The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

And so this is what it’s come to, Flora thought, dropping a few more coins into the slot. The shutter rose again, revealing the two women on the slowly revolving circular stage.

A couple had recently fucked inside the booth Flora was sitting in. She could smell it. It had been years since she’d last fucked a man, but she still remembered the difference between the scent of solo male jerking, and what sex smelled like. She wondered whether they’d done it up against the wall, on the floor, or in the very chair she was sitting in now with her hand down her panties.

This was what it had come to, getting off to peepshow girls on a sweltering Saturday night. She was just like her cunt, no, she was her cunt—a black hole that sucked in and devoured everything she ever wanted, touched, or, it sometimes seemed, even so much as looked at. Men hadn’t been able to understand what she needed—even the ones in the fetish clubs had been posers, underneath their expensive, well-maintained leather, believing they could seduce her with their status or their money and never realizing what a turn-off it had been to her to realize that sex, for them, was just a game rather than an art, a pastime rather than a way of life. Women, though they had been better able to comprehend the finer nuances of her sexuality, had been frightened by the sheer level of her drive and intimidated by her continuous craving for newer, stranger experiences. Each of them had taken one look into that abyss, and turned the other way and ran. Everything she ever enjoyed seemed to come with a “Use Once And Destroy” label on it.

One woman on the stage had on black high heels, black slacks which were unzipped to let a strapped-on glass dildo poke out, an unbuttoned tuxedo jacket with no shirt on underneath, a white oval of a Venetian mask with a poppy red slash of lipstick defining the mouth, and a top hat from which a glittery red veil trailed down her back. The other woman wore nothing but a white lace bra, high heeled sandals, and a kaleidoscopic collection of abstract tattoos. The second woman, at the moment, was being released from her hog-tied position upon the circular, satin-and-fur-draped bed, only to be placed up on all fours and spanked with an old-fashioned ivory hairbrush. The masked woman made it last, so long that Flora had to deposit more coins into the slot, pausing between smacks to rub and press and lift each of the tattooed woman’s buttocks with the back of the brush before striking again. By the time she was done, Flora could tell that the tattooed girl was not feigning or playing up her pain for the viewers. And maybe that hairbrush wasn’t so old-fashioned after all—the ivory handle was dildo-shaped. While the tattooed woman bowed her body forward, laying her tits flat against the bed and offering her slit to be filled, the masked woman did just that, and the piped-in techno-jazz played inside Flora’s booth. Flora leaned back in her seat, sprawled her legs out as wide as she could in the cramped space, and brought herself off to a lingeringly deep orgasm.

For once, it was perfect timing—a few moments after she finished, the shutter slid closed, leaving the booth in darkness. She kept rubbing, and had a shorter, softer climax a few seconds later—the kind she liked to refer to as an “aftershock orgasm” in her mind. After that, she decided she would pace herself tonight, now that she had taken the initial edge off of her sexual tension. She stood up, reached up her skirt, slid her panties down to her ankles, kicked them off into a corner of the booth, and left.

Meridiana benevolently considered her two servants. Tree and Ahulani were all but bouncing with anticipation. If they pleased her as well tonight as they always had, then this was to be a most special night for the two of them—even more so than either of them guessed, she was sure.

“Find me one more Earth girl,” she told the two sisters, “and you’ll both be rewarded with the third and final bite.”

“And then we’ll be like you,” said Ahulani in a hushed tone.

“Yes, and if you can persuade this one to stay with us, then we can depart for Quirin first thing in the morning, as well.”

Ahulani looked wistful then, obviously thinking of their home planet.

“Can I play with the girl first, before we present her to you?” Tree asked.

“You got the others to me in one piece, so I don’t see why not,” laughed the vampire.

Flora walked across the street to a gas station, where she gave the clerk a good long flash of her sopping cunt by standing with her feet slightly apart and bending over to pretend to look at something on a bottom shelf while her miniskirt rode up the backs of her thighs. Once she knew she had his attention, she did it again a minute or two later and also dropped her wallet so she could allow him a glimpse of her cleavage. In the end, she didn’t get anything off of the shelves, but bought one of the fetish mags sitting on a rack in red cellophane behind the counter. The clerk’s eyes followed her to the bathroom, and she was sure he knew she was sitting in there masturbating, to a picture of a woman in a gas mask, heels, and rubber corset, hanging from a noose, wrists bound with black tape.

So much for pacing herself. She wiped the come off her inner thighs and blotted at her pussy as best she could, rolled the magazine up and shoved it into her purse, and, once out on the sidewalk again, gave the security cam the finger as she went on her way.

Her on-foot travels that night were random, taking her trespassing through shadowy parks and between pastel-painted condos, meandering along bonfire-lit beaches, down sidewalks crowded with eye candy waiting in line to get into dance clubs and strip bars, past towering art deco architecture buzzing with neon lights, past the windows of lingerie shops and used record stores, and through trailer-parks filled with pink flamingos and broken furniture where Christmas lights stayed up all year long. She’d grown weary of many things, but she’d never tired of Miami, and Miami had never tired of her.

Somewhere near 12th Street, she started getting the niggling sense she was being followed. It was impossible to confirm this with a mere glance around, since the sidewalks were teeming with all manner of late-night wildlife, so she ducked into the erotic art museum on Washington Avenue and went quickly upstairs to the lobby, where she paid her admission and proceeded to burn up some time, talk herself out of her sudden paranoia, and, of course, enjoy the various exhibits. She had visited a few times before, but they’d changed some things around and acquired some new pieces since the last time.

