The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Chapter One

Madeline got captured on a Sunday afternoon. She’d just finished a double shift at the restaurant, twice as exhausting on a day when breakfast and lunch blur together. It was also Academy Awards night, and Maddy’s co-servers kept inviting her to some Oscar party, but the details kept changing, and Maddy’s feet kept getting sorer, and she wasn’t really that excited to begin with. So she smiled and said “maybe” and took down all the info about where to go and even dutifully filled out her Oscar pool voting sheet, all the while knowing she would bail.

At home, she kicked off her heels and stood in the hallway, rubbing her feet. Her cat, Clover, did not show up demanding to be fed, but Madeline barely noticed. She was musing about why she disliked the Oscars so much. It should have been fun for her—she liked musical numbers and over-the-top fashion statements, but she felt strangely disdainful of the actors on display.

She tugged away her hairband and shook her beach blonde hair. The humidity was unusually high for February, and her hair was always frizzy. Her uniform smelled like eggs. She wanted a bath and half a bottle of wine, but she didn’t want to watch beautiful people thanking their parents and hugging their statuettes to their silicon cleavage. She walked towards her bedroom, unbuttoning her shirt and making kissy-noises to lure Clover out of hiding.

She never made it to her bedroom. There was a woman sitting on her chesterfield, cradling and stroking Clover, purring on her lap. Oddly, the first thing that struck Maddy was Clover’s friendliness; he was usually a jerk to strangers. Then she zeroed in on the stranger’s face, and somehow Clover’s attitude made sense.

The woman was her. Well—mostly her. The tight, black, off-the-shoulder top emphasized a bust that was noticeably larger than Maddy’s, and the teeth she flashed with a predatory smile were straighter and whiter than Maddy could afford. Her hair was held back tightly with pins and a bun, but Maddy could see it was a completely different cut. But otherwise, the girl was her—same face, same beauty spot beside her left eyebrow, same long fingers and long legs and same everything.

Her twin smiled. Maddy opened her mouth to say “What the fuck?” but then a second stranger—just a blur in her periphery—stepped swiftly out from her kitchenette. She felt a juddering electrical shock, and then the world swam black.

When she awoke, Madeline was naked and restrained. She felt cool air on her face and torso, and a bright light stabbed behind her eyes. She struggled to move. Her bonds were strange—they held her upright, standing, with her arms down beside her, palms turned forward like in supplication. Her legs were spread, shoulder-length, and her spine bent slightly backwards, so her naked sex felt additionally exposed. The strangest part, though: whatever held her rigidly this way, she couldn’t see it, or even feel it, apart from a slight pressure when she strained to move.

Uncovered and enshackled by invisible bonds—but she could speak, and so she began to scream for help. Her throat was hoarse and dry, and her voice cracked at once. Then a silhouette stepped in to block the bright light, and it put a straw into her mouth and told her to drink. She couldn’t move her head much, but she pushed it away with her tongue and lower lip. “Fuck you,” she said. “Who are you?”

The figure pressed a button on her wrist, and the lighting in the room adjusted slowly, until the bright light was not the only source. Now Madeline could see that the room was small and beige, with soft contours and curves instead of right angles. She could see some large flat screens set into the wall near a metal door, and a window set into the door which made her think this was some kind of doctor’s office or laboratory. To either side of her, she thought, were circular pedestals, maybe like one she was standing on. They had identical circles on the roof above them—like the transporters in Star Trek, thought Maddy, somewhat deliriously.

She could also see her captor, who was setting the drink onto a wheeled metal tray. It was her twin again—or else a different twin, since this one was dressed and made up very differently. This version of Maddy wore a diaphanous dress that glittered slightly in the light. Translucent, it hid nothing of the woman’s large breasts, dark nipples and groomed pubes. Her hair was long and frankly magnificent—beach blonde like Maddy’s, but more full-bodied and better behaved than anything Madeline had ever been able to achieve.

The twin did not look like a guard, nor a nurse, although several of the items on her cart looked a bit like nurse’s instruments. Maddy noticed a thermometer and a roll of gauze. There was also a tube of lubricant, and a silver, two-pronged device that looked like nothing so much as a monstrous dildo. Maddy also saw a row of three hypodermic needles. Her stomach seized with terror.

