The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Summer forests are never quiet at night. They are filled by the calls of birds, the rustle of leaves, and the clicks and hums of insects beyond counting. Had anyone been there to hear, it was not the noise of the intruder they would have noticed. It would only have been the silence, a moving bubble of no-sound, as small creatures fell still at her approach.

Her steps barely shuffled the detritus of the forest floor. Despite her silence, she moved quickly, sliding over deadfalls and beneath grasping branches, moving unswervingly towards the cabins.

No one was there to see her approach. The latest tenants, renting vacationers (as were all inhabitants the log-sided buildings) had departed the week before. So her stealth was, perhaps, unnecessary, as she crossed the small grassy clearing behind the larger building, making a beeline to the utility shed. Her steps were light, even, her head barely bobbing (and her small breasts barely swaying) as she darted forward across the small open space to press her naked back against the shed.

Not that she thought about whether her stealth was required. Or, in fact, thought about much at all. She had purpose, her task pressed against her soft mind and folded in. Thought beyond where the next foot went was unnecessary and undesirable, and the small part of her which could still function at any remove merely reveled in how close she was to being her purpose, solely and unthinkingly. How beautifully streamlined her mind was.

She was visible, now, when she moved, for the trees did not press so close against the cabins as to block out the moonlight. Her skin was a pale, freckled white as she crept around the small shed and lifted the lock. She was naked, entirely, covered only in a dull shine. Something on her skin reflected the moonlight softly, and served to keep the branches and insects from stinging her. Not that she would have noticed.

The key had been in her hand since she began her task, miles away. Silently, she unlocked the padlock, and opened the door to the shed. Inside were dust and cobwebs, old tools and unused cleansers. And the water tank.

Perhaps she had once been afraid of spiders, but neither habit nor thought remained of any such once-fear. She slipped inside, night-wide pupils dilating further as she entered the dark. Had anyone been there to see them, they might have been surprised at just how wide they became.

Once her vision was distinct enough to be effective, she leapt gracefully upon a dusty, worn workbench, crouched to avoid the low ceiling, tiptoed rapidly down its length, and laid hands on the cistern cover. The cabin’s water supply came from an artesian well, and the tank was in the shed to better insulate it in winter. The metal cover lay under the dust of years.

She wrestled the cover off. She was far, far stronger than a slim body like hers had any right to be—her arms flexed and bulged as the cover (set in place with no small effort by two men) slid gratingly to the side. There was now perhaps a foot of space between the cistern top and the low roof—room enough to reach into the tank, or perhaps to slide a thin body over the cistern wall into the water.

When the cover was perhaps half off, but still balanced atop the cistern, the intruder paused, satisfied. Then she changed position. Bending over and placing her hands on the beaten workbench surface, she leaned forward. Her nipples brushed the workbench top as she stood on her hands, leaning forward and spreading her legs wide to either side to avoid the low ceiling. She was now standing on her hands, elbows bent to keep low, legs splayed above her.

That she was not wholly human was by now apparent, her pupils hugely dilated, inky blackness now covering fully half her eyes, iris a blade-thin rim around them. It became more so as, from their position on either side of her, the woman continued to circle her legs forward, hips rotating inhumanly until her legs were parallel, pointed at the door, her buttocks squeezed tight between them.

Then she straightened her arms, legs lowering closer and closer to her rising torso as it lifted from a vertical position to a horizontal one. She didn’t touch the ceiling. Her spread crotch slowly moved backwards towards the cistern and her wide eyes towards the door until her arms were fully extended. Now she was standing on her hands, body flat just below the ceiling, legs rotated in their sockets until her knees were resting on her shoulders, calves hugging either side of her head.

Then, carefully, she walked her body backwards, hips rotated incredibly, legs locked across her shoulders. Her flattened torso, spread crotch first, slid into the narrow gap between the roof and the open cistern, just brushing each. When her elbows bumped the cistern wall, she stopped. Her breasts were pushing against the cistern wall; small as they were, they kept her upper torso from fitting in the narrow opening between cistern and ceiling that her lower torso had already slid through. But she was far enough.

There was a moment of quiet, then with a tremble a jet of liquid burst out of her spread vagina, spraying into the water tank. Her face displayed no emotion as she continued for several long seconds. The water churned under the pressurized jet shooting from between the intruder’s spread legs. Then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped. There was stillness again. A single clear drop splashed from her lips onto the rippling surface of the water.

Then she walked forward again on her hands, her stomach, then her hipbone, and finally her crotch clearing the cistern. Once clear, she unfolded herself. Feet once more on the bench, she dragged the cistern cover back into place, the muscles in her back straining and flexing as it shifted gratingly back into place. Once it was seated again, she recrossed the bench and stepped out of the shed.

The next vacationers would be here tomorrow. Some part of her knew that, but it wasn’t really her concern. She was action—her Mistress did the planning. She locked the door, quickly but not hurriedly, and then swallowed the key. There were instructions to do so—whether Mistress had another key, or would have her recover this one, her higher mind wondered only for a second. Then it was time to run, and it lost itself in the sheer joy of purpose once more.

Once her slim silhouette had slipped back into the woods, no one would have noticed anything different about the shed at all, except for a strange scent in the air, smelling somewhat like malt and ever so slightly like wet skin. But that too soon disappeared.

“Tell me again why we didn’t just come up here in our cars?” Monica demanded.

“Because we are supposed to be camping together, Monica,” replied Bill, not looking away from the road ahead. “Besides, I didn’t want to drive my car up this road.”

“But we could have taken Emilia and Arthur’s car,” Monica replied. “They have an SUV.”

“Arthur wouldn’t want to chip the paint with all this gravel,” Emilia said from the second tier of seats. She was watching the woods bounce by out the window.

“Oh, stop it,” Arthur said, putting his book in his lap and hitting her playfully on the arm. “It’s more fun to all be in the same car anyway.”

“Hey, can you guys quiet down up there?” Tracy said from the back seat. “Some of us are trying to concentrate.” She looked back at the pile of cards on the floor of the van. “Okay, Nicki, do you have any jacks?”

“Go fish,” Nicki replied, and Tracy drew from the deck.

“Ha!” Tracy said, “Got one! I win!”

“Damn,” Chris said, “not again. Let’s play gin rummy instead. This game sucks.”

“You’re just saying that because I win all the time,” Tracy replied.

“Sounds like a good reason to me,” Chris said, gathering the cards to shuffle. “Arthur, Emilia, do you two want to play?”

“Naw,” Emilia said, “I’m watching the scenery.”

“How about me?” said Monica.

“You’re up there in the passenger seat, Monica,” Chris replied. “You’ll have to switch with someone if you want to play.”

“I’ll switch with her,” Nicki said. “I’d like to watch the road for a while.”

“Too late,” Bill announced from the driver’s seat, “We’re here.”

Everyone in the van looked out the windows as they entered the clearing with the cabins. The irregular plinging of the gravel road under the rental van stopped as Bill drove onto the small paved strip adjacent to the first cabin, and stopped the van. There was a sudden hush as he killed the engine.

“Thank God,” Monica said, “I thought we’d never get here.”

“Aw, that didn’t take too long,” replied Tracy.

Arthur leaned over and pulled open the sliding door, and the five people in the back stepped out one by one into the humid summer afternoon. There wasn’t a hint of breeze.

“Wow,” Chris said, “smell that air. Arthur, this was a fantastic idea.”

“It sure was, honey,” Emilia seconded, kissing her husband on the cheek. “Nothing to do for a week but lie around and enjoy the wilderness.”

“Yah!” exclaimed Bill, jerking upright in front of the van. “Don’t lean on the hood, folks—that sucker’s hot!”

“Did you hurt yourself?” Tracy asked.

“No, just startled me.”

“Well,” Chris said, “we did just spend three hours gaining three thousand feet in elevation on a gravel road.”

“Yeah, a road put in by Cornelius Agrippa by the feel of it,” Monica said. “But it was good driving, Bill.”

“Thanks, dear. Okay, I hereby declare a half-hour moratorium on unpacking. Let’s have a look around.”

“Woo hoo!” Tracy said, grabbing Chris by the hand and pulling him towards the main cabin. “Dibs on the best room!”

“Oh no you don’t” Emilia said, racing after them. The five remaining around the van laughed.

The rental consisted of three buildings—the two cabins and the utility shed, which was locked. Bill had gotten two sets of keys for each cabin. The cabins were almost identical, consisting of one large two-story open area with a fireplace and couches, and then stacked bedrooms with walk-in bathrooms and closets. The main cabin also had a kitchen and dining room attached to the living room to give the entire building an ‘L’ shape.

Tracy and Chris took the upstairs bedroom in the main cabin. After examining the rooms and discovering that the downstairs bedroom was not under the upstairs bedroom, but instead under the closet and bath area, Monica had decided that she and Bill would take the downstairs bedroom in the main cabin.

Arthur and Emilia took the downstairs bedroom in the second cabin, since Arthur’s knee was bothering him, and Nicki took the upstairs bedroom. Between the cabins was about twenty feet of lawn, so it was not much bother to get from one building to the other.

Bill’s moratorium notwithstanding, the three couples (and Nicki) had quickly dragged their suitcases from the rental van to their rooms. All four bedrooms and both common areas were fully furnished. Bill claimed that the whole place was only a few years old, and it looked it. It was more like staying in an upscale hotel than camping, except for the location.