Flora was on a journey, one which had no apparent purpose and yet which she felt compelled to continue on no matter how deep it led her into her own internal emptiness. It wasn’t the raw, red chasm of her need that scared her, but the barriers that were rising in front of her now that she was so close to exhausting the possibilities of human experience. She had been initiated into rituals of pain, she had set her body apart from others by letting it be marked by tattoo needles, knives, whips, cigars, piercing needles, and a branding iron once, she had stripped under a spotlight, she had dropped X and taken part in a hotel room orgy while blindfolded, she’d been fucked on beaches, in elevators, public restrooms, the changing rooms of swimsuit shops, the back rows of movie theaters, and just about every other location ever mentioned in letters to porno magazines, and a few not mentioned, like a back room in a funeral home. She was all but done with human beings. She wanted to be fucked by something inhuman. There was a video of her, floating around somewhere in cyberspace—the sound quality was terrible and the picture was fuzzy, but it was her, taking it up the slut-hole from a German shepherd. But even that wasn’t enough. Standing now before a famous painting of a woman mating with a swan, she fantasized about what copulating with a peacock might be like, with its glittering tail fanned out spectacularly. Or, what about a dolphin? Dolphins were said to be more intelligent than humans; they’d probably make very sensitive, considerate lovers. Also, she didn’t know whether it was true or not, but she’d heard that, in the case of a dolphin, the term “boner” wasn’t figurative— they actually had a bone in their dick. That, if it was true, was interesting to her, as was the thought of fucking in the water.

She wondered whether it might be possible to progress, at some point, to being fucked by something not only inhuman, but incorporeal. The closest she had come to this yet had been when she’d bought a vibrator that could be hooked up to her portable CD player, and was designed to pulse and vibrate in time with whatever music was playing. She had lay back with the sound of Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos streaming through her headphones and each note and chord translating itself into a stroke of the tiny metal hammer humming away inside the phallic machine strapped between her thighs. Concerto No. 3, in particular, had given her some great orgasms, but it still hadn’t been quite the experience she’d had in mind, when all had been said and done. She wished the music itself could have somehow penetrated her body, reverberating inside her lungs and womb, playing her tendons and capillaries like viola strings, and reaching into the very pleasure centers of her brain, setting her synapses crackling and triggering the rhythmic secretion of hormones and making her come in sonic waves. She wanted that. She wanted something or somebody to fuck her mind. It had never been touched before.

She became aware of two women in the room then, who were admiring a different painting. She had no idea how long they’d been there, they were so quiet. They were an unusual-looking pair, too, even by late-night South Beach standards. They both appeared to have put on way too much powder, and not just on their faces, but on all other visible parts of their bodies, and their skin seemed to have a grayish tint to it underneath that. Though they were both young, they’d dyed their hair silver—an unnatural silver, at that. They wore cotton tunics, and their skirts and shoes were of a material Flora couldn’t identify. If she had to guess, it looked like PVC trying to imitate animal hide—though the hide of what kind of animal, she couldn’t imagine. She almost chided herself for staring, but then realized that the two were so preoccupied, between contemplating the painting and gazing at each other, that they most likely didn’t even notice that she was there. They had to be a couple.

Something about the two women made her uneasy, but she chalked that up to their appearance and allowed herself to drift silently and discreetly along with them as they moved from room to room, hoping she wasn’t being obvious. Were they members of some new subculture she hadn’t yet learned of?

Near the exit, the taller of the two women turned and not only acknowledged her presence for the first time, but made direct and piercing eye contact with her, for far longer than almost anyone would’ve considered polite. Far from being put off, Flora felt magnetized by the unnaturally pale blue of the woman’s small, reptilian eyes. The woman turned away again abruptly, took her companion’s hand, and started down the stairs. Flora hesitated, and then gingerly descended the stairs. By the time she got to the door, the pair was already a block away and turning in the direction of Ocean Drive. Feeling insane, she followed them to the shore of the Atlantic.

She woke up in a reclining position on something that reminded her of a dentist’s chair, only softer. The material covering it was white and looked and felt like leather, but had an oddly plant-like scent. She sat up and looked around the room, which was semi-circular, and lit by a ring of blue and white bulbs that hung above the chair. Directly in front of the chair was a picture window, looking out onto an empty stretch of moonlit, palm-shadowed beach. To each side of the window, the walls were lined with what looked like photographs, but couldn’t be, considering the surrealism of the pictures—forests populated by winged snakes and oversized rodent-like creatures, city scenes of impossible architecture and geometry that made her head hurt, complete with silver trains and purple fog, and translucent mountain ranges marbled with streaks of orange and gold and capped with powdery, bluish snow, above which perched twin moons.

She tried to backtrack. The last thing she remembered was being somewhere on Washington Avenue. That was right—she’d been in the erotic art museum. Two women had been there, and she knew she’d gotten a weird vibe off of them, but she couldn’t remember what they’d looked like. She couldn’t make any connection between that, and this room. What about what had happened before going into the erotic museum? Had she gotten drunk? She didn’t remember getting drunk. She didn’t feel drunk, or hung over. Had someone drugged her? No, that couldn’t be—she didn’t recall even going into any bars, much less drinking with anybody. She clearly remembered having gotten off a couple of times to a live lesbian sex show, and again to a fetish magazine in a gas station bathroom, and spending most of the evening after that wandering aimlessly around the general vicinity of South Beach. Besides, she didn’t feel groggy. She was very alert, in fact. She spotted her purse on the floor, and grabbed it and swung it up into her lap. Her credit card, debit card, driver’s license, cash, everything was there. Even the porno mag was there, rolled up like she’d left it. She checked her clothes—they didn’t appear to be in any sort of disarray, either. Her panties were missing, but she distinctly remembered having ditched them in the peepshow booth.

She dropped her purse back onto the floor. So if she hadn’t been drugged, robbed, or raped, and she hadn’t found her way into this weird place in a blacked-out drunken stupor, then how had she gotten here, and what did whoever was around here want with her?

Behind the chair was a door, and just as Flora twisted around to look at it, it opened soundlessly, and two women entered the room. It was them—the two women from the museum!

Suddenly, she understood that the women didn’t owe their appearance to talc powder, contacts, hair dye, or anything else artificial, and that those pictures hanging on the walls really were, in fact, photographs.

“You’re awake,” said the shorter of the two silver-haired young women excitedly.

“Hey, who the hell’re you?”

No need to be afraid, Flora.

Flora jumped. “What the fuck was that?”

Please, could you not shout? We both have sensitive ears, especially me. Let me explain what’s happening. My name is Tree, and this is Ahulani—

The taller of the two women was speaking without moving her lips, and her voice seemed a lot closer than her body was to Flora. It dawned on Flora that she wasn’t throwing her voice—she was actually thinking her words into her brain. Though it was the most trivial of all the matters at hand right then, Flora couldn’t help cutting her off with the question, “Your name is ‘Tree’?”