“What’s going on?” She asked the non-guard, non-nurse, non-Maddy woman, as she smiled and caressed Maddy’s cheek. “You’re perfect,” she said, in a seductive purr. Then, before Maddy could clamp her mouth shut, she slid all four fingers of her right hand in.

“Mmmph!” Maddy tried to cry out. She was going to bite the woman’s fingers, hard, but then her tongue picked up the tang of novocaine, and seconds later, her mouth was growing numb. She tried to bite, but the best she could manage was a slurping suction on the long fingers. Meanwhile, Not-Maddy leaned in and held her chin—needlessly, since she was already paralyzed. She worked the fingers deep into Maddy’s mouth, in and out. Maddy gagged once, but then her throat went numb as well.

“That’s just to make this easier on everyone,” Not-Maddy smiled. “You won’t need anasthetic soon. You won’t need lubricant either. Soon you’ll be really perfect. Like me. Like Madd.”

Madeline’s mind was spinning. The word “Madd” sounded like a name. Was it another twin? A clone? She thought of changing tactics; since she couldn’t fight or run away, she might as well try calming down, and maybe getting a few answers out of this woman. But it was too late; now her tongue was too heavy to speak, and in any case, Not-Maddy seemed to be in no hurry to remove her fingers. After a minute, she switched from four to two, but she used her other hand to shape Maddy’s mouth around them. She pumped them in and out, which made Maddy feel like she was giving head. Her eyes darted to the two-pronged phallus, lying nearby on the tray, and she flushed red with fear and shame.

Not-Maddy’s next words confirmed where this was headed. While still finger-fucking Maddy’s mouth, she leaned in very close and whispered, “I can hardly wait to get inside your other holes. And I can’t wait till you can’t wait for it, too.” She cackled, then added cryptically, “They make us love fucking each other. It’s Number Five on the Menu. D’you wanna know the other four?”

Before Maddy could process any of this, the door swung open, closing with a pneumatic hiss behind a tall, broad-shouldered man. He wore an odd suit, all unlikely angles and iridescent fabric, and his face bore a stern expression. “Is she prepped?” He called to the twin.

Not-Maddy stepped away, sliding her fingers out of Maddy’s numb mouth. She turned to the man and they exchanged words, but Maddy wasn’t able to focus. Was she drugged? Or just in shock? She flexed her tongue around inside her mouth; it felt spongy and slow, and she thought flecks of drool were escaping.

She was almost beyond panic now. There was a heightened focus to the situation which gave her clarity, certainty even, though if she weren’t captured and trussed like this, she might have had more cause to doubt herself. Right now, she somehow knew that she was going to get fucked, maybe repeatedly, and somehow...altered...to look like these other versions of her. But she didn’t know why. Why the hell would anybody want more Madeline Wrights?

“Carry on, then,” Said the man to Not-Maddy, and then he stepped back and pressed some buttons on the wall. The screens jumped to life, presenting images of a rock-concert arena with an empty stage. “I’ll fill her in,” Continued the man, then looked directly at Maddy for the first time.

“No,” Grinned Not-Maddy, “I’ll fill her in!” She stepped in towards Maddy again, and this time her hand went south, towards the captive’s helpless crotch. She vulgarized Maddy’s lips and clit for a moment before sliding two fingers inside her vagina. Madeline winced.

“Stay on task, Seven,” Said the man. Pouting, Not-Maddy withdrew her fingers, but then playfully licked them before turning towards the metal tray. Meanwhile, the man addressed Maddy directly. “You don’t need to know everything, but you should know the basics. Your designation is Nine.”

“Muh dehsugnuhshun is fug yuh,” Slurred Maddy, abandoning her change of plans.

The man smiled coldly. “Madeline Wright, 24 years old, college educated, currently employed at the Sunshine Diner. Unmarried, heterosexual, three former sexual partners. Peanut allergy.”

Madeline blinked. How did they know all this about her?

“That’s the status quo in your world,” Said the man. “In this world, it’s quite a different story. In this world, Madeline Wright became Madd Rights, an internationally famous singer, dancer, and actress. Do you understand? In this world—the world we’ve brought you to—you are the most popular person on the planet.”

