The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

PSS Blue Static

Commander S’stev arranged his lower coils into a comfortable position and inserted the first memory download. Legally he shouldn’t have had access to the evidence as his youngest son had gotten his tail mixed up in events. Fortunately The Captain had delegated the incident to him to handle whilst he dealt with whatever Jort nest the Ship’s Boy had stirred up.

The room faded into nothingness as the recorded memory took hold.

Hot Boys Fuck Pit (No droids allowed)

He danced, he was a good dancer, dancing made him good, being good was rewarded.

Clutching his tunic in his hands he ripped it apart revealing his oil soaked pectorals glistening for the customer’s benefit.

His skin was covered in an almost invisible gridwork of payment sensors. It was his duty to encouraged the customers to touch, they paid by the second and by the area they grasped. Running a finger along his toned muscles would drain the price of a drink from the customer, touching more intimately sucked credit at a much higher rate.

The customer in front of him was visually attractive, unfortunately his touch felt cold from lack of credits. With a dramatic flourish he danced away from the eager youth in such away that the credit drained customer didn’t even realize he’d been shunned. Swirling around he put his naked thighs within the grasp of a bloated slob who’s clothing style was that he associated with the warm touch of wealthy fingers..

He felt no revulsion, this customer’s hands were delightfully hot, indicating plenty of credit for him to absorb into master’s accounts.

Life was good, he was happy. Every day customers fed him with jets of white creamy food and his master gave him a small tablet that contained the stuff that white creamy food didn’t.

Occasionally he would dream about strange places, or being half sized so that normal people had to be looked up at. He never bothered telling master about his dreams; He’d always been as tall as everyone else and the strange places didn’t match the fifteen rooms of the real world...the thought of a place where there were no walls at all was scary, unnatural.

Gliding himself down the corpulent client he eased the man’s tiny member free. By touch alone he could tell that the customer’s three incher would never part his muscular cheeks far enough to reach his anus. Changing plan he sank lower to milk the customer instead. Other customers, ones who had arrived in the world at the same time as his customer, cheered the fat one on.

He rubbed himself upward again so as to get maximum credit from the customer, just as he started to lower himself back down again he saw someone that froze him in mid-movement. The person was stood at the ‘Door’, a place that no dancer was allowed to approach.

The door, sometimes called the Front-door, was the strange portal through which customers entered and departed the world. In his brief moments of non-work he wondered about the nature of the door, did it create and delete customers? Had the door been used to create him and his fellow dancers? Or was it, as one of the other dancers thought, a portal to other worlds.

He’d imagined what it would be like exploring other worlds, strange places where the dance floor was to the left of the bar instead of the right or the seats might have green covers instead if blue.

The person at the door was proof of the theory; the door must lead to a parallel world, a world where he existed as a customer instead of a dancer! It was the only explanation.

He barged past his customer and then past several others, a crime his master would undoubtedly punish him for later, perhaps even allow customers to apply the whips. Only the line that separated the rest of the world from the door stopped him. No dancer could cross that line.

He opened his mouth to say something, but there was nothing he could think of right then. This was so far beyond anything he understood, master and customers gave orders, dancers obeyed. Dancers didn’t ask things or speak unless spoken to.

The questions boiled silently within, Who are you? Why do you look exactly like me? What’s beyond the door? Do you like cream food? Why aren’t you a dancer?

“What do they call you?” asked the person with his face.

“Dancer” he replied, taking time to appreciate the other’s clothing and physique, white Ship boots, deep blue skintight shorts and a single red stripe of body paint running from nipple to shoulder. It was the pattern often worn by customers from a world called Fleet.

Fleeters were welcome in the world, they spent much credit on master’s drinks and always allowed the dancers to drain many credits.

“I’m Kai” replied the Fleeter

Kai didn’t wait for him to dance simply wrapping him in his arms. It was like being encased in ice, the customer had no credit at all. Having no credit meant Kai was getting a free grope and that was something master didn’t allow.

Dancer winced as Kai received a jolt of electrical pain from his credit grid.

“No credit, no touch, sorry.”

Behind him Dancer could feel the heavy tread of Bouncer’s approach. Bouncer was Master’s enforcer, it was her job to protect the dancers and remove non-paying customers from the world.