I know what that sounds like in your language. But on Quirin (she pronounced it “keer-in,” with the emphasis on the second syllable)—where we’re from—it’s a very old name, and a fairly popular one. It means, ‘From the river village.’

“And how do you know who I am?”

I did a little skimming through your subconscious while you were out.

“So where…” Flora trailed off. That would be a dumb question. Clearly, she was aboard some sort of spacecraft, and, judging by the view out the window, said spacecraft was sitting on a beach somewhere near the edge of Miami. “So how did I get here?”

“You came willingly,” Ahulani told her.

“No, I didn’t. I don’t even remember how I got here.”

“If you don’t remember, how do you know you didn’t?”

Ahulani, don’t, you’ll get her upset again.

“I’m just trying to be helpful.”

I know, but let me handle this. Flora, I assure you, you did come willingly.

“No. You… hypnotized me, or… something like that. Yeah, I remember now—that thing you did with your eyes.”

I may have helped things along a little bit with a suggestion or two, but the decision to follow us was ultimately yours.

“Wait, if I can hear you thinking now, then why do I not remember being able to hear you in the museum?”

I was speaking to the subconscious level of your mind then, not the conscious level that you’re using to think, perceive your surroundings, and talk to me right now.

Flora stared at the two women, absorbing what she’d gathered from this conversation thus far. Now that she was calming down and realizing that she didn’t seem to be in any danger, she was starting to see some interesting possibilities here. She couldn’t believe this was happening to her—she’d thought things like this only happened to Billy Bob and Elsie Mae out in the cornfields, not city-slicker chicks like her!

“Who are Billy Bob and Elsie Mae?” asked Ahulani.

Nobody, really, it’s just an expression for referring to humans who live in certain rural areas, Tree explained.

Flora jumped again. “You can hear me think?”

“Yes, I can hear others’ thoughts, I just can’t transmit my own,” said Ahulani. “Some Quirians—” (she pronounced it “keer-yins,” with the emphasis on the first syllable)—“can transmit their thoughts, but can’t hear anyone else’s. Tree can do both. We each have our strengths.”

I can speak with my vocal chords and mouth if I must, but communicating via thought transmission is easier and more comfortable for me.

“Where is… this planet you keep talking about?”

“Quirin is in the Andromeda Galaxy,” Ahulani answered.

“Ah, so we’re going to be close neighbors someday.”

“I’m assuming you’re talking about the point when our galaxy and the Milky Way collide. True enough, it is going to happen, but not for a few million more years.”

This whole discussion was insane, absurd—it was time to cut to the chase. “Alright, here’s the real question, the big question—why am I here?”

As I was explaining, Ahulani and I were sent by our mistress to find an Earth girl for her. When we started picking up your thought patterns, near the museum, we realized you were perfect for—

“Are we talking a whips-and-chains kind of mistress here?”

“What?” asked Ahulani.

I’ll explain later, Tree told her companion. Addressing Flora, she continued, We are literally her servants. Her name is Meridiana. There’s nothing sexual about how we relate to her at present, but that’ll be changing soon enough. That’s where you come in. She wants an Earth girl, and as part of the reward for finding her one, she’s given me the chance to do what I’d like before handing you over. Much like Meridiana, I’ve always liked Earth girls. Really… really liked them. And I’ve never run across one with thoughts quite like yours before.

Flora looked up at her for a long time before asking, “What, exactly, are you saying?” She knew damn well what Tree was saying, but she wanted to hear it. This opportunity was too good to waste one bit of.

Yes, I know you know, but I’ll say it. I want to fuck you. I want to fuck you, and I’m not embarrassed about that. What’s not to like about Earth women?

Flora sensed that fucking humans was considered taboo on Tree’s home planet. This didn’t offend or bother her—it actually turned her on all the more to realize that she could be the object of some alien fetish. Tree’s desires seemed to be an inversion of hers.

But… how did Quirians fuck? Though they strongly resembled humans, they differed from them in appearance just enough to cause her to wonder what other physical differences might exist between the two. Thankfully, Tree spared her the awkwardness of having to admit out loud that she needed a little guidance.

I can show you, if you’ll let me.

“Wait—” Flora began, looking over at Ahulani.

It’s alright—it’s nothing Ahulani doesn’t already know about. She and I do it all the time.

Considering the ease with which Tree told her this, Flora deduced that jealousy wasn’t an issue, nor were either of the Quirians uncomfortable with whatever was about to transpire simply occurring without privacy being a concern. What did she know about what their culture considered normal? It would be best to just follow Tree’s lead…

Wait a second. Holy shit—could she get impregnated? Though Tree seemed female in every sense of the word as Flora understood it, this still struck her as a relevant question, considering her lack of knowledge of Quirian reproductive anatomy. Tree’s laughter reverberated softly within Flora’s cranium.

An understandable concern, but not a necessary one—all Quirians are female, and when they reach a certain age, they reproduce asexually, like many of the plants on your planet do.

“Then what do you have sex for?”

For pleasure, what else?

Flora liked her attitude. And she decided now that she actually trusted this woman from another galaxy more than some of the members of her own species whom she’d fucked in recent time. It was hard not to feel that way about Tree—she practically already knew Flora, having psychically thumbed through the under-layers of her brain like a library book. So Tree was about to have a good romp with her and then pass her to this Meridiana? Not one, but two kinky aliens who had a thing for humans had singled her out to be their fuck-toy, and she didn’t even have to worry about the possibility of getting knocked up and offed by her own offspring Sigourney-style? This was sounding better and better. Hell, she’d ditch this dirtball and go back to the Andromeda Galaxy with them in a nanosecond if they asked her!

“We’re thrilled to hear that,” Ahulani told her, “and Meridiana will be, too. She has a physical drive which, right now, Tree and I can’t comprehend. She has to relieve the tension in her body once every few hours, and she’s assured us both that it’s quite a desirable ‘affliction.’ But we should let you know, she wants you for more than that. She’s been sending us out to find human girls for her to feed on.”