Before Maddy could process this, or respond, two things happened. First, on the TV screens, the crowd silently erupted into a frenzy as a blonde woman strutted onto stage. She was every inch a star, sporting a glittering mirror-ball dress and a wireless microphone headset. Her hair and teeth and cleavage all gleamed beneath the stage lights. She was perfect. And she was, unquestionably, Maddy.

Meanwhile, the Not-Maddy in the room was prepping the first of the three hypodermic needles. She pried open Maddy’s numb mouth and administered the needle, pumping some drug into her gums. She barely felt it, thanks to the novocaine.

The man continued speaking: “Our world differs from yours in other respects. We have the technology to cross over, obviously. And I believe our capacity for genetic modification is somewhat ahead of yours. We do not clone Madd Rights, or any other celebrity—that would be cost-prohibitive, and besides, it would take many years to raise the clones to a suitably profitable age. But we can profit off Ms. Rights’ celebrity status in other ways.”

Not-Maddy withdrew the needle and set it aside. Maddy was starting to feel lightheaded and dry in the throat. Whatever was in that needle, it was working on her fast. She managed to croak out, “Whah yuh duh to me?”

The man smiled coldly again. “There will, in time, be a great many answers to that question. But in the short term, this is what’s happening to you. Seven, here, is injecting you with amino acid solutions which will alter both your physiognomy and your brain chemistry. We will rewrite you, in effect, to perfectly resemble Madd Rights—at least, on the outside.”

The feeling was returning to her face, now, but she was seized with an extreme thirst. She smacked and licked her lips. She needed something in her mouth, desperately.

“On the inside, it’s a more complex affair,” Said the man. “Adjust her position, Seven.”

Not-Maddy, or rather Seven, keyed some buttons on her watch. The magnetic matrix, or whatever it was holding Maddy prisoner, began to shift. Slowly, she was forced into a new position—balancing on her toes, with her knees hugged up to her chest and her neck thrust slightly forward. She didn’t have any choice in the matter, and in any case, she wasn’t really paying attention. All she could focus on now was her thirst, and the sound of the man’s voice.

He walked towards her, opening the fly of his pants. “In your world, Madeline Wright has a timid, introverted personality. Not so here. Madd Rights is flamboyant and impulsive, forever living on a razor’s edge. We intend to replicate those traits inside your brain—but only up to a point.”

The man fished out his penis, which was slender and soft and dark within his pale hand. Maddy licked her lips again. “You are our property now, after all,” Said the man, “And we can’t have you behaving too independently. So we will encode your brain with numerous failsafes.”

That phrase frightened Maddy, but she couldn’t dwell on it. The sight of her captor’s cock had crystallized her thirst, and her attention was riveted to the wrinkled sliver at the end of its dark pink tip. She had never craved cum before; the last time a boy had cum in her mouth, she’d spat it up and shown him the door. But now, her lust eclipsed all that. Encode her brain. Was it happening this fast?

“Open your mouth,” Commanded her cock-wielding captor. She obeyed, remembering the sudden, humiliating force of Not-Maddy’s fingers in her mouth. This was going to be much worse, and better. She shaped her lips around the silken head as it invaded her. She curled her tongue, come-hither, to lure the growing shaft in deeper. She wasn’t just hungry for cum, she realized; she wanted cock, filling her up, thrusting, turning her into a hole. She moaned as the shaft began to swell aggressively.

“Satisfactory technique,” Came his voice from above her head, “Luckily, our clientele will never be able to compare her blowjobs to the real Madd Rights’, or we might have to program some additional skills.”

Madeline sealed her lips around the cock and tried to bob her head, but her magnetic restraints did not give her much range of motion. Happily, her captor took her hair in his hand and began to work her head back and forth, shoving the tip of his shaft a bit deeper each time. She was afraid she would gag, but no matter how deep he went, her reflex didn’t activate. Distantly, she wondered if that was a change they’d encoded as well. If so, she was grateful. She loved sucking cock! The more, the better.

And she loved being used. It was confusing. She knew she didn’t belong here; they’d kidnapped her, and that was wrong, of course. But as the man increased the force of his motions—as he made her mouth receive his sumptuous cock, harder and harder—she could feel that sense of panic melt away. That he was giving her this chance to be his—what? His slave, his fucktoy—was exhilarating. She marvelled at the fact that it had never occurred to her before, not once in her entire life! To beg for cock. To shame herself, to be abused, to do anything they tell her—

Her captor started to buck his hips, losing the rhythm, grunting and swearing under his breath. He was about to cum. Maddy was horrified and thrilled. I’ll do anything they tell me to, she repeated to herself. It was more than an idea. It was her.