“What’s going on here?” growled the massive Klingon, taking note of the energy still shorting across his grid.

“N..Nothing Bouncer” he lied, desperate that his Fleeter double not be expelled. His head burned like a hot wire, he felt shame, his behavior was bordering on malfunction.

“So... A non-payer. Come back when you’ve been paid Fleet fag”

Before he could object further, Bouncer had picked up the semi-stunned Kai and hauled him across the line between the world and the door.

“Don’t worry Dancer, I’ll come back for you” said Kai

A second later the strange customer was gone from the world and from his thoughts. Customers who left the world were no longer a source of credits and therefore not worthy of further attention.

He blinked wondering what he was doing all over here away from the stage.

“Back to work dancer” Bouncer ordered

Hastily he returned to his pole giving a customer an oil sprayer so that his muscles would get rebuffed and earn master his credits. Bouncer watched him intently, he no longer recalled why she should do so, her mouth moved, talking to the headset comm. For some reason it made him nervous.

PSS Blue Static

Commander S’stev switched viewpoint, intent on following Midshipman 534 Kai. He smiled slightly, the brief experience of the dancer’s viewpoint had already exposed sufficient criminality to condemn the Fuck Pit’s master.

Outside Hot Boys Fuck Pit (No droids allowed)

Emotional turmoil, the dancer was his brother, copied from the same murdered boy, deserving the same chance at recovering his past.

He hit the floor skidding across its polished white surface, much to the amusement of the revelers who drank, caressed, cruised and staggered in the wide dimly lit concourse.

His first thought was to get back up and charge straight back through the door. A single glance at the Hutt-wan thug next to the door nonchalantly cleaning his fingernails with a light-dagger was enough to make him reconsider.

No. This required thought, a proper plan and credit. Silently he cursed his heritage. If only he were a normal crewman and not a sex-obsessed clone. If only he had the mental resistance of a small yogurt, then he wouldn’t have purchased every damn souvenir the hypno-adverts displayed and bankrupted himself.

Think. What would Silver do? Play to his strengths not his weakness, that was for sure. What strengths?

Strengths: He was a clone, everyone ‘knew’ clones were simple souls and would therefore underestimate him. Having a cpu bonded to his brain was also a two edged thing, sure he was weak willed but he also had fast access to data systems ..So, how to make use of those strengths?

He’d need money to get past the door and more money to spend time alone with Dancer. Buying Dancer’s freedom outright was unlikely, he would be way too expensive. Also the Fuck Pit’s owner certainly knew Dancer was an illegal and would smell Big-ol’boyshit if Dancer’s physical duplicate tried to buy him.

Money and a change of face. Where to get them fast? What assets did he have?

He could try selling himself for sexual services, a pleasurable option that his instincts said was right. Unfortunately, looking around at the pleasures being taken, nobody much would be paying for what they could get for free, and there were many Fuck Pits catering for more ‘refined’ tastes and kinks.

That left the other Midshipmen as possible credit sources. Silver and Garion would doubtless help in an instant, but were occupied de-slaving that singer. That left Hamiltim and Sil; he didn’t know them nearly as well, but they had been eager enough to share his butt-hole, so he liked to think they’d help.

Getting up he retraced his steps, no guide was needed this time, today’s route was safely stored in his chip. A few minutes later he stood in front of building that seemed completely out of place on Tattooine. It was organic, its front covered in carvings etched into living wood. Stylized statues, half snake half human beckoned.

A Naga slid forward and bowed its head to him. It looked mid teenage, a sure sign that it had been a snake given arms and intellect rather than a human who had sacrificed his legs.

“How may the Clan House serve? Do you wish to observe the sacred dances? Or perhaps cast aside your legs and become one of us?”

“I’m looking for a Naga named Sil. I need his aid to rescue my brother from involuntary service”

The young acolyte looked serious. “I regret that young Sil may not be disturbed. However, I sense that your need is worthy, I shall take you to the elders.”

“Thanks!”

He was led to through to the upper level of a small stadium, solemn Naga gazed down at a Naga who sat on the sandy floor his arms spread wide, head bowed as if hypnotized.