Flora jumped to her feet. “Feed? Like a…”

Vampire? Yes, that’s what she is, but you misunderstand. She doesn’t drink blood like the vampires of Earthen mythologies. She doesn’t use her teeth to feed—Quirian vampires only bite when they are transforming someone into one of their own, as she’s going to be doing to Ahulani and myself tonight. Even when a Quirian vampire changes someone, they don’t drink the ‘victim’s’ blood—they inject a venom through their teeth.

Flora shakily sank back down onto the chair. She was listening. She wasn’t quite ready to bolt and give up this one-in-ten-billion opportunity to experience intergalactic sex just yet. “What does she feed on?”

Breast milk.

“But I’m not… I mean, I don’t… I can’t lactate.”

Oh, you can. You don’t need to be pregnant, or have recently given birth. Hypothetically, you don’t even need to be fertile. All you need to be is sexually stimulated—during feeding, a vampire’s tongue secretes a pheromone that interacts with the host’s body chemistry to trigger the production of milk, but it only works if the host is aroused. According to what my sister and I here have heard, it also increases the sensitivity of the breasts, leading the host to become more compliant and even come to crave being fed upon.

This really was getting better by the minute. And Tree and Ahulani were sisters? Damn. Lesbian incest. Hot. Or maybe the concept of incest didn’t really exist to them—maybe it was customary on Quirin for sisters to fuck each other. Who knew. And all sex on Quirin, Flora reminded herself, would be lesbian by default. They most likely didn’t even think about it. They probably didn’t even have a word for “lesbian” in whatever their native language was. If Tree heard these thoughts—which she probably did—she didn’t comment upon them.

But before we jump too far ahead of ourselves, I still have something to show you, Tree was reminding her. It was generous of Meridiana to let me have you first, and I don’t intend to waste the opportunity. Don’t worry, you don’t have to do a thing. Just lie back, and trust me.

Flora did so, though she was puzzled at Tree’s remaining, motionless, where she stood behind the head of the reclined chair. After a few moments of waiting for her to make some kind of move towards her, she propped herself up on her elbows and turned to face Tree.

Just lie back, Tree repeated. Relax and give it a few moments, you’ll see. You’ll like this.

“Uum, okay,” she laughed awkwardly, lying back down. Ahulani was somewhere along the far reaches of her peripheral vision, leaning back against the wall in silence, observing. The white-and-blue glow of the ring of bulbs above the chair didn’t hurt her eyes, but somewhat blurred the edges of her vision, so that Tree appeared more like a shadowy form hovering over her head than anything else. Flora waited for some hint as to what she was going to do. And then, Flora’s consciousness was an iridescent blue butterfly. The butterfly glided on an interstellar trajectory all the way out to the biggest red supergiant in the universe, and merged with the supergiant, dissolving and expanding to fill it, matching its size. The universe was like that—always pushing its edges outward, at a speed she couldn’t begin to imagine. It was happening at every second. She had known this for years, even though she hadn’t been able to feel it. That was, until that very moment. She suddenly perceived the universe as round and blue—billions of miles, no, forget miles, light years of darkness (as paradoxical as that was) punctuated with billions of points of light, all within this transparent sphere of royal blue. And she found that this was inside her, as if she’d swallowed it. And before she could even raise some silent inner protest that it wasn’t enough and that there were still empty spaces left within her, that starry sphere of a universe was already letting go of its shape and expanding to fill those very spaces. The swirling, endless storm of Jupiter’s eye, the ice crystals of Saturn’s rings, the stellar clouds she remembered seeing images of when Hubble had first started transmitting its pictures back to Earth—all of it was right there, inside her. Heavenly objects bearing appropriately celestial names, as colossal and distant as the mythical figures they were named after—a constellation called Hercules, an asteroid named Orpheus, a galaxy named Andromeda—they weren’t distant anymore, they were right there. So was every supernova, every satellite both natural and not, every galaxy of every shape and size, and every black hole—and even black holes had mass. It expanded further, further, further… until she realized, she was becoming it. Comets raced through her veins, all the way out to her fingertips. The hollow chambers of her heart were filled with fascinating alien moons, snowy silver and orange and gold and peach colored, filling her atria and ventricles with a multihued glow. Shooting stars sparked and jumped across her synapses. She could feel the waxing crescent of a smile forming. And each atom she was made up of—even they each became their own solar system. Nuclei morphed into suns, orbited by electrons that transformed into planets. Just like history, nature repeated itself, into infinity.

“What… was that?” Flora sat up.

Sex, replied Tree. She hadn’t moved from the position in which Flora had last seen her.

“But why—” She paused. But why didn’t she feel the way she had thought she would feel?

Just how had she thought she would feel after sex with a woman from another planet, anyway? Well, she was on an alien spaceship—was it so wrong to have certain expectations? Wasn’t she supposed to be strapped to a table and probed with weird medical instruments, or suspended from chains and groped and violated by tentacles a la hardcore hentai?

Tree’s afterglowy expression shifted to one of first sadness and then confusion. You’re disappointed. She sounded deflated, and somewhat embarrassed. I don’t understand. The other human women loved it.

“I loved it too, really!” This was the truth—sex as the Quirians defined it was nothing less than a psycho-soma-delic trip. “Disappointed isn’t the word I’d use. More like… Well, I don’t know how to describe it, but… it’s just that you didn’t even touch me.” Shit, what a dumb thing to say. Wasn’t this exactly what she’d yearned for? A mindfuck? That was what Tree had just given her, wasn’t it? She’d hijacked and permeated her consciousness, hadn’t she?

Flora sighed. So she was still caged by her own flesh and bones after all. For all her lofty longings for cerebral sex, she was still a homo sapien who couldn’t escape or deny her instincts, and her instincts drove her to seek an elemental, fleshly fuck, lacking in any restraint or dignity—and that made her just like anyone else, and that disappointed her deeply. This beautiful creature from the Andromeda Galaxy was not the one to blame.

Don’t berate yourself like that. You’re only being honest with yourself about what you need.

“I’m trying to explain. I came, and I know, up here—” she pointed to her own head—“that I came, but it’s like my body never got the message. Don’t get me wrong, it was amazing, but just… amazing in its own way. I can’t shake this sense of something being missing, and I know what that ‘something’ is—and I don’t know that I could go the rest of my life without it, and get used to only having… brain sex, as great as it was.”