“Nnnggghaaagh!” The cock within her jerked spasmotically, greasing the back of her throat with hot jism. He held the back of her head while he twitched and panted. She did not have to be told to swallow his cum; in fact, she wouldn’t have had a choice. He kept his cock inside for nearly a minute while he caught his breath. By the time he withdrew it, the shaft had begun to droop again.

“Nice,” He said, simply. He held his cock up, sagging slightly, and she licked it clean without having to be asked. Nearby, she could see that Seven had shed her diaphanous robe, and was brazenly playing with her clit while she watched the aftermath of Maddy’s first act of submission. With wide eyes, Maddy noticed another conspicuous difference between herself and Not-Maddy. The other girl’s clitoris was enormous—nearly the size of the pad of one of her thumbs.

Maddy grinned with cum-speckled lips. “Do I get one of those?”

Not-Maddy returned her grin. “One thing at a time, gorgeous,” She trilled, then pulled her hands away from her snatch long enough to key in another command on her watch. Madeline felt the magnetic constraints shifting again, forcing her body into a new, though equally submissive, posture. Giddily, she wondered what was next.

She found herself kneeling with her legs spread wide, and her arms stretched behind her back, hands clasped in what would have been an awkward pose, except for the restraints that cradled her. The posture had her breasts thrust forwards pornographically. It did not surprise her when Seven began cradling and pinching her tits.

“I get a new rack, right?” Madeline breathed.

Seven only grinned in response, then squeezed more anaesthetic from a tube and rubbed it onto Maddy’s nipples. But the man answered her question while he tucked his penis back into his pants. “Each injection has a physical effect, but the genetic alterations are more than skin deep. We will increase your sensitivity, your threshold for arousal, your endurance. Madd Rights is notorious for her multiple orgasms.”

Seven prepped the second hypodermic. “We can go forever.” She agreed enthusiastically.

“We can also drastically reduce your need to sleep, eat, and excrete,” Continued her handler. “These sorts of alterations can be deadly if abused, but rest assured, we’ll take very good care of you. You were costly to obtain, after all.”

Maddy couldn’t help but wince as the needle slid into her left nipple. But the anaesthetic kept her from feeling any pain, and swiftly she felt a delightful tingle instead. It spread from her aureole to the rest of her breast, then suffused her entire torso with warmth. “Mmm...” She ran her tongue across her lips, “this is fucking crazy.”

The man chuckled. “From your perspective, I’m sure it is. Your personality is being overwritten by the minute.”

So are my knockers! Maddy thought deliriously. The restraints had her head titled back, but in her periphery she could still see her left breast swelling in size. Meanwhile, Not-Maddy was injecting her right nipple with the same growth serum.

“Let’s test it, shall we?” Said the man, idly. He wasn’t watching Maddy anymore, but rather gazing at the screens where Madd Right was still performing, singing mutedly to her adoring crowds. “Do you enjoy recreational drugs?” He asked.

“I don’t do drugs,” Replied Maddy firmly, but as soon as she said it, the notion felt wrong. She released an involuntary giggle. “I s’pose I’d try anything once, though. Or a bunch!”

“Good, good,” He said patronizingly, “And do you like being spanked, Nine?”

This time, Maddy tried to think before speaking. Her first boyfriend had tried to spank her once. It had been a humiliating turn-off, and her cheeks had ached for days. She tried to zero in on that memory, hoping its clarity would serve as an anchor for her drifting personality. But it was hard to focus on any thought, what with her tits ballooning and her body afire with sexual sparks.

“Nine?” The man repeated. “Would you like me to spank your ass?”

“Fuck rights!” She grinned. To herself, she added, Why the fuck not? If everything else is going topsy-fucking-turvy, why not get a good hard spanking too?

“And if I told Seven here to turn around and present her ass to you, would you lick it?”

Maddy felt a wave of revulsion, but it passed through her in a heartbeat. She’d never dreamed of licking another girl’s anus before—much less a girl who, for all intents and purposes, was her. But now, it was all she could think about.