It was Sil! he changed direction, intent on calling out to him. The Naga acolyte grabbed his arm with a startling degree of strength.

“The Witnessing has started. You may not speak with him until it is finished.”

A second later he had been guided to two ‘Elders’, although they looked to Kai as if they were in peak physical condition and hardly a week older than he was. They looked at him silently for a few minutes and then nodded, indicating with a gentle gesture that he could observe the witnessing.

There was no communication, he had told them nothing of his quest nor Sil’s part in his plan, and yet he was certain that the elders understood and were aiding him in their own way. He sat in the cushioned area careful not to sit on anyone’s pythonesque tail. As usual the presence of a hundred naked male torsoes made him erectly happy.

Below, something glowing had begun to form above Sil’s head.

PSS Blue Static

S’stev hesitated, forming a wall between his long-term memory and Midshipman Kai’s Witnessing. It would not be right to permanently remember these particular experiences.

Naga Clan House

The sphere of stuff expanded and Kai found himself wrapped in someone else’s memories, Sil’s memories

The alarm blared, the high-pitched scream, of a hull breach, tiny drops of star plasma had eaten through Blue Static’s hull like a knife through butter. Quickly he grabbed his ablative thermal armor, checking first that it was his, the familiar Marco Silverson nameplate, the ‘n’ slightly scratched; he’d have to get that mended by next inspection.

His normal skinsuit would protect against vacuum, but the thermal plating was a vital addition if he intended to walk ‘above deck’ whilst the ship rode the flares in a star’s outer atmosphere.

“Clear” he said acknowledging his readiness, his words echoed by others as they finished suiting up.

Jesse Roantodd nodded and activated the airlock hatch. Within seconds the chamber was open to space and they were almost blinded by the coiling rope of plasma that thrashed around like some ancient sea creature as the charged particles flowed along the star’s magnetic field.

Blue Static’s portside sail was a mess, molten metal glowing at the edges of several holes.

He never saw it, had no warning, just a sudden blinding agony followed by numbness as his suit cut off the pain. A fragment of molecule thick solar sail had scythed through him before continuing on to dissect Roantodd’s head. Feeling oddly detached he watched his hips and legs drift away.

There had been lots of voices then for a while and changes of background as he was taken somewhere else. The Ship’s Cook running a med-scan, an argument between the Dr Hidalgo and Commander S’stev followed by a hypnotic phrase that brought his mind back to a calm focused state.

“You have been injured Marco. Do you understand that?” asked S’stev

He nodded certain of the outcome. “Fatally”

“To normal medicine yes. But because of where the wound is there’s a chance I can save at least part of you. This will be highly disapproved by many, but at least you would live... if you chose to be my son”

Marco Silverson didn’t hesitate, he knew he wouldn’t be himself afterwards but there would be something of him going onward.

“Do it” he replied

S’stev rose up above the medical gurney seeming to hover above him, his human torso held aloft by snakey coils that were largely out of sight.

S’stev danced the special dance. It was like the erotic dance used in snakedance competitions but much more intimately focused. Marco felt himself slipping into a degree of passivity beyond even that the meds could induce.

S’stev could do anything to him and he would just lie there and accept it, passive and willing. He would be the same even had he been fully fit.

Pink warmth surrounded him for some undefined length of time.

Awareness; the cold air against his naked coils. He looked up, instantly recognizing his parent and feeling the instinctive total loyalty that ensured no changeling human ever caused trouble for his people.

Weakly he hugged his father, both of them were feeling drained. He was pretty sure S’stev had given much more of his substance to make up for the lack of a complete human.

“You...shouldn’t have risked yourself...I was only a human” he told his father.

“I considered the human worthy. Given time I would have slowly seduced until he begged to be you.”

He grinned, accepting the truth of his father’s words. Marco Silverson’s humanity had always been marked for amendment and that was good to know.

“You must decide how you will be called.” instructed his father “..and write a message to Marco Silverson’s clan.”

“I will call myself Sil.” he replied, feeling annoyance that he must write to humans but at the same time eager to obey father.

Kai blinked, shaking his head, the sphere of memory was fading from above Sil’s head.