“This place is great,” Emilia said, walking into the main building’s living area hand-in-hand with Arthur. “I feel like I’m a million miles from anywhere.”

“That’s just the drive,” Bill said, looking up from where he was slumped into a couch. “We’re not all that far from the town of Othello, but the creek at the bottom of this hill is in a gulch that hasn’t been bridged. I bet we could walk into town in an hour or two if we wanted to get some Ding-Dongs or something.”

“How about a teevee?” asked Chris, coming down the stairs. “I just realized there’s no teevee in here and there’s a Braves game tonight.”

“Ignore him,” Tracy said, following Chris down the stairs. “He was just mislead by how nice our room is into thinking he was in Cancun. What a great place you found here, Bill. Thanks for inviting us.”

“My pleasure,” Bill said. “Monica will be out in a second—she wanted to change clothes after the drive.” He looked around. “Everyone pick a room? Where’s Nicki?”

“I’m here,” Nicki said, coming in from the kitchen with a glass of water. “Did you see the kitchen? You could cook for a small army in that thing.”

“Are you volunteering?” Arthur asked with a grin.

Nicki thought about it a moment, and then said “Sure, I’ll cook tonight. If we all cook one night, only one person will get away without having to cook.”

“Arthur loves to cook,” Emilia said, “don’t let him fool you. He was the one that packed all the raw ingredient type groceries.”

“I’m glad someone did,” Chris said from next to a window. “All I packed was Funyuns and some sausage.”

“Oh, Chris,” Tracy sighed dramatically, “your taste in food is terrible! Why did I ever marry you?”

“Because of my sausage,” Chris said, earning a thwack on the arm. Ducking, he asked “So, are we going to go for a walk before the sun goes down or what?”

“As soon as Monica is ready,” Bill replied.

“I’m ready,” said Monica, emerging from the bedroom. “Bill, I have to say, I have long put up with your desire to be woodsie, but this is the nicest place you have ever had us stay in. Thank you.”

“I thought you might like it,” Bill said, standing up. He stretched. “So, are we ready to go for a hike?”

“No,” said Arthur, “But I’ll go for a walk.”

“Let’s just look around this afternoon, Bill,” Tracy said. “We have a week to do real hiking.”

“Okey-dokey,” Bill said. “Let’s go see if there are any trails around here.”

“Just a sec,” Chris replied. “I need a drink before I go anywhere. Nicki, are there more glasses in the kitchen?”

“Only about seventy,” Nicki replied. “And the water tastes fantastic.”

“Now that you mention it,” said Arthur, “I’m thirsty too. I put some Sam Adams in the fridge.”

“Try the water,” said Nicki, after finishing her glass. “It’s great.”

“Yeah,” Emilia said, “Let the beer get cold. And fetch me a glass of water, too, dear.”

“Two waters, coming up,” Arthur said. “Anyone else?”

“Let’s just all go look at this kitchen,” Monica observed. “Otherwise Arthur will get distracted, and we’ll never get outside.”

“You know my husband too well,” Emilia said, rising from the sofa, and followed the group into the kitchen.

The sun set on the other side of the hill; although Monica was disappointed at not being able to watch it go down, everyone was impressed to watch the shadows of the evening creep stretch off eastwards across the wooded hills. In twenty minutes, there was only the faintest glow left over the hill, and then the world was dark.

“I bet we can see some fantastic stars tonight,” Chris said. Nicki, Emilia and Arthur were in the kitchen, and Chris, Tracy, Bill and Monica were sitting around the living room of the main cabin. Tracy was doing crossword puzzles, Monica was reading, and the men were looking at a topographical map that Bill had brought along.

“Let’s cross the ridge tomorrow,” said Chris. “I bet there’s some good fishing down Oculherp Creek here.”

“Sounds good,” Bill replied. “I want to head north along this old logging road one at some point, but we can save that for when we have had a little exercise. Oh, and Monica wants us to scout out a spot to watch the sun set in the evening.”

“Not a problem—we can check out the crest of our hill when we head out in the morning. Hey Arthur,” Chris called into the kitchen, “you want to go fishing tomorrow?”

“Sure thing,” Arthur said, walking into the common room. “As long as we don’t have to hike too far to get there.”

“Naw, we’re going to start just across the hill and see what’s that like. If we leave at seven, we should be back by ten or eleven. Then in the afternoon we can do some real hiking. Say, I see the apron is off. Is dinner ready?”

“Very perspicacious of you. Come on in for dinner, folks.”

“It smells great,” Tracy said. “What is it?”

“Nicki has cooked up a batch of chili, and I made some jalapeno cornbread to go with it. And Emilia made the vegetables.”

“I suppose someone has to,” Bill said, as he propelled himself towards the kitchen.

“Wash your hands, Bill,” Monica said, heading to the downstairs bathroom. Bill sighed, and altered course.

“We’ll be sure to leave you some, Bill,” Chris said.

“You wash your hands too,” Tracy instructed him, clamping a hand on his shoulder. “Men. You’d eat with your hands if we weren’t around.”

“Hey, there’s an idea,” Chris said, and laughed as Tracy pushed him towards the bathroom.

Emilia closed the bedroom door and stretched. Arthur was in the bathroom, brushing his teeth.

“That was great, love,” she said, pulling her shirt off over her head. “And I think Nicki was grateful for the help.”

“Mrf Brf Bu Brf Brf” Arthur replied from the bathroom. Emilia laughed and shucked her jeans, then undid her bra and pulled her robe from the suitcase. She slid her arms into the silk, then took off her cotton panties and put her underwear and shirt in the dirty clothes bag, on top of Arthur’s shirt and briefs. Stretching, she headed for the bathroom.

“It’s a bit strange to be going to bed at nine-thirty,” she observed, entering the large carpeted bathroom. Arthur was spitting into the sink.

“In the country, you go to bed when it gets dark,” he replied.

She laughed. “This is hardly the country,” she said, “we have electrical power and running water.”

“Well water,” he said, “ten times better than city water.” He said something else as she washed her face in the sink.

“I missed that,” she said, standing up and reaching for a towel.

“I was just observing,” he said, pressing himself up behind her, “that you were right. It is early... whatever shall we do to amuse ourselves?”

“I can tell that’s a rhetorical question,” Emilia replied, pushing back against him, “by some very solid evidence right here.” She stood up and leaned back into his chest, sliding a hand down his trousers to lightly wrap her fingers around his very hard cock.

“Well,” he answered, “I may have a few ideas, yes.” He craned his neck, and they kissed for a long moment.

“A few very good ideas,” she said when they broke for air. “But what about Nicki? She’s upstairs you know.”

“First off,” Arthur said, stepping back with a raised eyebrow, “she knows exactly what we are going to be doing down here. She may be ten years younger than we are, but she’s not exactly naïve.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Emilia replied, approaching Arthur with slow, deliberate steps. “And what is it that are we going to be doing?” she asked as he retreated backwards away from her, grinning.

“Why,” he said, as his back bumped into the far wall. He reached around the corner, gripped the knob, and with a hiss the shower burst into life. “Showering.” He dropped his pants, cock springing erect, and hopped into the stall. “Coming?”

Her robe dropped from her shoulders, and she stepped away from it.

Emilia yawned, and rolled over in the bed again. There was sun spilling into the room through the closed blinds, and she wondered idly if she had missed breakfast. She yawned and turned the other way. Her whole body felt kind of loose and stretched-out, and the bed was just sooo comfortable.

She vaguely recalled Arthur kissing her on the forehead as he headed out early that morning. Boys and their fishing. Back at home, she was usually the first one out of bed. Another long yawn, and she sat up, rubbing at her eyes. Why had she slept so late? The immediate answer brought a naughty smile to her face. Ah, right.

Still, Arthur had been able to get up with the sun. Maybe she had just needed sleep. Tentatively, she set her feet on the wooden floor. It was pleasantly cool rather than cold, and Emilia enjoyed the feel on her bare feet as she padded her way over to a window. One hand idly scratched her pubic hair as she bent the blinds open.

The clearing was brilliantly sunlit, the lawn which ran between the cabins a bright emerald hue. Emilia squinted and peered around. It looked like everyone was off doing something.... no, there was Tracy. She was lying on a lawn chair, in the center of the grassy area just south of the cabins. There was a book lying next to her on the grass, but although her eyes were hidden behind black sunglasses, she appeared to be napping.

Emilia chuckled to herself. Trust Tracy to bring along a racy pink bikini to catch rays in. She licked her lips. The woman did look good in it, she had to admit. She had the sort of breasts most women wished they had, full but without a lot of sag to them, and even if her waistline wasn’t waspishly thin she did look good in a bikini, all oiled up and smooth.

In fact, she looked really, really good. Ignoring a slight feeling of voyeuristic guilt, Emilia stared at her friend on the lawn. She was almost naked, lying there in that little thing. Emilia’s eyes ran along her smooth hips, down her thighs, up along the little groove in the center of her belly. Would it be fun to touch that smooth body, to slide her hands along the swells and hollows of flesh that were shining so alluringly in the sun? As her gaze reached Tracy’s full lips, Tracy’s tongue slid out to moisten them, and Emilia’s breath caught. She didn’t even notice as the hand at her crotch, which had idled, began to slowly stroke a finger up, and down...

A sudden knocking at the door caused Emilia to jump. “Emilia?” came Nicki’s voice from the other side.