As it happens, you don’t have to, Tree reassured her. That’s part of the transformation my sister and I are to undergo tonight. We mortal Quirians derive all the sexual pleasure we need from our brains, so our skin registers sensation only mildly, our vaginas are little more than hollow tubes through which we give birth, and we lack clitorises altogether. But when a Quirian is turned into a vampire, her body becomes intensely sensitized, she grows a clitoris, and she loses the ability to transmit or hear thoughts. She also loses her ability to engage in what you just rather aptly termed ‘brain sex,’ and instead, her transformed body becomes the source of all her pleasure. We’re both very curious about this last part in particular, and eager to learn what it’s like.

“Vampires are largely shunned on our planet,” Ahulani said, “and Meridiana has been wandering from galaxy to galaxy for many years, with us by her side, serving her and keeping her supplied with willing ‘victims.’ It was only recently that we received word of a vampire colony forming in one of Quirin’s mountain ranges. In another chamber on this ship, there are two more females, one named Emeraude and the other named Lenka, both from the Leo III Galaxy. If you really do wish to depart with us for Quirin, then the destination for all six of us would be that colony, where you and our other two hosts would be kept as food supplies—and playthings, naturally—for our mistress, my sister, and I.”

Flora couldn’t stop herself from grinning. “Where do I sign up?”

Tree helped Flora to her feet, and Ahulani led the way out of the room.

Flora had barely been properly introduced to Meridiana before she was asked to get undressed. The vampire watched her do so, sitting back in a plush armchair. Flora was only too eager to cooperate, as she’d noticed that the only other piece of furniture in the room was a table similar to that which one would see in a gynecologist’s office, complete with steel stirrups, but with three major differences: this table had several buckling straps attached to it, buckling bands on the stirrups obviously meant to hold the ankles in place, and a long mechanical arm protruding from between the stirrups, at the end of which was a steel dildo. Alright, Flora cheered silently, this is more like it! This is what an alien abduction is supposed to be like! Never mind that she hadn’t been brought here against her will.

Meridiana’s shoes were similar to Tree’s and Ahulani’s, but, unlike them, she wore a black dress which was held together at the front by a vertical row of buckles which ran from the bodice to mid-thigh, and, for some reason, Flora had a hunch that she had nothing on underneath. Her eyes had that same reptilian quality that Tree’s and Ahulani’s did, but instead of watery blue, the irises were of an apple green flecked with gold. Her frizzy hair, unlike that of her two servants, was a shocking shade of orange, and her skin was lavender instead of gray. She had Flora hand her clothes to the servants.

“Your shoes, too,” Meridiana added.

Tree and Ahulani exited the room with her clothes and shoes, leaving Flora standing naked before the calm and regal vampire. She seemed to just barely notice Flora’s various tattoos, piercings, burns, and decorative scars. Maybe on Quirin, body modification was taken in stride, not regarded as the mark of a social rebel. Despite the comfortable temperature of the chamber, the ends of her nipples stood out stiffly. Meridiana beckoned her closer, and told her to stand with her feet apart and her hips arched forward, and spread her folds for her. The vampire leaned forward and peered very closely at her slippery, puffed lips, her engorged clit, and the puckered opening of her slut-hole, but didn’t touch her. She nodded, and stood up. Just then, Tree and Ahulani reentered the room, and remained near the door, watching their mistress cup, lift, and palpate each of Flora’s tits, and brush her fingers across her areolas, which responded to her immediately, becoming contracted and tightly-ridged, while Flora moaned.

Meridiana looked over to her servants, beaming. The pair half-hugged and their eyes shined with excitement. “Come, girls,” the vampire said gently, “you know what to do.”

Tree and Ahulani took Flora by the hands and guided her over to the table, and helped her up onto it.

“She wants to come back with us, too,” Ahulani informed the vampire, while placing Flora’s feet up in the stirrups and setting about buckling her ankles in.

“Then you both really have outdone yourselves.”

Tree, smiling, quickly and firmly strapped Flora down. One strap went just above her breasts, another just below them, so that they stuck up in the air, slightly squeezed and elongated. More straps went across her waist, pinning her arms to her sides, and the two heaviest, thickest ones went across her lower abdomen, and got buckled at their tightest notches. Tree placed one final strap, one which Flora hadn’t noticed before, across her neck, this one slender and a little looser. Ahulani opened a drawer in the side of the table, and brought out two miniature black globes that looked like they were made of rubber, each of them attached to a pair of blunt metal pinchers. She took Tree’s place at the head of the table, while Tree retrieved a metal rod with a wide cuff at each end from the drawer, and moved to stand between Flora’s splayed, bound legs. She buckled the bands tightly around Flora’s thighs, and she realized that the rod was meant to act as a spreader-bar of sorts. At the same time, Ahulani took each of her nipples in turn between her fingers, stretched them out, and placed them into the grip of each pair of steel pinchers. Despite their intimidating appearance, they only caused her discomfort rather than full-blown pain. Ahulani squeezed each of the tiny rubber globes, and with a click, they began to make the metal pinchers vibrate, teasing and massaging her hyper-sensitized, clamped nipples. Despite her claims of having no knowledge of physical sexual acts, it was with an incredible level of skill and care that Tree widened the opening of Flora’s sex-hole and glided the ice-cold steel dildo into it. Flora instinctively flexed her pussy around it, moaning, and Tree let her have a few moments to grow accustomed to the welcome, hard steel invasion before she flipped some switch or hit some button, and the dildo, too, started to vibrate, and grow warm, and search for and find and arouse her G-spot.

Actually, it didn’t so much vibrate as pulse. And the pulses varied in strength from time to time, so she couldn’t fall into and stay in a particular rhythm, which left the possibility of orgasm just out of reach. Did they understand that this was torture for her? The mechanical arm withdrew the dildo, and placed the tip of it against her clit. Oh yes, God yes, this was it, it must be. She attempted to thrust herself up against it to help things along, but the strap across her hips was so tight, it was impossible. The mechanical arm drew back, and the dildo’s contact with her clit was lost. “Oh, God, please, please!” she screamed. The robotic arm lowered the dildo’s tip to her clitoris again, and started to move it in a circling motion.