“Sil S’stevson has been witnessed. How do you judge?” demanded one of the elders

“S’stev Sarsson acted with undue haste” said one

“That Sil would exist had already been decided, fate accelerated the inevitable” argued a second.

“A life was saved, but it has yet to be seen if that life was worth the effort” said the elder next to Kai.

He was instantly alarmed. Had he stumbled from his own problem into a threat to Sil’s life? The elder’s words had also attracted the attention of the other Naga who had grown silent awaiting the next words.

“This human was murdered; his various parts scattered to the winds.” said the elder placing a hand on Kai’s shoulder “He has come to us today because Sil S’stevson is one of only two entities he trusted to ask for aid.”

A murmur went around the room; this was news.

“Let Sil S’stevson return the balance to life by aiding him in his quest” continued the elder.

The assembled Naga nodded. Kai felt hope return, the Naga were going to help him recover Dancer after all.

Fifteen minutes later they were back outside the Fuck Pit. He had credit now and thanks to Sil’s reminder a sort-of disguise. One of the daft souvenirs he’d been hypnotized into buying was a ‘lifelike Klingon forehead’. No modern Klingon would be caught dead wearing a forehead, but it was traditional and a real favorite with the tourists. It would make him look different from Dancer and also mark him as a tourist...prey, not threat.

PSS Blue Static

S’stev blinked surprised and annoyed that the local Clan had seen fit to place obligation upon his son. The annoyance faded as the events failed to find purchase in his long term memory.

Picking up the original chip he returned his attention to the dancer.

Hot Boys Fuck Pit (No droids allowed)

He was standing backstage; one of the other dancers was applying instant-heal to the red agonizer burns. Master had said he was bad. The thought that he was bad hurt far more than the physical sting of punishment.

He didn’t remember why he had been bad, the other dancers said he’d just pushed his way across the room and hugged a credit-drained customer for no reason. If that was true it was definitely bad and he would have to work extra hard at being Good.

With the insta-heal finished the other dancer squirted on a coating of oil so that the repair matched the rest of his erotically attractive flesh.

“You’re done” advised the other

“Thanks”

“Get any good ones today?”

“Yeah, a hot looking one who had plenty of credit, that beauty lasted nearly all morning”

He felt envious. Peeking through the curtain he scanned the customers his eyes targeting on two tourists who seemed to almost glow with credit-warmth. He gave the other dancer’s cock a squeeze and pointed at the Naga and the human in his silly souvenir forehead.

“I’ll take the Naga” said the other dancer

He had no objection, truthfully there was something about the tourist’s boyish features that attracted him even more than the slightly higher credit warmth from the Naga.

Their turn on stage came, the previous dancers going back stage to have the bodily fluids washed away and new oils applied.

He did one circuit of the room before homing in on his target. The closer he got to the tourist, the stranger he felt, alarming twinges indicating that this was to do with badness coursed through him. He disregarded the sensation, something about this one was irresistible.

“Private room” said the tourist in a voice that sounded strangely familiar.

Excellent! He thought private rooms drained customers even faster than a public fucking. Taking the customer by the hand he guided him to the rear of the world and into one of the sound proofed cubicles.

Carefully the tourist removed his ‘realistic Klingon forehead’ and he found himself looking at a face that shocked him to the very core of his programming. The tourist was..him.

Like so many things, this was a one of those experiences that fell beyond anything in his world.

He took a step back, unsure.

“Easy, easy” said the customer in his voice. “I know it’s confusing”

He was confused all right, he should be slowly undressing the customer, instead his mind was bubbling with questions he wanted to ask. Forcing himself to act properly his fingers moved to touch the robe covered chest.

“Its ok, you can ask me things while you touch me” said the customer

Asking things of a customer was hard, but permission at least made it possible. “Why, do you look like a dancer?”

The customer kissed him passionately “Because we were the same person once. Bad men killed him and made copies. I am one copy, you are another.”

“But...I’ve always been here.” he protested pulling his customer’s robe off and leaving it neatly folded next to the forehead.

“I think I can help with that. How long do we have before I’m drained of credit?”

“Roughly 30 universal minutes, you’re very rich” he replied turning his concentration to the fine body that duplicated every curve and bulge of his own.