“Yeah,” said Emilia, dropping the blinds closed and jogging to the closet. “Lemme throw on some clothes.”

“I was going to go for a walk and wanted to know if you wanted to come,” Nicki said through the closed door.

“Sure,” Emilia replied. “I’ll be outside in a jiff.” She slid on some panties and reached for a bra. As she was fastening it, the image of Tracy lying so close to naked on the lawn came back to her. “Why was that so arousing?” thought Emilia. “I’ve never been turned on by girls before.” But the mental image wouldn’t leave, and after pulling on a t-shirt and buckling up her shorts, she guiltily returned to the window for another peek.

The deck chair was empty. Emilia didn’t know whether the feeling that came over her was more relief or disappointment. With a shrug, she pulled on some shorts and headed for the door.

“Tracy and Monica didn’t want to come along?” Emilia asked, leaves and twigs crunching underfoot. Like Nicki, she was in shorts and a t-shirt, her only concession to being out in the country being her hiking boots and thick socks up to mid-calf.

“Nope,” Nicki replied. “They wanted to have some personal time, I guess. Monica was reading one of those V.C. Andrews novels on a sofa, and Tracy was,” Nicki looked aside, “Well, you saw what Tracy was up to.”

“Yeah,” Emilia chuckled. “Only Tracy would pack a bikini on a camping trip.”

“She and Chris are such city-slickers,” Nicki observed, picking up a stick and twirling it in one hand. “He went out fishing in tennis shoes this morning.”

“Wow. And did you see all the bottled water he brought? As though we were off in the Sahara or something.”

Nicki paused, and Emilia looked back at her as she wiped an arm across her forehead. “It’s not dry out here, that’s for sure,” she said. Emilia nodded, and waited as Nicki pulled out a sports bottle.

The woods were sunlit, the forest canopy just thick enough to cover the floor in shade but not so thick as to keep out the light. It was a drowsy sort of morning, the bugs buzzing in the undergrowth and the air still. Emilia looked at the sweat beads on Nicki’s upper lip. There was something sensual about them, and Emilia idly pictured herself tasting them, dabbing at them with her tongue as the two of them lay together...

She shook her head. Where had that come from? Nicki was looking at her strangely, and Emilia gave her a quick smile and said “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Nicki said with a distracted air. “Lead on.”

The girls could smell the camp before they actually reached it, a scent of barbeque drifting through the woods as they retraced their steps. Nicki was now in the lead, her calves shining with sweat as they neared the cabins. Emilia followed behind. They had only gone out for forty minutes or so, but the weather was muggy even in the shade of the trees, and her shirt clung to her chest and back.

Emilia was feeling a bit disturbed by how many times she caught herself scoping out Nicki. The girl had a great ass, but Emilia found herself staring at it not just to size it up, the way women size up other women, but because she was just enjoying looking at it. Luckily, Nicki appeared to have not noticed the frequent too-long stares, for which Emilia was thankful. She took another suck on her water bottle.

Although her plan had been to get back to her room so she could do something about the burgeoning distraction her libido was becoming, the smell of cooking changed those plans immediately.

“That smells fantastic,” Nicki said, pausing at the edge of the clearing. She squinted into the sunlight.

“Double fantastic,” Emilia said. Glancing at Nicki, who had stopped to look at the cabins, Emilia very deliberately did not look at her breasts, molded into her shirt by sweat, and strode across the grass towards the smell of cooking. Little white jumping insects fled before her tread.

Her heart nearly stopped as she rounded the cabin and saw Tracy. She was cooking on a kettle grill in the center of the space between the cabins, but the only concession she had made in her apparel was a big apron. Under it, she was still in her pink bikini. And lots of tanning oil. Emilia suddenly wanted desperately to touch her, to slide her arms around that smooth belly beneath the apron, to run her hands up and over her full breasts, to trace along the slick buttocks and perhaps under the pink scrap of fabric that bulged so enticingly between her thighs.

Nicki drew up next to her and stifled a gasp.

They stood stock still for a moment, then Tracy spotted them and waved. Blushing, shaking her head, Emilia waved back and resumed walking over. Nicki followed.

“Monica thought I should cook some lunch,” Tracy said. “Burgers good for you?”

“They smell great,” Emilia heard herself saying. “When will they be ready?”

“In five minutes or so,” Tracy replied. Emilia envied Tracy her sunglasses—with a pair of her own, she wouldn’t be so obvious ogling the other woman.

“I’ve got to, um, go get changed,” Nicki said, brushing past towards the second cabin.

“Yeah, me too,” Emilia said, following quickly.

“Well,” said Tracy behind them, “don’t spend too much time getting changed. You’ll want these while they’re hot.”

The boys returned in the early afternoon. Much to Emilia’s relief (and disappointment) Tracy had changed into shorts and a tank top. She, Emilia, and Monica were playing cards in the shade of the outdoor table’s sun umbrella. Nicki had pleaded too much fresh air and gone inside to read.

Emilia smiled as she looked up from her hand. “The mighty hunters have returned. How was the fishing.”

“It was okay,” Chris said.

“Just okay? Do you have any fish?” Monica asked, putting her hand on the table.

“We have some,” Bill replied. He lifted the lid of his creel, and Monica peered inside.

“Jeez, Bill,” she said, “that’s not just some. You guys limited out, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Bill replied. There was a moment of quiet.

“Are you sick or something?” Monica asked. “Usually you come into camp crowing if you catch one fish, and now you come in with your limit and you don’t say word one about it.”

Bill shrugged. Monica rolled her eyes.

“Well, go into the kitchen and clean them,” she said, “and you can cook them for dinner.”

Bill turned and headed for the kitchen.

“Come here, honey,” Tracy said, beckoning Chris. “Can I get a kiss from the mighty hunter?”

Chris moved around the table and leaned over to kiss Tracy. Emilia looked away as Tracy took his chin in one hand and pulled him in.

Looking at Arthur, she asked “So what do you guys want to do for the rest of the afternoon?”

Arthur looked off across the meadow, then shrugged.

“Come on, surely you developed some sort of plan while you were out there.” She reached down to scratch her ankle. “Hiking? More fishing? Or did you just want to sit around and read?”

“I don’t know,” he replied.

“How about you, honey?” Tracy asked. Chris looked at her and shrugged.

“Whatever,” he said.

“Men,” she laughed. “When they finally get the chance to do whatever they want to do, they don’t have the energy for it. Well, you guys go get cleaned up, and think about what you want to do. We still have a few hands to play.”

The two men trudged off to their rooms.

They didn’t come back, so after another half an hour Emilia went to check on Arthur. She found him sitting naked on the edge of the bed.

“Um, Arthur?” she asked.

“Yes?” he replied.

“What are you doing?”

“Thinking about what I want to do this afternoon.”

She blinked, and walked around to sit next to him. “And?” she asked. “Come up with anything?”

“No.”

“Are you feeling okay?” She put a hand on his forehead.

“Yes,” he replied.

“But you don’t want to do anything.”

“No.”

“Well,” she said, “okay. Why don’t you come outside and read with the rest of us?”

“Okay.” He stood up and fetched his book from the nightstand. Emilia watched as he walked to the door before interjecting “Um...”

Arthur stopped.

“Aren’t you going to put on some clothes?”

He wore a puzzled look as he turned around again. “Oh,” he said, “yes.” He walked to the suitcase.

Emilia watched him dress, then followed him outside. He sat down on the lounger Tracy had been using that morning, now pulled into the shade.

“Emilia, are you coming back or what?” Monica demanded from the table.

“Yeah, yeah,” Emilia replied distractedly. Arthur, a look of concentration on his face, turned a page. She shook her head. That fishing trip had really sapped the guys’ energy. Somehow, she wasn’t worried too much, and that was odd. Whatever it was, she felt that it should probably be bothering her a bit more than it was. Shrugging, she walked back to the table. The boys were probably just tired. They’d be fine tomorrow.

No one had felt like doing anything much that afternoon. Arthur read his book, Chris puttered around at various things, tying flies, reading a bit, gathering firewood. Tracy went for a walk with Nicki for about an hour, and returned with skinned knees and some great landscape shots on her digital camera.

Emilia tried not to stare at anyone. When Nicki and Tracy had left to see if they could find a scenic view, she had at first been relieved, but soon found herself staring at Monica. It was like finding herself scratching an itch—she would be reading, or watching a hawk cruise by overhead, she’d let her mind wander, and then find herself staring down Monica’s shirt while the other woman leaned over to pick up her drink.

The odd thing was, it wasn’t really worrying her. She had always been straight as an arrow, and now she was behaving like a teenage boy scoping out her friends—even fantasizing about them—but it didn’t seem that odd. Still, she didn’t want to be caught, so after Nicki (God, she was cute) and Tracy (those breasts!) returned, Emilia went to find Bill and get involved in dinner. A focus would be good.

She found Chris and Bill in the common room of the main cabin. Chris was sitting at the table, looking at the topographical maps he and Bill had been poring over the previous evening. Bill was sitting on a sofa, staring out the window.

“Bill,” Emilia said, and he turned to face her, “shall we get started cooking dinner?”

His face took on a puzzled expression.

Emilia sighed. “Bill,” she reiterated, “it’s time to cook dinner.”

He nodded, stood up, and walked towards the kitchen. Emilia turned to follow him, when Chris spoke up.

“Emilia?” he said in a timorous tone.

“Yes,” she asked, turning around.