Meridiana, who’d been standing close by to observe all these proceedings, shook her head. The soothing quality of her tone softened the matter-of-factness of her words: “You mustn’t struggle, Flora. Allow the machine to do its work. It’s not on a setting that’s intended to bring you to orgasm.”

“Why?” she wailed.

“You will know relief, I promise. After watching you like this, I’m going to need a long, hot fuck, myself! But first, I need you to be brought to the highest level of arousal your body is capable of without climaxing.”

The mechanical arm moved the dildo again, reinserting it into her cunt, leaving her clitoris alone and in torment. Wasn’t it enough that she had been mind-fucked, with her body missing out on the ride? Wasn’t she frustrated enough? To her shame, she heard herself whimper in a small, defeated voice, “Is this really necessary?”

Meridiana went over to stand behind the head of the table. She began to stroke her hair and to massage her temples, saying, “It won’t be this distressing every time. It’s just that you’ve never lactated before, so your body won’t respond to its first exposure to the pheromone which will cause you to lactate, unless it’s worked up into this state and kept there for a substantial period.”

Flora felt she’d already been sexually frustrated for a more than substantial period, but didn’t argue. Meridiana was very calm, but not indifferent to her predicament, so Flora forced herself to go along with what was happening. She simultaneously relished this interminable sensual torture, and tried to mentally retreat from it by concentrating on Meridiana’s warm, caressing hands, and the occasional kisses she placed on her forehead. The dildo switched from mode to mode in its stimulation of her at random, prodding at her clit, thrusting in and out of her at varying speeds, bumping up against her G-spot, resting against her clit or her vaginal opening, inserting itself deep inside her and remaining still, sliding up and down along her inner lips, and circling or tapping her clit, and she moaned in despair.

“I think that’ll be enough,” Meridiana finally said to the servants.

Quickly, Ahulani stepped forward to shut off the vibration of the nipple clamps, and release her from their grip.

Tree switched the vibrating dildo off and removed it from her fuck-hole. She briefly examined it and her plumped, puffed-out clitoris and clit-hood, with light pinches and prods, then straightened and confirmed, “She’s ready.”

Meridiana returned to her chair, while Ahulani undid all the straps and removed the spreader-bar, and Tree soothed the moaning, shaking Flora by stroking her hair and projecting reassuring thoughts into her mind about what was to transpire.

Tree and Ahulani carried her across the chamber, set her down in Meridiana’s lap, and stepped away to stand to each side of the back of the chair.

Meridiana delicately sucked one of her nipples into her orchid mouth. It happened even more quickly than Flora had expected: after a few seconds, Meridiana withdrew her lips and squeezed her tit and pulled at the nipple so Flora could see—it was coming out in thin drops, but it was there. She was lactating. Meridiana’s mouth returned to her stiffly alert nipple, and suckled with a steadily mounting eagerness. Suddenly, Flora felt proud. She wasn’t sure she had ever felt more… feminine than she did right then. She felt proud that she was feeding her breast milk to a woman—who could understand the significance of what she was giving better than a woman could? And sweet God, oh, holy, holy fuck, did Meridiana’s mouth feel good! It felt so good it actually somewhat quieted her body’s raw, soundlessly screaming demand to come, for the moment. She let her head drop back, surrendering to the sensation as her skin absorbed the pheromone and it seeped through her breast tissue. Tree had been right—this could easily get addictive. The vampire kept a firm grip on her, one arm supporting her upper back, the other wrapped around her waist. Her slut-hole was dripping on Meridiana’s dress, and Flora hoped she didn’t mind. Meridiana moved her lips to her other nipple, and fastened them hotly around it. She was sure her nipples had not ever been this swollen. The sensitivity spread out across her tits in a deeply-tingling, languorous wave, and she could feel the milk being drawn from her now, in a smooth, ever-strengthening stream.

Meridiana alternated between her nipples, suckling from her for almost half an hour, or at least that was the amount of time Flora guessed. She was actually disappointed when Tree and Ahulani lifted her out of her lap, and started carrying her back to the room she had woken up in earlier. She looked back at Meridiana, who was following. A pleasant ache throbbed in her breasts. They felt heavy somehow. She couldn’t wait until the next time the exotic vampire fed from her.

She was laid down on the soft, reclined chair, with her legs extended and parted so that her heels rested against the floor. Meridiana, approaching her, undid the buckles on her dress, first from neckline to upper torso, just enough to uncover her tits and let them hang out over the peeled-down flaps of fabric, and then from mid-thigh up to the waist, and opened the lower half of her dress to reveal… was that a… was that a dick?

No, it wasn’t a dick. It was a clit, but a clit quite dissimilar to Flora’s own. Flora couldn’t help but gasp. Protruding from between Meridiana’s smooth, lush lavender folds, the clit was as thick as a finger, and even longer than one!

As soon as Meridiana penetrated her, Flora found out that there was another difference between Meridiana’s clit and hers. Just like a finger, this clit could flex and stroke. She couldn’t even articulate her wonder in words. She simply moaned it, as Meridiana sought out and found Flora’s G-spot with the tip of her clitoris.

While she writhed and the tension built up and up in her legs and hips, she was aware of Meridiana tensing her lower body as well, but rather than thrusting, the vamp just barely moved her hips while she concentrated on extending and contracting the muscle she apparently had in her clitoris in such a way as to coax and caress her G-spot towards sweet release. Parts of Meridiana’s skin seemed to blush, her cheeks turning the fresh color of hothouse carnations, and the same shade haloing her nipples and spreading out across her breasts. Her nipples stood out, as jewel-like and succulent as pomegranate seeds, and Flora saw that the firm, fleshy tips were actually throbbing with visible pulses. Flora’s own tender, tightly-peaked nipples tingled and leaked drops of warm milk as if they were being plucked and nipped and sucked on, even though Meridiana’s hands were nowhere near them at the moment. Meridiana reached up just behind Flora’s pubic bone with the tip of her astonishingly distended clit, and massaged that zone of flesh, jostling that puckering, ever-engorging knot of tension until… Flora wasn’t sure if it was coincidence, or some sort of pheromone interaction, but at the same moment Meridiana’s frame was gripped by a rigid shudder and her clit literally palpitated in time with the now-powerful expanding-and-contracting of her nipples, her efforts were answered by the unabashedly orgasmic clasping of Flora’s sodden slut-hole.