“Oil me, I want to be as slick as you are Dancer. Warn me when we have ten minutes remaining” instructed his strange customer.

That was an easy instruction, well within his experiences far less disturbing. There is safety in what you know, so he went eagerly to the task. The customer’s erection responded quickly to his frictionless touch.

They had sex for a while taking it in turns to be penetrated. The customer didn’t request ‘protection’ which always made things more intimate.

He sensed the cooling of the credit rating as he teased at the customer’s nipple with his teeth. “You have ten minutes”

“Its time you remembered” said the customer taking a pair of bluetooth connectors from the discarded robe’s pocket handing one to him.

He knew what to do, master used similar things to connect him to the Fuck Pit’s accounting program. But this was different, instead of simple numbers flowing outward a chaos of data was flowing into him.

Images, like his dreams, another world where the bar was made of some organic brown stuff rather than the polished chrome that the real bar had. A customer’s drink handed to him as if he himself were the customer.

He blinked; time had passed, a great deal of time. This wasn’t the bar, nor was this the guy that had given him the drink. He felt as if he’d been dancing for years, but tomorrow was a college day and it was well past time he headed home.

“Who are you?” demanded the other.

He looked in shock at the boy, seeing him as if for the first time. Some trick of the light or the drink made him look exactly like him. He felt a surge of sexual attraction, stronger than any girl had caused. That half remembered drink must have have been laced with some real strong homo-disiac.

“My name’s Kai. Who are you?”

“You know who I am. Face the truth”

The little fantasy he’d tried to make up fell apart. Even he couldn’t compress the months he’d spent dancing for master with trying to go home without having been missed.

“We’re both Kai” he concluded letting his fingers wander across the other him. “I’ve been cloned and you’re here to take me away”

The other him grinned lopsidedly “I knew you’d figure it out. I don’t know if the original Kai was this fast or whether its being chipped up that makes us smart. Oh yeah, get used to the sexual attraction thing, its hardwired into us...we are clones after all”

“What next? Your credit rating’s only good for a couple more minutes.” he asked

“Simple, you put on the Klingon forehead and the robes and walk out. Me and Sil will wait a bit and follow you out.” instructed the other him resting a hand on his ass cheek. “Damn its hard to keep my hands off you. Look, if things go wrong, find a Midshipman called Hamiltim.”

He nodded and reluctantly disengaged from the delightful duplicate, quickly putting on customer clothes and forehead.

He hesitated

“Go.” insisted his customer.

The habit of obedience was still strong, months of obeying without question made it a hard habit to break. He turned toward the front door and walked toward the edge of the world, getting more and more nervous as he went.

It was all very well remembering fragments of another world, but they still weren’t really real to him. He could feel his chip’s programming begin to nibble at his new memory. Master didn’t like dancers to get attached to favorite clients, now that the customer was no longer present the chip was making space in his mind for a new customer to love.

He had to get out before it was too late. Taking all his courage he rushed through the door and out of the world.

Alien, it was utterly unlike anything he could have imagined. The shock of it sent his memory skittering away, he was Kai, he remembered what the customer had said, but all memory of places other than the world of the Fuck Pit were gone.

This place was like nothing he could have extrapolated. Based upon his experience of the world he had deduced that other worlds might exist, unfortunately the limits of a dancer’s world had led him to assume that all worlds included a bar and several small rooms, varying in color or texture..but not this.

This world seemed infinite, no walls to constrain its east-west axis, no roof and a floor only in places. Customers; it was absolutely full of customers, more customers than he’d ever seen.

He had to fight back the urge to walk up to a customer and dance for him.

Another part of him was whimpering in fear, it was too different. What would happen when he needed to piss? This world had no bathroom, not for either sex and no one to ask permission from when he needed to go. Presumably those critical facilities were built into the far away east or west walls, a journey that might take days.

He glanced backward; from this side the Front door seemed brighter and more attractive, designed to pull in new customers no doubt.

Next to the portal stood other-bouncer, he paying very close attention. Other-bouncer worked for master but rarely entered the world. All the dancers knew he was a non-customer and not to be approached.

He stepped backward, ‘get further away’ the Kai part of him screamed silently.