“What’s... what’s happening to us?” he asked in a weak voice.

“What do you mean?” she said. For some reason, she felt very unsympathetic towards him. He was keeping her from the kitchen, and she had to oversee Bill.

“I can’t seem to concentrate,” he said, looking down at the map. “I... we wanted to do things, but now I just don’t seem to care about anything. I should care, shouldn’t I? Why doesn’t anything seem to matter?”

Emilia shrugged. “Only you can answer that,” she said. “Was there anything else?”

He gave her a weak, pleading look, then dropped his eyes. “I guess not.”

“Good. Dinner will be in an hour.” She walked out of the room wondering why Chris was suddenly so annoying.

The fish made an excellent supper. Emilia hardly had to direct Bill at all, just tell him to cook the fish and let him go. She made a salad with orange slices and a wine vinegar dressing. They didn’t speak.

It was still quite light, so they ate outside. Tracy had changed clothes yet again into a loose blouse. It wasn’t helping—Emilia kept staring at her waiting for her to shift position so that her body would be highlighted where the fabric was taut against it. When she caught herself, she’d stare into her cards.

The four women were playing cards again; with the boys uninterested in doing anything (and uninteresting, to boot), they had decided to put off the expedition to the rock overlook Nicki and Tracy had discovered, and go see the sunset some other night. They had all week. So they sat outside in the soft evening air as the shadows lengthened over the hills again. Bill had cleared the dishes, and was in the kitchen washing them. Arthur and Chris were around somewhere. Emilia didn’t really think about them.

In fact, Emilia was having serious trouble just looking at any of the women at the table with her without having lascivious thoughts rearing up. Monica would play a card, and instead of following suit Emilia would let her gaze drift up Monica’s wrist and forearm, wondering how soft her skin was. Or Nicki would bid, and Emilia would get hooked on her lips, how the white light from the cabin’s outdoor flood reflected harshly on top of the smooth orange color from the setting sun. Would those orange lips taste like orange, or would they taste better?

Finally it was too much. If she didn’t get away, she was going to jump one of them right there at the table. The light was almost gone at any rate, so using that as an excuse Emilia bowed out and headed for the second cabin.

Arthur was in bed already when Emilia entered the bedroom. She glanced at him. He was blankly looking off into space, the sheets up to his midriff. Usually she liked to rest her head on his fuzzy chest, but tonight it was totally uninteresting. Anyway, he seemed distracted.

Somehow she felt she should be worried about him, but at the same time everything seemed to be the way it should be. He certainly wasn’t complaining.

“You ready for bed?” she asked, finding her nightgown where she had left it.

“Yes,” he replied.

“Brush your teeth and everything?”

“Yes.”

“Ah. Good.” She didn’t know what to say next. She felt like she should say something more, but another part of her found that to be silly. What was there to say? It wasn’t like she needed to tell him anything. She decided to take a shower and think about it.

Shrugging, she changed out of her clothes. She went into the bathroom (and why was the bathroom carpeted when the bedroom had a hardwood floor?), and walked over to the shower. As she reached for the knob, she hesitated. Nicki had—Nicki... whatever she had been about to think was completely derailed as a picture of Nicki raced into her mind. Beautiful Nicki. Emilia’s heart started beating faster as she pictured Nicki in her tight white shirt, her breasts swelling the fabric. Nicki’s calves on the trail in front of her. Her ass in those tight shorts she wore. Her lips.

Emilia blinked. What had she been thinking? Oh, right, Nicki had said she was going to take a shower. It would be inconsiderate to use the water before Nicki had taken her shower. Nicki in the shower. Naked. What did Nicki’s nipples look like? What did Nicki look like, wet? Her neck-length deep brown hair slick against her head. Emilia’s knuckles visible in it as she kissed her, pushed her own naked body against Nicki’s...

Gasping, she leaned against the wall. What was happening to her? Her crotch was on fire—she’d never felt lust like this. She had to stop, to think about it. She needed someone to talk to. Who? Arthur wasn’t going to be any help. But Nicki was right upstairs... Nicki...

She pushed off from the wall. She would go upstairs and tell Nicki that she could go ahead and use the hot water. Even as Emilia formed the thought, she knew it was a lie, but she clung to it. She was going to tell Nicki to take her shower first. It was courtesy. Never mind the wetness sliding between her legs with each step. She was just going upstairs to be nice. The pictures of herself pushing against Nicki, sweatily entwined with her, faces clamped to each other—that wasn’t why she was walking past a passive Arthur, opening her door, ascending the stairs. Wasn’t why her heart was jackhammering in her chest as she tapped at Nicki’s door.

The door opened, and Emilia did not throw herself on the beautiful woman who opened it.

“Em...?” Nicki asked. Her face was flushed, and her eyes met Emilia’s only to drop away.

“I... ah...” Emilia tried not to sound like she was panting. “Can I come in?”

“OhGodYes,” Nicki replied, then blushed and turned away. She stepped away from the door, and Emilia took a few steps inside. She wet her lips to say something.

Nicki turned back to face her. “Emilia—I—I...” Nicki stammered. Her face was flushed, her breath short. “Oh God. Emilia, I...” She was panting, actually panting.

“Nicki...” Emilia began.

“Fuck me, Emilia,” Nicki blurted out. “Oh God, I need you to fuck me. Need it so bad. You are so beautiful, so fucking beautiful, and I need you so much...”

“Oh God, Nicki,” Emilia said, and swept her into her arms, kissing her. Nicki kissed her back passionately, and their arms clutched and slid behind each other’s back as they pushed their lips together, frantically groping and touching.

With difficulty, Emilia pushed Nicki’s hands away long enough to pull her nightgown up over her head. As she broke the kiss, Nicki began to babble softly. “I need you so much so much I want to touch suck every inch of your body so much” and then their mouths were back together again, this time with tongues dueling first in Nicki’s mouth, then in Emilia’s.

Nicki ran her hands over Emilia’s nude body, gently gripping her breasts from beneath, sliding over them, kneading them, then sliding down to her bare ass, gripping it, feeling, touching.

Emilia pushed Nicki’s bathrobe off her arms to pool on the floor. Pressed together like one body they stumbled towards the bed. The back of Nicki’s legs bumped into it, and then they fell onto the bed. Emilia’s mouth slid down off of Nicki’s, over her chin and down her neck. Nicki’s hands slid up to Emilia’s shoulders, as Emilia suckled at her breasts. Then Emilia slid further down, leaving Nicki moaning and clutching at the air.

She wanted to make love to Nicki, to touch her all over and stroke her slowly to orgasm, but something else was in charge now, something animal and needy, and it drove Emilia’s mouth down across Nicki’s stomach, through the dark hair covering her mound and directly to her slit, already soaking with need. Emilia’s rear end slid off the bed, but she barely noticed as she plunged her face back between Nicki’s legs.

Nicki moaned and cried as Emilia sucked on her. There was a texture, a taste, that Emilia had never known but was all she wanted, all she ever wanted. It tasted so good, like flesh and like sex, that smell that Emilia thought of as her own scent after a good fucking. And just a little like malt. Emilia’s tongue slithered along, and across, and inside, and her lips pulsed and sucked on Nicki’s other, tender lips, tasting and licking and nursing at this cunt pressed against her face like a flower in a book.

Then Nicki’s back arched even further, and her hips began to buck against Emilia’s face, and with a jerk she pulled her crotch from Emilia’s nursing mouth. Emilia moved to follow it, but Nicki put a hand to her forehead, hips bucking and soft cries coming from her open mouth. As her spasms dwindled, she looked at the face staring at her from under her fingers, and raggedly gasped “My turn.”

Emilia vaulted onto the bed, spreading her legs in a sitting position and leaning back. Driven by the same new needs, Nicki dove right in, her arms sliding under Emilia’s akimbo legs and wrapping around them, locking herself in.

There was a pause, and Emilia, slightly confused, looked down at the dark-haired girl between her legs, face inches from her trembling pussy. Nicki was staring directly at Emilia’s glistening labia.

“What am I... I’ve never... but I neeeed...” Nicki mumbled, then with a soft moan pushed her face forward, drooling mouth clasping onto Emilia’s slit, tongue flicking across her labia, then slowing down and beginning long, slow strokes, tasting and sucking.

Emilia lashed her head back, and disappeared into bliss.

“Wow,” Nicki said, sprawling bonelessly on the bed, head on Emilia’s stomach. “Wow. That was so... good. I didn’t know... wow.” She rolled her head over to look at Emilia. “I’ve never... with a woman. But... wow.”

Emilia just smiled at her. They looked at each other for a moment, then Nicki tried again. “You know, I was lusting after you all day. I almost leapt on top of you after dinner, but Tracy and Monica were there.”

“Really?” Emilia replied. “Because I was staring at your body all day, too. Especially on our hike.”

“Yeah, I know.” Nicki paused. “I liked it, too. I kept hiking my shorts so they would be tighter across my butt.” She looked away. “I thought about saying something, but then we got back to camp and...”

There was a moment of quiet. Night birds called outside.

“Tracy,” Emilia finally said.

“Yeah,” Nicki replied. “She was so hot in that bikini.”

Emilia reached down, took Nicki under the shoulders, pulled her up the bed. “We’ll just have to have her then, won’t we?” she asked, looking into Nicki’s eyes.

“Can we?” Nicki said. “She looked so delicious...”