Meridiana was hardly moving her body at all, yet she was at once the most sensitive and savage fuck of Flora’s life—her clit could satisfy more deeply than the best finger-bang Flora had ever had, with its effortlessly constant, perceptive stroking that stayed right at the very place she needed it to be. And this was only the first of the numberless culminations of the piquing-and-satiating cycle of skin hunger that they would thrust and ride each other through that night.

“I believe she’s been overexcited—this all seems to have been a little much for her,” Meridiana told her two servants. “Better put her to bed.”

Under any other circumstances, Flora would have taken issue with the suggestion that anything might be “too much” for her. But Meridiana’s words had a playful subtext, and she couldn’t deny that, even though she knew she was capable of having more orgasms, she was too drained to physically make the effort. As it was, she doubted she had ever come quite as many times during one continuous fuck as she had during this one. She offered no protest to Tree or Ahulani when they, with Meridiana trailing behind them, carried her to another chamber.

Meridiana opened the door for them, and it was as they entered that Flora’s eyes were met with a sight even more extraordinary than any other she’d seen so far that night. On wide chrome-and-marble pedestals along the flat wall of the semicircular chamber stood what could only be described as three giant wombs, with vaginas attached. The wombs were pink, veined, and transparent. The one in the center stood empty, while each of the other two contained a full-grown, naked alien woman, both of whom were asleep. Tree and Ahulani set Flora down carefully in a kneeling position in front of the vagina that connected to the empty womb.

“It’s okay. All you have to do is crawl in, and you’ll fall asleep fairly quickly. You’ll wake up when one of us calls to you in the morning,” Meridiana told her.

“But how will I breathe?”

“Your lungs will shut down once you’re inside, but your body will absorb oxygen from the incubator’s inner lining. When you emerge tomorrow, you’ll start breathing again normally. I give you my every reassurance that it’s safe.”

Flora only hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. She tentatively reached forward and opened the mouth of the vagina. Nothing had ever appeared so welcoming.

With both hands, she spread the dripping orifice as wide as she could, and stared up inside it in admiration. Unlike a human vagina, this one readily offered a clear view all the way up to the cervix. The cervix appeared slackened, and the vagina’s walls were a rich, deep red, sitting tented apart as if in full arousal. After a minute or two, she took a deep breath, and entered the hollow, slick tube head-first, in a complete reversal of how she had begun life nearly three decades previously.

As she crawled, the vagina helped her along, contracting powerfully around her. Was the vagina having an orgasm? There was no way to know for sure, but what she did know was that it felt wonderful, like a hug and a massage wrapped into one and encompassing her entire body. And then she was popped up through the fleshy, yielding cervix, and then she was inside. She exhaled, and felt no further need to breathe.

She looked out through the rosy, veined wall of the womb at Meridiana and her servants. Apparently satisfied that she had made it inside alright, Meridiana turned to Tree and Ahulani and told them to take off their skirts. They both unzipped their skirts and let them flutter down around their shoes into crinkled heaps, baring themselves up to the hairless seams of their as-yet prim pussies, and Flora saw that they each had two crescent-shaped scabs on their thighs. Flora could hear everything that was happening on the outside, crystal-clear. She watched sleepily as Meridiana opened her mouth and a row of serrated teeth sprang out of her upper gums in front of her normal teeth, and she dropped to her knees and sank them into Ahulani’s thigh. Ahulani let out a choked cry that could have been of pleasure as easily as it could have been of pain. After a minute or so, Meridiana turned to Tree and took hold of her thigh, and closed her jaws down on the willingly offered flesh. Ahulani was already showing signs of changing. It was fascinating, but Flora was so, so tired… she couldn’t keep her eyes open…

At some point presumably just before sunrise, Flora’s sleep was vaguely disturbed by a rumbling that only could have been the ship lifting off. She wondered if the ship was visible from the ground, trailing a dazzling, evanescent tail like a shooting star in reverse, up into the orange-splashed clouds… and then, she decided it didn’t matter, and repose reclaimed her.

When next she saw them, they didn’t even have to make any mention of it for Flora to understand that Ahulani and Tree had spent much of the previous night exploring and indulging each other’s newfound bodily sexuality. While they led her to the machine and began what was to become the regular morning ritual of strapping her down to it, Flora trailed her eyes down their forms, taking in the changes Meridiana’s bite had wrought upon them. Tree’s hair was now a lustrous crimson, while Ahulani’s had turned the color of brass. The irises of Ahulani’s eyes had gone from pale blue to gold-flecked purple, and Tree’s had changed to orange with hints of gold. And of course, their skin was now of a vibrant purple hue. Like Flora, both Tree and her sister were still naked. They frequently paused in the process of restraining her, to kiss and titillate each other’s bodies as well as Flora’s. Both sisters were visibly excited, and as well-endowed as their mistress, with thick, purple clits that jutted shamelessly from between their labia, which were no longer neat and tight, but proudly puckered and kissably moist from where they peeked out just below their softly bulging Venus mounds. What would it be like to suck or lick clits like theirs? Flora didn’t know it right then, but she would find out exactly what it felt like before the day was over.

In fact, soon, Flora would no longer have any worries—she was to realize that no matter what new sexual experience she might dream up or wonder about, she had only to wait, and not long, before she would know the reality. She was being kept as a source of nourishment, and as a curious, erotic toy, and she knew it, but she didn’t feel like a prisoner, not even with all the control Meridiana exerted over the ship’s daily goings-on.