The look of suspicion had become a frown and Other-bouncer took a step forward.

For a brief moment he was fully Kai, feeling the rage. He’d been murdered and turned into a sex obsessed oil-dancer...ok that wasn’t so bad, but they’d still murdered him first. His bare foot performed a perfect ‘flying crane’ dance kick that just happened to connect with Other-bouncer’s codpiece.

Other-bouncer sagged to his knees. The Kai-ness faded and he looked down, horrified at what he had done. He almost stepped forward to offer Other-bouncer assistance. A part of him wanted to go back into the Fuck Pit and forget this horribly large long world, kneel at master’s feet and beg to have his memory wiped.

He gritted his teeth, he’d come this far, he had to continue, Other-Kai had taken his place, and he owed him. He ran, careful to tread only on solid floor even though the customers had no trouble walking where his senses said the falling would take a long time.

Behind him he could hear the curses of Other-bouncer’s limping pursuit.

PSS Blue Static

Cdr S’stev felt sympathy for the clone; a Klingon commerce tower was no place to be. The Hutt-wan mafia covertly controlled many aspects, their role here deeply imbedded in this world’s society. The only good thing about that status quo was that the tradition bound hutt-wan preferred extra food and the expending of minimal effort.

He switched his attention back to Midshipman Kai’s memory.

Hot Boys Fuck Pit (No droids allowed)

He danced. He immediately discovered he was crap at it, almost as bad as Sil in fact.

About 3 seconds later he knew he was in trouble, the Fuck Pit’s bouncer and a sweaty, corpulent looking individual headed toward him.

The bouncer aimed a control wand and suddenly his locked in a rigid attention pose. He’d been a fool; he’d forgotten the key fact that made rescuing the clone do-able. They were identical, he had exactly the same chip in his brain that his brother the dancer did.

His own programming might have been over-ridden by Fleet protocols but that still left plenty of room on the chip for new programs.

“Follow me”

“Yes Master” it felt good to say those words again.

The part of him that was a two-year-old cotton picker called No. 534 was doing a little dance in his head. He had a master again, everything would be alright.

“He’s got no credit sensors boss. This ain’t the same one”

“I can see that. Same batch though. Who sent you boy?”

“No one Master”

“So, you escaped from those red-neck Tribecans and came here to rescue your brother, that it?”

“Yes Master”

“Well, we can’t have you disunited, can we. You are now a dancer, you work for me, Nothing else matters. Every cock you suck today will drain more and more memory until all that’s left is a happy dancer who has always worked for his master.”

“Yes Master” acknowledged the new Dancer Kai licking his lips, the Fuck Pit was full of cocks to choose from.

“Simple.” said Master to the bouncer “Now go find me the one that’s wandered off. I see profit here if we can get them calibrated to act as a pair.”

Master dragged Kai out onto the stage.

“Ladies! Gentlemen! Hermaphrodites and others! Today, happy hour starts early. My Clone dancer here went on strike earlier today saying he didn’t get enough cock, in the interests of good worker relations I have acceded to his demands. So...there you have it, this top grade cocksucker will choose his own partners ..and WILL COST THE CUSTOMER NOTHING!”

Kai felt a certain grudging admiration for his beloved master. Without credit implants he wasn’t capable of earning money, as a free ride he was good for business and would be drained of un-needed memories even quicker.

So many to choose from, which bone first? There! A finely muscled torso visible from pectorals upward above the crowd, it was Sil balanced on tail-tip.

Only one problem, the humanoid part of a Naga stopped an inch short of where a cock would be. No cock meant no suckee, the best he could do was aim for a nice long dark brown member nearby and obey master’s command on that one instead.

Reaching his chosen customer he slid his oil soaked body down the customer until he was crouched in front of the organ that would begin the sucking away of his useless memories.

“They’ve reprogrammed you haven’t they?” asked Sil, who had lowered himself so that only his torso and first foot of serpentine body was vertical, effectively at eye level with his cocksucking friend.

“Mmm-humm” he replied, his mouth full of man-meat

“Excellent.”

“Huhmm?!”

“Midshipman Sil, calling all Shipmates, Crewman in danger, Halls of Light, level 86, west concourse” said Sil into his comm.