Seven was obviously in the same zone. “Ooh, Master, may I?” She squirmed, depositing the empty needle on the tray and swivelling around to wave her butt at Maddy. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a good, tough tongue rimming my rosebud.”

“No, let’s finish what we’re here to do,” Said the handler, though Maddy noticed by the way he adjusted himself that his cock was starting to stir again. She wondered if she and the other Not-Maddys weren’t the only ones getting injected with fuck-juice in this messed-up sci-fi prison.

Seven pouted, slapped her own asscheek once, and then set about reconfiguring Not-Maddy for the final injection.

Through the haze of arousal, she was hit with the starkest terror yet. Not-Maddy, she thought again. I’m Not-Maddy now. She had begun thinking about Madeline Wright as some other person, some loser with a cat and a dead-end job and no sexual joie de vivre. It was hard to conceive that she’d ever even known that person, much less been her.

Instead of grappling with the existential implications, Nine threw herself into the transformation with relish. “Mega-clitty time!” She enthused as the restraints shoved her gently onto her back, with her hips and legs suspended in the air. Her thighs were spread wide, exposing everything between.

“Yes, Madd’s clitoral enlargement is the stuff of internet legend,” Said the handler, sitting down and idly stroking his package through his pants. “We have no way of confirming its veracity, but our clients demand that we make good on every rumour, however salacious or absurd.”

Seven grinned wickedly. “I tried to start a rumour that she had twelve cunts, but no one bought it.”

Nine laughed out loud. She felt a bit nauseous at the thought of that final needle going into her most sensitive area. But she knew there was no going back now.

“What else do I get from this dose?” She asked the man while Seven knelt between her legs to anaesthetize her.

“Birth control and immunity from most STDs. It also halts your menstrual cycle, though we have the option to reverse that, if we get a client who likes that sort of thing. Meanwhile, your vaginal canal will produce round-the-clock lubrication, and your capacity for ejaculation will—”

“She’s a fucking flood down here already!” Interrupted Seven. She stood up and stretched out a hand and waggled her five juice-slickened fingers over Nine’s face.

“Did you...is it...is it over?” Asked Nine, referring to the needle. But Seven grinned and slid her two forefingers into Nine’s mouth. “Sweetheart, fuckmate, the ride’s just barely getting started.”

Nine sucked eagerly on her twin’s fingers. She could taste her own arousal, sour yet sweet. She wanted more, so much more. She wanted everything, all over, all at once. She wanted cock and cunt and juice and cum and pain. She deserved it. She was made for it—remade, reborn. And she was going to get it. That was the kicker, the thought that nearly made her climax just by thinking it. She was going to have it all.

The handler stood up. “I think it’s safe to demagnetize her, now. The reconfiguration has obviously taken hold; she’s not going to run away.” Obediently, Seven tapped her watch and Nine felt her ass and legs settle down onto the ground. Then, for the first time since she’d awoken here, the faint magnetic pressure faded, and her body was under her control again.

She sat up and pried her legs apart, eager to explore the new terrain. Her new clitoris was still swelling, like a ruby-hued mushroom or a tiny balloon. She brushed it tentatively, but it didn’t provoke the thrill she expected. The anaesthetic, she thought, and pouted.

“This’ll wake everything up,” Said Seven, holding up the double-pronged dildo.

Nine moaned with desire. Her need to fit that diabolic thing inside her holes eclipsed all other thoughts. She started to scramble forwards, but Seven barked, “On your back, bitch!” and Nine complied instantly. She didn’t expect her other self to be so commanding, but she loved it. She spread her legs as wide as she could while Seven knelt between them.

As her twin positioned the cocks against her pussy and her ass, Nine heard the male handler’s voice. “You will find it very satisfying to be dominated by another Madd-girl,” He was saying, “it’s one of the top items requested by our clients. Once they find out that we have more than one Madd Rights available, the wealthy ones will pay top dollar to watch one of you humiliate another.”

Nine moaned again. She could definitely feel the rods as they slid inside her. The pressure against her ass, especially, was unlike anything she’d ever felt.

The handler seemed to notice. “Anal sex is Number Four on the menu, and vaginal penetration is Number Three. I see you are quite comfortable with both.”

