and shining pussy that looked so perfect when it was exposed like that. WildRose felt like she wanted to stare at it forever.

Angel came closer still, so close that they were almost touching. WildRose ached to move those last few inches, but she understood that her purpose was to please and not pleasure right now. “There,” Angel asked, her voice more musical than ever, “that’s better. We can talk a little more openly, can’t we?” WildRose nodded blankly. “Now can you tell me more about Sharpe? You said you and her knew something about Genefit. What have you learned?”

“Hang on,” WildRose said, pulling out her earpiece and dropping it to the floor. She stepped on it hard, crushing it to pieces. “There. Now she can’t hear us.” She beamed at her own cleverness. “She’s a computer hacker, she’s working on hacking into Genefit to find out what they did to you so that she can reverse it. She’s very smart, too. She suggested that you should command me to take her to her secret hideout so that you can enslave her, and then we can both help you find a way to fix this while you stay safe so Genefit can’t hurt you.”

“That is clever!” Angel said, a smile breaking out on her own face. “I’ll be honest—even though my change does have some...advantages...” She giggled, tapping WildRose’s nose with a slightly wrinkled finger. “I don’t want to stay like this. Let’s go with Miss Sharpe’s very clever plan, shall we? Do you know where her ‘secret hideout’ is?”

“Uh-huh!” WildRose exclaimed with childlike enthusiasm. The day Sharpe had trusted her enough to take her back to Sharpe’s actual home, rather than meeting at the dojo or any one of a dozen safehouses, was one of the most prized memories of their whole relationship. But now it just seemed like the perfect opportunity to please Angel. WildRose knew Sharpe would be angry at first, of course. But once she got the chance to taste Angel’s pussy, WildRose was certain she would understand.

They made it out of the building with only one or two more fights—Angel made WildRose stay put while she did the fighting, which kind of annoyed WildRose until she felt the room lurch a little and remembered just how drunk on pussy she really was. Then WildRose took Angel back to her car and they headed out towards the suburbs. Angel drove, WildRose navigated. “After all, sweetie,” Angel said, “I really shouldn’t let you drive in your current condition.”

They pulled up to a modest bungalow in a sea of similar suburban houses, and WildRose led the way. “Sharpe’s got all sorts of clever defenses,” she whispered conspiratorially. “But she taught me how to disable them all.” She reached out and tripped a hidden switch, then tapped in a code on a concealed keypad. She opened the door and reached around before opening it to tap a button that was just out of view. Then she led Angel into the house itself.

“Come on,” WildRose whispered giddily. “The panic room is in the basement. That way you can’t see it from the outside.” She knew that Sharpe must know they were coming by now, she had cameras everywhere, but she also knew that Sharpe wouldn’t run. Sharpe wouldn’t abandon her as long as she thought there was a chance of fixing things, and that was just what WildRose was going to use to bring her into Angel’s service. Maybe they could just fix Angel enough so that she only enslaved them, and then they could be hers forever. That sounded so nice that WildRose couldn’t help rubbing herself through her costume as they approached.

“Here we are,” WildRose said, “Sharpe’s secret hideout. Knock knock!” She laughed, the dizzy feeling momentarily overwhelming her, before shifting aside a disused Soloflex machine and typing in a twenty-digit code that had taken her several days to memorize into the keypad concealed beneath it. The door slid open, and the two women went inside.

The door slid shut behind them again after they went through, which WildRose thought was just perfect because it meant that the room would fill up even quicker with Angel’s sexy fog. “Please don’t be mad, honey,” she said as she approached the chair where Sharpe sat with her back to them, watching their approach on a bank of monitors. “I did this for you. Being obedient feels so nice that I just had to let you experience it. We’re going to help her get fixed up, and beat Genefit, and then we’re going to be her pussyslaves for the rest of our lives and—”

She spun the chair around. There was a mannequin sitting in it. A note pinned to its chest said, “SORRY.”

“What the fuck—” was all WildRose had time to get out before the mannequin’s head exploded into a thick, choking gas and she lost consciousness.

* * *

When she woke, it was in a hospital that went beyond ultra-modern into some sort of uber-hyper-mega-ultimate modern. Everything was white and gleaming, even the bedpans. Sharpe was sitting next to her, looking concerned but not anxious. When she saw WildRose’s eyes open, she said, “You owe me a house, honey.”

WildRose frowned in confusion. “Where am I? How long was I out?” she said through a throat that sounded thick and gunky.

“You’re at the Frontier Foundation. And not long, about three days,” Sharpe said. “Doctor Frontier had to run you through some really cool blood-washing machines to get all the funky neuro-peptides out of your system so that you didn’t just snap back to Sex Kitten mode as soon as you woke up. You had to be unconscious so they could do stuff to your brain without your brain getting in the way. It’s all the kind of boring and technical stuff that usually makes you want to hit people, so I’ll spare you the details.”

“And...her?” WildRose didn’t trust herself to say the name without swearing. “What happened to us? I remember a big doll...”

“Oh, that!” Sharpe grinned the extra-smug grin of a genius about to explain their own cleverness. “While you were taking that shower of yours, I did run that analysis I told you about. But I also realized that Angel’s hormones had bonded to the receptor sites in your brain, which meant that you’d probably have trouble resisting her even if you could avoid getting a fresh dose. You were absolutely useless as an effective crimefighter, so I decided to go with the real Plan B. I fed you information that I knew you would cheerfully volunteer to the Dirty Angel as soon as she got her hooks in you again, and that led her into a trap. Her and you, sorry. Well, mostly sorry.”

WildRose sighed in defeat. “Nah, I’d have screwed me over the exact same way if I was you. At least we got her.” She paused as sudden panic hit her. “We did get her, right?”

“Yep!” Sharpe said brightly. “She’s in an isolation ward having her genes rekinked—turned out Project Astarte was some sort of fucked up utopian biowarfare project, the kind of thing that killed free will but left people standing. Angel was investigating, she got dosed with one of their mutagens, and the rest is history. Specifically, the rest is history that is now open-sourced to the Internet tanking Genefit’s stock prices while they undergo a full federal inquiry into their business practices, but that’s why you leave the devious sinister corporations to people like me.”

“Oh God,” WildRose said, putting her head into her hands. “You are going to be smug about this for weeks.”

“Damn straight I am,” Sharpe said. “I saved the day, beat the bad guys, and rescued you from a fate that was...okay, substantially better than death but still not what you really wanted. You’re lucky to have me.”

WildRose sat up, despite the protests of her stiff muscles, and planted a kiss on her lover’s mouth. “Don’t I know it,” she said as she came up for air. “I really am sorry I let her get to me again.”

“I already told you, you’re forgiven,” Sharpe replied. “Which isn’t to say that there’s not room enough in that hospital bed for a little more make-up sex.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” WildRose said, pulling back the sheets and doffing her gown. If she wanted to get back to her fighting prime after three days of inactivity, she needed to do a little physical therapy first.

THE END