He had to protect master! Detaching himself from his well-built customer he lunged at his friend sending the Naga into a group of Orthodox Klingons who had just ordered flagons of blood-wine.

PSS Blue Static

S’stev’s smile returned and got bigger, that memory alone would absolve Fleet of starting the riot. It had been the Fuck Pit’s Master who had programmed his slaves to defend him.

Of course luck had had a lot to do with it. Orthodox Klingons were that rare minority on modern Tattooine, a group that believed religiously in the Way of the Warrior. Accidentally bumping into an Orthodox Klingon was like pulling the pin on a marine’s riot inducer.

Naturally the Fuck Pit had had a violence suppression system installed, as was required by the lease; typically it had been a D.I.Y. lash-up that had contributed certain aspects of what had followed.

He wondered whether it had been a deliberate act by the Orthodox Klingon to smash Sil’s head against the wall mounted box that just happened to control those hypnotic spirals or just luck. Personally he wasn’t betting on lady luck.

The hypnotic pacifier system (actually a modified orgy inducer) hadn’t failed entirely but had activated in a patchwork of erotic well-being. The combat aware Klingons had taken advantage of this, holding subsequent opponents under the pacifying erogenous beams before punching their happy lights out.

After a few minutes Blue Static’s crewmen had started arriving in answer to Sil’s call and the fight had begun to spread from there.

He picked up the last memory chip, more of a loose end than anything else, but you didn’t get to high rank within the fleet without being thorough.

Concourse

He’d lost Other-bouncer by running through a place he thought of as The Forest of Clothes. It had been a room with hundreds of erotic costumes posed on slowly moving machines made to look enticingly like customers.

Personally he didn’t see the point of clothes, you only had them on for the five minutes it took to rip them off and expose those assets that all customers really craved.

He’d noticed the number of ‘looks’ that he was getting, at first he’d assumed it was the admiring gaze all customers had; now he wasn’t so sure, some had looked displeased as his lithely muscular, totally naked body jogged past.

He’d always been good at figuring stuff out. All the other dancers said he was really really smart. The conclusion was obvious, one of the alternate worlds he’d imagined was one where customers didn’t want to be milked as often...this weird long world was like that, most of them didn’t like oily naked boys.

So..what was the solution? Easy, find a customer, but which one?

A quick scan of the customers nearby led him to select one who had the suitable look of deep yearning. Changing direction he headed straight to the customer who seemed to shrink back against one of the world’s walls.

“I wish to trade. You will give me clothing and I will be yours until you cum.”

“Here! Take it!” gulped the customer boy offering his ankle length black leather coat and a pair of black interface-shades.

He moved to fulfill his part of the bargain. The customer’s trousers were of a familiar design, a zip-fastener that allowed his cock to be exposed when half open or pulled all the way to reveal the anus as well.

Lifting the customer off the floor he inserted his cock scratching it slightly on the zip. The Customer helpfully wrapped his legs around his hips and his arms over shoulders.

“Oh! Yes! Fuck me you murderous Terminator you!” gasped the customer

“I do not understand” he replied, certain that no one had died

“Unnh, unnh, deeper! Sorry, you’re like in a film I saw.. about a naked guy that..oh yes!.. Who asks a victim for clothes and shades...that’s it, that’s it!.. Actually you’re better looking.” grunted the customer clenching his ass on the intruding cock.

He knew about fantasies, some customers paid more for having specific phrases said to them.

“Is there anything I should say to make this like your fantasy?” he might be on the run but he was still a dancer, leaving a customer happy was a sign of competence.

“Be rougher with me..and when..when you leave turn and say ‘I’ll be back’..ok?” instructed the customer

He understood rougher, Master liked rougher too. He slammed the customer back against the wall and kissed his willing lips savagely nipping at them.

Inside he could feel his cock pushing against the customer’s prostate, one thrust was all it would take. Because the customer was nice he was careful to re-penetrate a full twenty times before pushing in savagely hard, hitting his orgasm button.

The customer shuddered in orgasm and nearly lost his grip. Gently he slipped his hands under the customer’s arms and un-impaled him.