“Oh yes,” Emilia said, “we will get her.” She chuckled. “If what’s happened to us is any indication, she’s probably screwing Monica right now.”

“You think so?”

Smiling, Emilia began to stroke Nicki’s hair. “Well, have you ever wanted to sleep with a woman before?”

“No...”

“It’s this place, Nicki. It’s done something to us.”

Nicki blinked.

“Don’t you feel different?” Emilia asked.

“Yeah,” she replied, slowly. “I do. Sexier. Better.”

“Me too,” Emilia said.

“So what do we do?”

Emilia smiled crookedly. “Well, what you do, is slither down that way a little bit and eat my pussy again. What I’m gonna do is enjoy it. Then, later on, we can switch.”

“Oh,” said Nicki, then she stuck out her tongue and began to lick her way down the bed.

Emilia woke late in the morning with Nicki next to her. She sighed in satisfaction.

It was as though she had been sick, and was now well—her whole body felt good. Not just normal, but good. Very like recovering from an illness—as though she had forgotten how good she was supposed to feel. She pushed her arms over her head, and stretched.

And started. Pulling her hand down in front of her, she stared at it. It looked the same as always, slightly delicate, the bones of her hand making visible rises in the flesh. But as she cupped it in her other hand, and pushed... the fingers bent back, and back, until they lay against the top of her hand. When she released them, they dropped back into place.

Double-jointed. She had never been particularly flexible, much less double jointed. But, it appeared, she was now. And moreso than she had ever heard of. Concentrating, she clenched her hand back the wrong way. She stared at her hand in disbelief as she made a backwards fist.

People just weren’t built that way! Muscles ran in a particular direction—you couldn’t just become reversible! Her eyes slid farther up her arm, and she tentatively straightened it, then slowly began to bend the elbow back the wrong way...

She should be worried about this. She should be wigging out right about now. But for some reason, she wasn’t. In fact, it was exciting. She gingerly put weight on her right arm, the arm folded backwards at the elbow and wrist like a scorpion’s tail, and it supported her. More than that, it felt strong. And, although she was surprised, she wasn’t worried at all. Which was also a bit of a surprise.

Nicki shifted in bed, then looked over at her. Her eyes widened. “Emilia?”

“Nicki,” Emilia said, looking at her lover with new eyes. “Can you...?”

Blinking, looking at her own hand, Nicki gingerly bent a finger back a little... then more... then all the way back against her hand. “But I’m not...” Nicki whispered.

“You are now,” Emilia smiled. “Don’t you feel good?”

Nicki exhaled. “I do. I feel great. Emilia, what’s happened to us?”

“I don’t know,” Emilia said, “But I like it. I feel so strong, so alive.” She pursed her lips. “And now...”

“What?” Nicki asked.

“Now, I am going to take a shower.” Emilia stood up, as a memory flittered across her mind but evaporated before she could seize upon it. “Want to join me?”

Nicki rolled and stretched, bulging and bowing the sheets. “I’m gonna nap a bit longer.”

“Suit yourself.” Emilia walked naked to the bathroom, turned on the hot water. Looking out the window, she could see the sun still low in the sky, and realized it wasn’t as late as she had suspected. A cloud of steam announced the shower’s attainment of a good temperature, and she stepped into the large stall.

The hot water felt marvelous. Emilia gargled, and swallowed. She could feel strange stretchings in all her joints, as though she had been doing yoga for hours. Bending her knee, she raised her leg, surprised and gratified as it kept rising without resistance until it was parallel to her torso—she then unbent her knee, and had one leg firmly on the floor and the other toe touching the shower ceiling in a position she had only ever seen olympic gymnasts attain. She chuckled as she realized she could lick herself, and decided that masturbation might be more interesting in the future...

Wanting to tell Nicki, she turned to the shower door, then realized she could kind of ‘see’ Nicki already. As though she could see through the wall, she could sense Nicki where she lay on the bed.

Startled, she let her leg drop, and stepped dripping wet out of the running shower. Nicki gave her a strange look as she entered the bedroom covered in water droplets.

“Emilia? The shower is still running.”

“I can see your mind, Nicki.”

Because that’s what it was. Overlaid with her visual image of Nicki was a ball of energy, a glowing mass made of millions of strands like a fractal ball of yarn. And it was Nicki’s mind. Emilia closed her eyes and stared at it.

New instincts were awakening. She knew, somehow, what the threads of Nicki’s mind were, different colors representing different emotions and impulses. It was a changing mass, shifting, glowing. Right now a growing yellow thread of confusion was on the surface, and Emilia reached out to touch it.

Nicki squeaked. “I felt that!” she said. “You were in my head!”

The yellow flared into bright life. As the confusion turned into worry, the thread darkened into orange—and all writ large at the surface of Nicki’s mind.

As though she were outside her body, watching herself, Emilia reached out again with her mind, touching the worry-thread, squeezing it, softening it, shrinking it.

“What are you doing to me, Emilia?” Nicki whispered.

“Just... just... there...” Emilia whispered back. It was instinctual, it was automatic. It was what her type—whatever type she was now—what her type did.

And it was so easy. Nicki’s mind was so malleable, like a loose knot of thousands of strands. It would be so natural—so right—to slide some strands out, to push others in, to re-weave the tangled skein into something smoother and purer.

Emilia didn’t know what she was doing. And Emilia did know what she was doing. In any case, she couldn’t stop herself.

“It’s... my mind, Emilia,” Nicki whispered. “You are changing my mind.”

“Shhh. It’s okay, Nicki. Shhh.” Emilia found another discordant thread, another pulsing orange, and wrapped her mind around it, squeezing it, snuffing it. Nicki exhaled.

“What was that, Nicki?” Emilia whispered.

“My worry,” Nicki replied. “I can feel you in my head, pushing around, and then I could feel my worry... die. It’s just gone. I was worried you might hurt me, but now I am not. You took it away.”

“Does it bother you, Nicki? Bother you that I can change your thoughts?”

Nicki’s mouth opened, then hung there. “I... no. Somehow, no. It should, I think, but it doesn’t.” She could feel Emilia in her head, moving around, finding small things she didn’t like and altering them. “Did you do that to me? Make me comfortable with it?”

Emilia paused. “No, I don’t think so,” she said. “I guess I could, but I haven’t.”

Nicki lay back on the bed. Intellectually, she knew she should be completely terrified of having her mind changed so easily, but she wasn’t. A thought occurred to her.

“Emilia?”

“Yes, Nicki?” Emilia replied, glassy-eyed, lost in her exploration of Nicki’s mind.

“I can’t help but think that I should be worried. Can you... would you take that away?”

“I’ll try, Nicki,” Emilia said, and began to hunt through the tangled threads. They were all sorts of colors, and although new-Emilia knew how to move them around, change and remove them, she didn’t quite know what she was looking for.

Then she found it, a thin but strong purple line, an intellectual thought, and she pulled at it firmly until it came away, disappearing as it was removed.

Nicki sighed. “Yes... yes. That was it. Now I don’t even think I should be worried. Why worry about it? My mind was meant to be open to you.” She smiled as she lay on the bed. Emilia pulled back to herself, saw using her eyes again rather than her mind. The sight of Nicki lying naked and relaxed on the bed made her think of sex again.

“I wonder,” Emilia said to herself. She pushed at Nicki’s mind, putting words at the front of her mind, giving them to Nicki. The brunette blinked, startled.

“Did you hear that, Nicki?” Emilia asked.

“You told me to go take a shower,” Nicki whispered. “But you didn’t say anything.”

Emilia smiled in triumph. She picked up Nicki’s hand, brought it to her mouth. Smiling, she slid one of Nicki’s fingers into her mouth and sucked on it.

“So why,” she thought at Nicki, “aren’t you in the shower yet?”

The water crashed on in the bathroom. Time to explore her new powers a bit further, Emilia thought. Focusing inward, she let her eyes lose focus, concentrating on Nicki’s mind in the shower. She couldn’t see the girl’s wet body, but she could see her mind, still a whirl of colors. The predominant color was the green Emilia now recognized as docility, but there were also threads—strong purples, blues, flashes of red or yellow.

Time to look elsewhere. She thought of Arthur, probably still downstairs in bed, and focused her thoughts that way. At first she thought that perhaps her mind couldn’t reach that far, but then she realized that Arthur’s mind was simply hard to see. It was gray, totally devoid of color. Having found it, she moved in towards it, studying it. Compared to Nicki’s mind, it was almost dead. The shape was the same, a fractal morass of thoughts and memories, but there was no emotion, no impulse.

Curious, she created a little blue impulse, a simple desire—in this case, to scratch—and wove it into the dull gray mind. She could almost sense the male blink and start to softly scratch himself, but then the impulse was satisfied, and it dulled into nothingness.

Fascinating. Somehow Emilia was not surprised that the mind of a male was without motivation. But there were other minds that may have other surprises...

She focused outward again, towards the other cabin. There should be two minds of interest there, one of them being the toothsome Tracy. She searched the common room, found only a gray deadmind, and redirected her thoughts to the bedroom.

Monica was sleeping. Her mind was a lightshow of color, pulsing especially with the strong red of dominance. Emilia chuckled. Monica’s mind was precisely what she expected it to be, a chaos of impulse and prejudice united by the strong desire to have things her way. But where was Tracy?

She began to move upstairs, but stopped. In the bedroom with Monica was another mind, but it wasn’t the colorful weave Emilia was expecting for Tracy’s mind. In fact, it was only one color.