Each morning during the voyage, Flora would wake to the sound of someone calling her name through the membranous wall of the womb she lay curled in. She would emerge naked from the yawning, wet pink vaginal orifice, and be led by one or both of the sisters to the machine, where she’d be buckled down in place by the straps and spreader-bar, and the gleaming, cold mechanical cock would be inserted in her slit and switched on. Meridiana referred to the machine as a “stimulator,” but Flora simply thought of it as “the tease machine” in her own mind—it was never used to get her off, it was used merely to prepare her and the two women from the Leo III Galaxy to be fed from. Although she was never again kept suspended in a state of pre-orgasmic anguish as maddening and sustained as the one the machine had been made to hold her in that first time, she still felt dread and desire vie for pride of place in her each time her feet were laid in the steel stirrups. Just a few days into the intergalactic flight, she noticed the machine had a Pavlovian effect on her—at first, the sight of the machine made her instantly horny, but before long, simply being led towards the chamber the machine was in would be enough to slick her inner thighs with her arousal.

Sometimes, the vibrating pinchers would be placed on her nipples to get them maximally engorged, while other mornings, Tree or Ahulani would hook her up to a breast pump. While the dildo would proceed to work her up with an all-tease techno-fucking, the thin, flexible suction cups hugging her tits would squeeze and urge milk from her nipples, pumping it through tubes into glass containers for one or all of the vampires to enjoy later. Her body responded to this training with a strength and readiness that made her feel sexier than ever—the more she was pumped and suckled, the more milk her breasts gave, and they soon began to swell noticeably and take on a pleasant weight. Not that she’d disliked her tits or their size before this—even though she’d always been happy with them, it was still exciting to see and feel her tits enlarge to adapt to the new demands placed upon her body and accommodate the vampires’ thirsts.

She would be left alone in the chamber to luxuriate in her suffering under the insensible machine’s ministrations, until Meridiana sent one of her servants back to Flora to check her over, stop the machine, and extricate the robotic dildo from her desperately gaping cunt. Sometimes, if an especially copious supply of milk had been drawn from her by the pump, then the suction cups would be detached from her breasts, but she would remain strapped down, and she would be fucked to climax after climax just like that. Other times, particularly if the pinchers had been used, they’d be removed from her nipples so she could be fed from directly. Each of her nipples in turn would be tugged deep into an aphrodisiacal, vampiric mouth (either right where she lay bound to the table, or while settled comfortably beside or in the lap of one of the vampires), or, sometimes, two of them would share her, each sealing her lips around an erect, waiting nipple. Flora would be fucked, thoroughly, exhaustively, each and every day, but only after the vampires had satisfied their hunger. The two women Flora shared an incubation chamber with, Emeraude and Lenka, also underwent this handling daily. Each of the vampires had their favorite to feed on and fuck—Ahulani’s favorite was Lenka, Meridiana’s was Emeraude, and Tree’s was Flora—but the vampires frequently borrowed and lent their playthings amongst themselves, not to mention indulged in many orgiastic evenings with each other. They also encouraged Flora to get to know Lenka and Emeraude, and allowed her to play with them often. Lenka was amphibious and lanky, with satiny scales and two deep, narrow pussies that she could cause to turn inside-out at will, so that she had two streamlined cocks that could fill Flora’s slit and ass-hole both at once. Emeraude, just like Tree in her former mortal state, communicated telepathically, and possessed a tongue that her species’ evolution had reserved for a purpose other than speech—the surface of Emeraude’s tongue was coated in sexually excitable nerve endings, so that extended sessions of Frenching left her moaning and limp with ecstasy, and whenever she went down on Flora, the act was guaranteed to end in orgasm for both of them.

Every night, Flora, Lenka, and Emeraude would be sent crawling drowsily into their respective wombs, where they would fall asleep within minutes. Flora, for one, had never known such restful nights on Earth. The wombs were almost like silken cages. They seemed to perform more than one function, too. Along with acting as beds, and as respirators in a way, Flora could only conclude that they also hydrated and provided nourishment via the close contact of their thick, fleshy inner linings with the naked bodies of their occupants during the night. Flora never felt hungry or thirsty—in fact, each passing morning found her experiencing an increasingly greater sense of vitality. She didn’t know where Meridiana and the other two vampires slept. Maybe they didn’t need sleep.

There was one other thing the wombs seemed to be a source of: knowledge. She dreamed every night about the planet that Meridiana was piloting the ship towards. In those dreams, she walked along its rivers and through its forests observing the extraordinary fauna, she explored the electrically-buzzing streets and soaring structures of its cities, and she watched its two moons rise over crystalline, snow-dusted mountains. In those dreams, she also saw the vampire colony, and how life there would be: an expanded, intensified version of what life on Meridiana’s ship was like.

Near the end of the voyage, Flora found she was producing so much milk that sometimes she needed to let Emeraude or Lenka drink a little bit of the excess so that her breasts wouldn’t get sore, but she knew this wouldn’t be a problem once the ship landed on Quirin. She would be generously shared with several other horny, thirsty vamps in the colony. She would also, to her delight, be introduced to many other fuck-friends, a few of them human, most of them not. When establishing their colony, the Quirian vampires had brought women from the far reaches of every galaxy from millions of light years around to be kept as sources of both sustenance and amusement. And the colony would always welcome new additions, whether undead Quirian or living plaything—there would be no end to the exoticism and variations of pleasure in this dark utopia isolated in the Quirian mountains. Flora had grown accustomed to the plush, primordial embrace of the oversized organ she spent each night ensconced within, and was glad to learn she wouldn’t have to give this up—her dreams showed her rooms with rows of wombs, inside many of which were women contentedly curled and wrapped in flesh and dreams.

Quirin was a glowing blue speck in the distance at first, but once it had come within view of the naked eye, it bloomed into a silvery-green globe within the next couple of days. Flora and the others watched through the window in anticipation during the following evenings, until the night the ship was close enough for the passengers to be able to discern the serpentine mirrors of the rivers and the peaks of the mountains in the moonlight. They entered the atmosphere with a sonic boom that rattled even the ship’s sturdy frame a bit, but from there glided down to a quiet landing in the shadowed foothills, at the edge of what looked to be a sprawling, bustling village.

The six went to the exit hatch of the ship, and Flora knew that this was the end of a journey and the beginning of a whole different adventure. She could not remember the last time she’d been this enthused about… anything. She was still naked, as she had been throughout the voyage, just like Lenka and Emeraude, but entering this new world in this way struck her as not only permissible, but proper.

Ahulani pulled a lever down. The hatch opened, announcing their arrival with a subdued grinding of gears.

They all stepped outside, with Meridiana leading the way.