“Our bargain is complete”

“Listen... If.. If you ever need more clothes, or anything... Anything at all, here’s my data-link.”

“There is something, I must find a person called Hamiltim”

“kewl, your even hunting someone this is so fate!. Look, you already got my Interface-shades, you should be able to locate Hamiltim if she’s got a comm.”

He nodded, in fact his chip had already linked to the interface-shades and was scrolling a data-stream on the shades display screen.

It was puzzling, almost as if he already understood the shades use; even though, as a dancer, he’d never thought to touch technology. Finding Hamiltim and pulling up an auto-route to his location required only a fraction of a nano-second.

He turned away intent on finding this Hamiltim person and then hesitated glancing back at his customer.

“I’ll be back” Oddly enough, he actually meant it.

The clothing was working, the long coat had stopped nearly 63.4% of odd looks. Only those customers directly in front of him, the ones who could see his erect cock, glistening six-pack and pectorals had the opportunity to be disapproving.

With the aid of the shades, he now understood this world’s shape, it was much larger than he’d thought with many hundreds of doorways like the one that had once thought of as the boundary of his existence.

Fortunately Midshipman Hamiltim of the Starship Blue Static wasn’t far away, located in a small world called Chariots CXXIV (Saunas of London).

The Chariots world was quite different again from both his home, The Forest of Clothes and The Larger World. The decor was white and it’s roof appeared to be held up with ornate pillars. The atmosphere was also different, much hotter and with a steamy 98% humidity.

“Hey!” complained a man dressed in a white sheet-like garment “You can’t go in there!”

He immediately saw his mistake; this world was a no-clothes place. He shed the coat leaving it behind as he continued to walk. The Auto-route on the shades indicated left-ten paces, right- three paces.

“Security! We got a non-payer” shouted the man behind him. Presumably he was the Master pf this world.

Before him a mass of bodies moved slickly against one another, the condensation and sweat making them glisten almost as well as his own oiled physique.

“Midshipman Hamiltim”

“Kai??” said a body near the base of the pile.

“I was told you would help me if something went wrong and Kai couldn’t get away”

“Huh? Run that by me again”

PSS Blue Static

Cdr S’stev activated his comm and signaled the Colonial Police office with a CC to the local J-Knights. A download of the memory chips and a Fleet request that the Fuck Pit’s owner be re-educated were all that was needed. Case closed. Satisfied, he turned his attention to the other crisis.

Docking Bay, Mos Korath Orbital Elevator

“I’m staying” said Kai, raising his voice so as to be heard over the whine of trans-orbital engines.

“What??..but I thought...” said Kai

“We’d only get in each other’s way. We’re too similar. Besides, I’m a dancer it’s all I know.”

“Yeah, but Silver can fix that, he can make your memories come back fully.”

“No. They cloned us, made copies that looked and thought exactly alike. If your friend makes think exactly like you then we lose our individuality a second time” replied Dancer Kai

“Ok, I can see that. But what will you do? You got a zero credit rating, no home, no experience of the wider world. Hell, you still refer to shops as worlds.. you’re my Clo.. My brother. I don’t want you harmed, not after all that’s happened.”

“Actually its you that’s got the zero credit rating as I recall. As for a home the Fuck Pit was confiscated and shares issued equally between the dancers... I had a word with the others; they still want to dance. They’re like me only worse, the Fuck Pit is literally the only world they know. Some of them have even refused to look outside.”

“I guess you’ve thought this through pretty thoroughly”

“I’ve got your brain remember. I may be a sex obsessed dancer but that doesn’t mean I ain’t smarter than the average customer...and speaking of customers I promised a rather fine young specimen that I’d be back.”

“No point arguing, I know that expression on your face too well. Good luck Dancer”

“Good luck to you to Fleeter”

“Hey clones, hurry it up! Shuttle’s about to launch.” yelled Lt. Swift from the vehicle’s airlock.

“Duty calls. You need anything send for me.” replied Midshipman Kai turning away

Dancer Kai waited, watching the shuttle depart. The wind whipped up by the sleek craft’s take-off causing his borrowed coat to billow out revealing his perfect dancer’s physique to any Port-engineer customers who cared to look.