Green.

Shocked, Emilia focused in on it. It was alive, unlike the mind of the males, but it had been ravaged, raped—she could see where the threads of Tracy’s mind had been pulled out wholesale. Although Emilia had never seen Tracy’s new mind with her own, she knew there should be the reds and oranges of desire and worry, the purples of intellectual thought, the blues of physical needs.

There was nothing but smooth, glowing green. Tracy’s mind had been shredded, leaving only soft, submissive desires. In fact, Emilia could see new desires that had been plugged in, strong new green cords binding what was left of Tracy’s self. Becoming Tracy’s self. Emilia breathed deeply as she realized that her buxom friend no longer had any wants of her own beyond an irresistible new need to obey.

Tracy had become tracy.

Emilia thought quickly. Monica must have done it. And if Emilia didn’t want to become emilia, she had to learn how. She could guess—she had played with Nicki’s mind sufficiently to try such a thing—but she had to know. She flexed her new knuckles and grasped the bedsheets. Using instincts at once inborn and as new as that morning, she reached into tracy’s head, found the memory of last night, and dove in.

So fucking horny. Tracy moaned. God damn, she was horny.

She thought of Chris. Ironically, it seemed to calm her down. She punched at the pillow—he was asleep next to her. He’d always been a deep sleeper. Normally she’d just wake him up and jump his bones, but every time she thought about doing so her raging libido quieted. It wasn’t him she wanted, it was Emilia.

Or Monica. Or Nicki.

God, seeing that young woman with her short hair held back by a bandana emerge from the woods this morning, like some sort of L.L. Bean nymph... Tracy’s nipples had damn near poked holes in her bikini top. Shit, there she went again. She couldn’t think about any damn thing but girl sex.

Then she heard footsteps upstairs. Immediately, she knew it was Monica. Monica, with that kinky brown hair and that wonderful Roman nose. God, how she’d love to dive in between Monica’s legs. Tracy shook her head, thought of Chris again.

What the fuck had come over her? She’d slept with women before, back in college, but it was always a lark, fun but not really Fucking, not like with a man. But now... she hesitantly slid a finger beneath the covers, gingerly touched herself, and even prepared she gasped and twitched as her finger settled on her slit.

God, the bed was wet beneath her ass. This had to stop. With a sigh, Tracy slid out of bed, tip-toed to the door. Maybe she could masturbate to the Vogues in the common room.

Silently closing the door behind her, Tracy was startled to see Monica already in the common room. And, of course, then a wave of lust struck her.

Monica was staring at her. “Tracy?” she said.

“Mmmmonica,” Tracy gasped. God, she was really losing it.

“God, Tracy, you are so horny. I thought I needed it, but... damn.”

Tracy blinked. ‘How did you know?’ she thought, but what she said was “So horrrny...” She bit her lip and began walking towards Monica. Half expecting Monica to become nervous, she was surprised as the other woman simply kept staring at her.

“What are you, what are you looking at?” Tracy managed as she rounded the sofa.

“Your mind,” Monica said. “I can see it. Your need. It’s... incandescent. I’m surprised you aren’t raping me right now.”

Tracy chuckled. “Iron self-control,” she said, stopping with only a foot of burning air between her and Monica. “But I... may I...” She licked her lips. “May I eat your pussy?”

Monica just stared at her. Something touched her behind the eyebrows, and she twitched. “Was that you?”

“It worked,” Monica said. Tracy felt the touch in her mind again. “I can change things...”

“Stop it,” Tracy said, concentrating. “Get out of my head.”

The touch vanished. Monica’s blinked, and her focus moved back from staring through Tracy to looking at her. God, she had such beautiful blue-gray eyes.

“You can keep me out,” she said, surprised.

“Damn tootin’,” Tracy replied.

Monica looked at her, then a smile crooked the corners of her mouth.

“But Tracy,” she said, “I can soothe you. Don’t you want that? Let me in, and I’ll calm that lust that is distracting you.”

Just mentioning it brought it back, and Tracy almost dropped to her knees. She was so, so horny. So hard to think. Had to do something. Gingerly, she opened her mind to Monica’s probing.

And it was back, the touch in her head, and suddenly she was calmer, rational, the burning need banked and cooling.

“You see, Tracy? I can calm you down.”

“Oh God, Monica,” Tracy said, “I was so horny.” She collapsed onto the sofa.

Monica turned, took a step away. The room was quiet, moonlit.

“Or,” Monica said, turning back, eyes wide, “I can inflame you.”

And it was back, the need, only doubled, re-doubled. Tracy lurched forward, fell to her knees. Her pussy was a candle, a torch, no, a pyre, demanding mouth and fingers and tongue. Uncontrollable, she grabbed at herself with both hands and started furiously frigging, one hand stroking and the other slamming fingers inside. She collapsed onto her side, frantically masturbating.

“Tracy,” Monica said, and her voice cut through the red haze of lust like an executioner’s axe, “wouldn’t you rather have this?”

Tracy looked up at Monica to find her holding her nightgown up, above her waist. Her brown-furred pussy was bare, and wet enough to glisten in the moonlight. Tracy wasn’t the only one dripping with need.

Tracy moaned in lust at the sight.

“Come, Tracy,” Monica said. “Feed on me. Feed and forget.”

Tracy grunted, hands seeking purchase on the floor, and crawled forward to latch her mouth on Monica’s pussy. Monica gave a soft cry as Tracy’s hot lips pressed against her dripping slit, and barely remained standing as her knees went weak. Her hips began to slowly undulate as Tracy’s tongue slid deep into her.

“Oh,” she breathed, “that’s good.” She looked down at the head bobbing in her crotch with a wicked smile. “And very distracting. Get used to this, Tracy. You’re going to be on your knees for a long time.”

Behind the huge blue sexneed that distracted Tracy from anything other than the pussy she was tasting, Monica went to work.

“Emilia? Emilia?” Nicki was leaning over the bed, worry in her voice.

Emilia swam back to self. About the second thing she noticed was that Nicki’s hair was wet. She hadn’t been distracted for long. Time enough to consider her options.

Petting Nicki reassuringly on the head, she realized there was only one outcome. Monica, or her, would become dominant. The other would be brain-smoothed, turned into an obedient green. That was how things were. How they had to be. Only one of them could own herself. The other would be owned.

Some part of her wondered at her lack of sympathy for tracy, but that part was a small part, rapidly dying.

Monica had the advantage. She knew how to attack, how to break into a mind and alter it. Her technique had been brutal, wasteful, but nonetheless effective. Emilia had to develop a technique of her own. She needed to know how to create threads, how to spin needs out of nothing. She focused, looked at the softly glowing mind of the tracy that had been Tracy. Little enough was left of the original, just soft purples, blues, and greens blown far out of their original proportion. And the whole was bound in thick bands of green slavery, alien thoughts that now defined who tracy was.

Nicki was lying against her, now, head on her stomach. Emilia smiled fondly at her, then looked at her mind. There was green, yes, but her mind was still a kaleidoscope of other drives and emotions.

“Nicki,” she whispered, “look into my eyes.”

The girl looked up at her, worried, trusting. Emilia smiled at her.

“This won’t hurt a bit,” she said, and dove into her mind.

It took only an hour or so before nicki’s mind was a soft, smooth green, new thoughts glowing on top of old blues and purples.

Emilia was pleased with herself—unlike tracy, nicki still had most of her original personality, even the drives that went with it, but Emilia had shrunk them down into barely visible threads, needs that were present but insignificant next to the strong green ropes that now dominated nicki’s mind.

It had been painstaking work, and although Emilia realized it was crude, next to the mind that now dwelt in tracy it was downright artistic. Were it ever desirable that nicki become Nicki once more, it would not be hard to do so. Remove the overpowering need to obey, inflate the original desires and goals, and Nicki would be almost the same person she had started as.

There was none of that left in tracy. All that tracy could become would be a new person, with whatever motivations her programmer gave her. Tracy was gone.

In fact, Monica’s callousness—and her lack of finesse—angered Emilia. Only a poor craftswoman damaged her art so badly. Perhaps Monica hadn’t known what she was doing as she yanked out Tracy’s aspirations, but more likely she simply didn’t care. And the same would happen to Emilia, and to nicki, if Monica had her way.

Emilia could feel her waking up. Could feel her strong red mind reaching out to tracy, then probing towards the second cabin.

There was a touch, then a moment of recognition.

“Come,” Monica thought, and Emilia could almost see her sardonic smile.

She looked at nicki, who looked back at her with an eager smile.

“Come, nicki,” she said. “It’s time to go see Monica.”

“Yes, Emilia,” nicki replied, and followed at Emilia’s elbow as they left the room.

The grass of the yard was as green and lush as it had been the day before. The door to the main cabin was open, and the two entered the common room.

Monica appeared at the top of the stairway, but Emilia had seen her coming in her mind, seen the pulsing fabric that was Monica moving from the bedroom, tracy in tow. Now, as she stood at the top of the stairs, Emilia was not surprised to see her naked, much less to see Tracy naked. The rope leash in Monica’s hand, running to the neck of the woman on all fours, was only of mild novelty.

“Hello, Emilia,” Monica said.

“Hello, Monica,” Emilia replied.

“You’ve been looking into my pet’s mind,” Monica said. She smiled. “Did you like what you saw?”

“Not particularly,” Emilia said. “I’ve never been a fan of withholding sex to get what I want.”

Monica smiled coldly, and began to walk down the stairs. Eyes downcast, tracy crawled down on hands and knees. Emilia watched them come.

Monica stopped at the foot of the stairs. “Well,” she said, “that’s not something you’re going to need to worry about.”

“Really,” Emilia said, watching with her eyes (and her mind) as Monica stepped around her.

“Oh yes,” Monica said. “You can feel as well as I can that there’s only room for one dominant in our little pride.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Emilia said.

“Then why don’t you go ahead and submit,” Monica hissed. Emilia turned to face her. “Submit to me and then you won’t have to worry about withholding anything.” Monica sat down on a couch facing Emilia, and spread her legs. “Bury your face in here and give yourself to me.”

“Tempting,” Emilia observed—and it was—but instead replied “but I think I’ll pass.”

Monica’s lips pulled back to show her teeth. “Then shall we get started?”

Emilia felt Monica suddenly try to invade her mind, try to grasp hold of those threads that made her what she was, and just as suddenly pushed back, forcing Monica’s mind away as though they were wrestling.

They fought like this for an hour, pushing at each other using newly born instincts, brows knitted and lips curled. A vein pulsed on the side of Emilia’s head. Monica clenched her teeth so hard her jaw hurt. Neither of them made any headway. Both slaves looked on, tracy passively and nicki with a furrow of worry on her forehead.

Monica wanted it more. Emilia was, perhaps, stronger, but in a battle of wills desire counted for a lot. Monica was on the attack, pushing, and Emilia was resisting her but making no headway of her own.

Emilia realized her mouth was open as a thick drop of saliva fell to her chest. She hadn’t the concentration to spare to close it. Monica was pushing at her, battling to get to her mind. She had so much need, wanted to dominate her so badly. Needed it so much.

That was it.

Emilia blinked, realizing the truth. Then she slowly closed her mouth into a smile.

“You want to control me, don’t you, Monica?” Emilia hissed between her teeth. “You need it, don’t you?”

“Yesssss,” Monica hissed, glaring at her. “I must have you.”

“You need to dominate, don’t you? You want to break a million women, to force them to their knees to worship you.”

“Yesssss. And you will be the first of them.”

“But how, Monica? How? You snared Tracy by her burning need for your sex. You were stronger than her. But what do I need? What can you use as a lever into my mind?”

“I don’t know yet,” Monica said, “But I’ll find out.” The push against her mind gained in intensity, gaining almost physical force, and Emilia took an involuntary step back.

“You need to break me so much,” Emilia said, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

“Just have to find the key,” Monica breathed, eyes bulging.

“Then LOOK” Emilia shouted, and dropped her defenses. Like a river breaking from behind a dam, Monica’s mind poured over hers, pushing, demanding. Emilia could feel her very self bend as Monica’s thoughts forced their way into every corner, pulled at every desire and intention, seeking a place to sink the hook that would unravel the whole.

Emilia cried out, and dropped to her knees. Nicki started towards her, but tracy stepped forward to keep her back. The younger girl was obviously no match for tracy, who was substantially bigger than she, and nicki stopped, shifting her weight from leg to leg in an agony of helplessness.

Then it stopped. The two slaves could feel the push and swell of the mental battle dissipate in an instant. They each turned to face their own mistress. Nicki’s fears were written in her face—tracy’s was merely blank.

Emilia rose to one knee, and then her feet. Slowly, her chin came up, until she was staring at Monica, who seemed unwilling to face her.

“Look at me,” she said. Monica did so, eyes pulling the rest of her face until she was locked into a gaze with Emilia.

“What did you find, Monica?” Emilia asked.

“Nothing,” Monica said in a small voice.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” the brunette repeated.

“That’s right, Monica. You have nothing that I need. You thought I was like you, that I needed to dominate, to control, to break. But I don’t. I can, and I will, but I don’t need to. You can’t change anything because I don’t need anything.” Emilia cocked her head, her eyes burning. “But you do. Your need is like a magnesium flare, burning too bright to look at. You need it, Monica. You have to have it. You have to have those million women, on their knees because you command it.”

Emilia gave a crooked smile. “And I can give it to you.” Monica’s eyes widened. “Yes, Monica. Give in to me, and I will bring to you a million dancing girls to be broken. Innocent ones. Feisty ones. Headstrong ones. Girls who laughed at you, girls who ignored you, girls who angered you. I will give them to you, and you will break them for me. You will feed them with the whip and you will feed them with your pussy, and when you are done they will lick your boots and praise my name.”

Emilia’s eyes sparkled. “You want it, Monica. You want it more than anything. Don’t you?”

Monica cast her eyes aside.

“Don’t you, Monica?” Emilia’s voice was commanding, was iron.

Monica’s lips moved.

“Don’t you, Monica?”

“I do,” came the barest of whispers.

“You do, what?” Emilia asked.

There was a long pause.

“I do, Mistress,” monica replied, and looked into Emilia’s eyes.

It took over an hour to sort through monica’s mind and put it in order. The eyed-eyed former dominant was docile throughout, staring obediently into Emilia’s eyes as Emilia moved around in her mind. It was very like a tangle of rope, Emilia reflected, only the rope was alive, was thoughts and impulses all loosely knotted up to make a ‘monica’.

First, of course, she cemented her victory over the would-be dominant by finding and crushing all thoughts of resistance. Any backbone monica might have had, all those pulsing red threads in her consciousness, were isolated and squeezed into nothingness. The first few times, monica winced as she felt her own wants and goals being eradicated, but after only a few minutes she simply sat quietly as all the resistance in her personality was killed.

After Emilia had massaged monica’s mind into docile green servitude, it was time to streamline it into loving and worshipping her. Unlike the more ‘natural’ submissive attitude that nicki had, monica had to be completely programmed into obedience. There had been almost no green there at all.

Happily, Emilia had models for this purpose. Sitting quietly by were tracy and nicki. Emilia would occasionally stop and peer into nicki’s mind, observing how thoughts of obedience were woven together, and then reach softly into monica’s mind and weave in strong new threads, the stronger for having a natural model.

It was difficult work, and several times Emilia made a mis-step, adding a confusing dash of color to monica’s smooth green mind, and had to pull the new thread and re-consider. But it was exhilarating. Staring into those docile, glazed over eyes and at the same time staring at the now-servile mind behind them. Re-shaping this woman—any woman—to her will. Taking nicki and making her her own had been sweet, but how much sweeter it was to bend once-resisting monica into her own eager plaything. It was a rush like no other.

The sun was almost down when Emilia blinked once, slowly, then sat back. Her new pet made no motion, merely kept staring obediently at her, and Emilia smiled.

“You are truly mine now, aren’t you, monica?”

“Yes, Emilia. I exist only to obey you.” The mouth formed the words, but the eyes were blank and glazed. Whatever life was in monica’s mind was merely the placeholder at the end of Emilia’s leash.

Emilia sighed in satisfaction, and leaned back. The robe she had worn for her confrontation fell open, and suddenly Emilia was surprised to find how aroused she was. Unashamedly she slid a finger gently into herself, almost without resistance. Horny all over again.

She smiled. And how wonderfully easy that was to deal with, now. “Monica, my slave, I am horny. Eat my pussy.”

Without hesitation, Monica bent forward, placed her palms on the sofa just under Emilia’s spread thighs, and began to run her tongue softly along Emilia’s tingling folds. Emilia smiled and moaned. She watched the top of monica’s head bob quietly between her legs for a moment, enjoying the sight almost as much as she enjoyed the shivering pleasure her slave’s tongue was giving her.

“Very nice, monica. Now, use your tongue, and go inside. I want to feel some thrusting.” Monica dropped further, pushing herself into the sofa, and began sliding her tongue up into Emilia’s already wet tunnel. “Oh, that’s good, slave. Flick the tip around a bit.”

Emilia’s face clenched in enjoyment, and her hips began to twitch into monica’s face. Shuddering softly, Emilia looked at her other two slaves, and smiled through eyes glassy with pleasure.

“My dearest nicki, first of my slaves, please bring your delicious pussy over here that I may taste it,” she said. Obeying instantly, nicki stood at the sofa next to Emilia, presenting her crotch to Emilia’s face, and turning her legs out. Reaching with one arm to grip nicki’s firm buttocks, she pulled nicki’s pussy to her open mouth, latching on with her lips and sucking gently as she explored with her tongue. The taste was so right, perfectly right.

Emilia moaned deeply into nicki’s pussy as she came, bucking her hips into monica’s face as the brainsmoothed drone continued to spiral her tongue around inside Emilia’s soaking slit. Mouth covered, Emilia reached out with her mind and pushed monica gently away as she shuddered down the other side of her orgasm. With a wet noise, her lips released nicki’s slit, and Emilia leaned back into the sofa.

“Oh,” she said, when she could speak, “that was good. Thank you, sweet slaves.” She looked at tracy, still kneeling at the far end of the sofa. Her libido perked up again. All this time, and she still hadn’t fucked tracy.

She licked her lips, the taste of other woman’s sex on them. “My dear tracy. You are probably still full of that other, naughty monica’s programming, aren’t you. Come here, my dear. Look into my eyes and I will show you your new truth.”

Her breasts swaying as she crawled forward, tracy obediently locked eyes with Emilia. Emilia’s mind slid into tracy’s smooth green brain, and she quickly began finding the threads that whispered ‘Monica’ and removing them. This one would be hers alone. She tingled with the desire to fuck tracy, but the pleasure of rewriting her thoughts, of shaping her into the drone that she should be, was enough to compensate for delaying her lusts. Emilia found one of her hands idly groping tracy’s swaying breasts anyway, as tracy stared placidly into her eyes while her mind was stripped down for a second time.

Emilia smiled. Life was so sweet.

Much, much later, it was full dark, and Emilia allowed her sucking mouth to fall free of tracy’s pussy. She was on the floor, staring up at the ceiling over tracy’s smooth ass. Between her legs tracy’s tongue still busily alternated between long pushes along her soaking slit and deep thrusts inside her cunt. Emilia mentally told tracy to stop, and to get off her. Tired as she was, Emilia’s body nonetheless twinged, scolding her, as they broke the sixty-nine.

Nicki and monica were engaged in a sixty-nine of their own, a few feet away, and Emilia curtly ordered them to stop and stand up. They had had their orgasms, which was more than a slave needed. Slaves needed only to obey—that was pleasure enough. Emilia knew this to be true because she had woven it into their very beings.

What she didn’t know was what she’d do when this vacation week was over. The males could still perform their jobs, but the changes in them would be obvious to any ‘normal’ person they interacted with.

Emilia sighed, and sat up. Perhaps she could install some motivation in them that would suffice to disguise their new selves. She scanned. Strange. There were only two males in the cabins. Carefully, she cast her mind about again. Males were easy to overlook, but after a moment she was sure one of the males as missing.

It was the one affiliated with tracy. Emilia thought a moment. Chris, that was it. The male called Chris was missing.

Well, finding it would be something to do. “Slaves,” she said, “dress yourselves. One of the males has fled into the woods, and we shall find it.”

“Yes, Mistress,” the three slaves replied in concert. They all ran off to their respective quarters.

Emilia smiled. “Mistress” was an affectation Monica had come up with, but it felt good. It fit. It was like “Master”, only flavored with high heels and long black gloves. Her own nicki had been only too happy to adopt it.

Now, to work. Where would the male have gone? Probably to get help, which implied that nearby town. Emilia knew she could not reach the town with her mind, although she could dimly sense the other minds that were there. But she would probably not have to. With its diminished motivation, the male could easily have been stopped by any insignificant obstacle in its path. She cast about with her thoughts.

Ah, yes. There it was, at the stream not far below the cabins. She examined its mind—it wasn’t fully gray, as she would expect. There were small yellow and red threads running around in it, and one strong purple rope of orange. Interesting. This Chris male had somehow resisted the correctness that overtook the other males.

However, its limited motivation was apparently not enough to propel it across the stream, and it was not long at all before Emilia and her cohort—now dressed—were walking down the slope towards it.

She saw a small flicker of fear in its mind as it saw her.

“Little male, little male,” Emilia said, picking her way around the boulders and fallen logs, “whatever are you doing down here?”

“Let me go, Emilia,” it said. “Please. Let me go.”

“I haven’t stopped you, little male,” she replied, sauntering the last few feet up to where it crouched by the stream. “But you seem to lack the will to wade across this brook.”

“Let me go,” it begged. Looking inside, its mind reminded her of a primitive at night, huddled desperately around its one source of light and heat.

“But how did you cling to that, little male?” She peered into its memory, and then smiled.

“Of course, " Emilia said, “It was the water. You were drinking bottled water. The transformation that overtook us all must have come through the water.”

“Please,” it begged, “let me go.”

“Shh,” she said. It was cruel to let it suffer like this, and she reached out a hand to stroke its head. With barely any effort at all, she reached in and snuffed out its fear.

The male’s face went slack. Deprived of their supporting focus, the rest of the mind’s colors faded quickly, and the male’s mind was soon a uniform gray.

“As it should be,” Emilia noted. “Very well—monica, lead this male back to camp.”

“Yes, Mistress,” monica replied, and moved forwards towards the now uncaring Chris.

Emilia waved her hand, and the two males shoved the lid of the cistern aside. Dismissing them with another wave, she stepped forward and peered into the dark water.

“Hand me a ladle, nicki,” she said, reaching backwards without looking.

“Yes, Mistress,” came the reply, and a metal handle was placed into her hand. She dipped it into the water, breaking the smooth surface into ripples, and lifted the full ladle to her face.

The water looked like water. But... there was a faint scent, that well water probably shouldn’t have had. A scent of malt, not beery but rather the scent that differentiated a chocolate shake from a chocolate malt.

Inhaling deeply, Emilia realized that the scent was familiar. She’d been smelling it a lot recently, without realizing it. It was a soft note that accompanied the scent of pussy. No, not of pussy—of nicki’s pussy, and tracy’s, and monica’s, and her own. She chuckled. Of course—she’d never eaten pussy before, so she hadn’t realized that this other scent was new. But of course it was.

“Heh. I’ll have a slit-juice malt, please” she chuckled to herself.

“What, Mistress?”

“Nothing, nicki.” Emilia looked at the water. Well, blessings on whoever’s pussy had been here, and opened her eyes to this new life. She stepped back and motioned the males to close the cover.

“Was it the water, Mistress?” monica asked as Emilia emerged, blinking, into the sunshine.

“It certainly was,” Emilia replied. “Is,” she corrected herself. With a smile, she lifted the ladle to her mouth and drank it all down.

“Put the males in the van,” Emilia said, gesturing at nicki with her free hand.

The short-haired girl bowed, then went into the main cabin to bring out the males. Emilia watched them pass, mentally looking inside. Whereas the women’s minds were green, pulsing with purpose and energy, the males’ minds were pure gray, uninteresting. Still intelligent, admittedly, but lacking any motive whatsoever. They would do whatever any woman, Mistress or slave, told them to do. They knew neither happiness nor any other emotion, not even physical comfort.

As compared to tracy, who was almost purring as Emilia petted her. Mind-stripped she may have been, but physical pleasure was something she still loved. Even more when it was at the hand of her Mistress.

However, days of almost non-stop sex had finally worn through even the increased stamina of their new bodies, and Emilia was simply enjoying the feel of tracy’s body as the slave stood there next to the lawn chair. Yet another of the many advantages of being whatever she was now, Emilia thought, was the ability to fondle a nice body whenever she felt like, however she felt like, for as long as she felt like. Her right hand slid slowly over tracy’s breasts again.

Little pleasures notwithstanding, Emilia was troubled. Although her slaves would have little trouble pretending that nothing had changed, she had been unable to install any motivation in the males that lasted beyond a few hours. She’d drop in a strong blue or green, or even a red, and sure enough the male would act on it for a while, but unstoppably it would shrink and dim until it vanished. What she was going to do about that, she didn’t quite know.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted. Someone was coming—not the gray of a male, or the confused multi-color of one of the uncorrected humans (for she could sense them, distantly, even from miles away), but a bright red weave that denoted another Mistress. And she was close, very close—somehow she had approached almost to the cabins before Emilia could sense her.

Or those with her—suddenly a half-dozen greens were coming up the road as well. A thought of flight disappeared even as it materialized. Mistresses did not flee. She would be taken, or be victorious, but she would never flee.

Mentally, she called her slaves to her, and walked out into the clearing. As nicki, tracy, and monica reached her side, a long white car pulled out of the woods. Emilia stood, waiting, flanked by her slaves. Insects buzzed.

The limousine pulled up to them, and halted. Emilia could see the driver, but she was a green, and not worth considering. Emilia knew where the important woman was.

The side door opened, and a high-heeled boot emerged, stepping down onto the dirt next to the road. Emilia watched, impassive eyes hiding the fear she felt. The owner of the boots emerged, stepping clear of the car door. She was tall with short blonde hair, and impressively nude apart from the boots and a pair of dark sunglasses. Her mind was bright red. Emilia realized at once that this stranger was much stronger than her. With a sinking feeling, Emilia waited for contact.

The woman looked at her, sizing up this smaller woman standing defiantly with her three slaves. Then she chuckled.

“And here I had been so sure it would be Monica.”

Emilia’s forehead wrinkled in confusion.

The woman laughed, then, and began to walk forward. “You may call me Yvonne. You are Emilia. My sisters and I had a small wager on which of you would emerge triumphant. I can already picture Yulia’s little smile as she takes my ten thousand dollars.”

Reaching Emilia, the blonde woman stopped. “May I look inside?” she asked. Mouth dry, Emilia nodded. It had become quite clear that she was at Yvonne’s mercy.

Emilia blinked. Only having had Monica in her mind, she had been expecting a probe, a rough penetration. But the presence in her head was light, airy, like a soft whisper moving around in the threads that were her. It caressed her mind.

“Oh my,” Yvonne said. “Oh my. No wonder you beat Monica. You are a rare bird, little Emilia. Rare, and valuable. We have use for you.”

“Use?” Emilia managed.

“Come,” Yvonne said, taking her by the hand. “Bring a pet, and have the others follow in your vehicle. There is a great deal I must explain.”

Emilia sent out a thought, and nicki obediently followed behind her as Yvonne led her to the limousine. Monica and tracy returned to the van, closed the door on the males seated in the back, and got in front.

The door to the limo was still open, and Emilia could see female forms seated within. She looked at Yvonne, who nodded, and Emilia crouched to clamber inside. The cool air caressed her face, and with it came a strong and familiar scent. The scent of malt. And flesh.

Emilia smiled, and crawled in.