“Fuck rights!” Nine gasped. She cradled her asscheeks and lifted up her hips, to give her dom-twin better access as she violated both lower holes. With each thrust of the double-dildo, more nerve endings were waking up. The pleasure was mounting so fast, she thought she might black out before she came.

“Now, let’s discuss Menu Items Number Two and Number One,” said the handler. He was standing over Nine, now, as she lay helpless on the white floor. His cock was in his hand again; from her angle, it seemed like a Pinocchio nose overlaid upon his face. She giggled amid gasps.

Seven looked up when she heard the giggle. “Oh, you think this is funny, you slut? You fucking whore?” And she withdrew the dildos roughly.

“No! No, shit, no, please. I’m sorry. Please, just—ungh. Just fuck me!” Nine squirmed and begged. When it became clear that her twin was not going to replace those incredible pleasure wands, she scrambled up onto her hands and knees, reaching for the dildo. Seven slapped her face.

“Beg me again.” She said.

Nine was so horny she began to cry. “God, please, please give it to me. Everything—you know what it feels like! How can you—? Aah!” Seven slapped her again. Then she leaned forward and spat on Nine’s face.

“You love it,” she said. “You’re a slutty brainless fuckslave. Touch your clit.”

Still sobbing, Nine reached under her belly and found her monster button. It was awake. Touching it felt like humping the third rail of a subway track.

“Number Two on the Menu,” Drawled the handler, somewhere up above her. “Self-stimulation.”

“Tell me what you are,” Said Seven.

Nine was in freefall. Her lust for the dildos was a vise around her mind. But she also couldn’t stop touching her mythic clit—it was so engorged, she could almost wrap her hand around it, like a tiny cock, except it was too sensitive and slippery to grasp for more than a second at a time, so she had to keep backing off, like touching a hot coal. And now, this question. What the fuck am I?!?

Fortunately, Seven supplied the answer. “You’re a slutty brainless fuckslave. Remember?”

“I’m, uh—oh—fuhh—I’m a s-slutty...”

Seven stood up and straddled Nine’s back, facing her ass. She began raining slaps down upon both asscheeks, while repeating the phrase in time: “You’re a—slutty—brainless—fuckslave!”

“I’m a slutty brainless fuckslave!” Nine blurted, closing her eyes against the pain. With each spanking blow, she felt her clit lurch, and another thermic jolt of pleasure ran up her spine to her base-brain. Her newly enhanced tit-sacks swung beneath her, pendulous with rock-hard nipples.

Satisfied, Seven rewarded the new fuckslave by penetrating her with the dildo. Nine received the two prongs doggy-style, bucking her hips wildly to devour the rigid shafts. Very distantly, in some tiny part of her brain that retained some semblance of thought, she realized that those dildos must have been custom-made to fit her holes exactly. She was being filled to capacity.

Apart from that swift thought, the woman who had been Maddy Wright yesterday was, at this moment, effectively brainless. Her neural network had been expertly and mercilessly reconfigured. She could reason, and she had free will, but only until her handlers said otherwise...or until the Menu became so intense that her modified genes overwhelmed thought. She was beyond a slut; she was physiologically addicted to whatever pleasures her handlers had chosen. The ultimate fuckslave.

Above/behind/inside her, Seven’s assault continued. Nine began to cum, but it wasn’t an explosive climax, but rather an endless crest of paralyzing pleasure. She must have been screaming, because the man’s voice told her to be silent. She clamped her mouth shut and opened her eyes. Inside, the mile-long orgasm continued.

The man was standing directly in front of her. His hand was pumping his cock furiously, making the tip appear to lunge at her with each rough stroke. His cheeks flushed with exertion. As he began to erupt, he managed to grunt out, “Number One. Humilation.”

Oh, yesss. Nine was struck with a pure, diamond-clear thought. Of course the clients want her humiliated. She was a copy of a superstar. She needed to be taught a lesson. Brought down a peg. Laid low.

She was way beyond the capacity to speech, but she managed to make her need clear with just a pleading expression—or else, more likely, her handler already knew exactly what she needed. With a sharp cry, he came. His cock unleashed a jet of cloudy jism, then a second spurt, and finally a feeble third. Nine strained her neck forward and caught all three jets with her face.

With that act of submission—something Madeline Wright would never have even imagined, much less consented to—Nine’s endless jet-stream climax broke the sound barrier. Instantly, pleasure was in every muscle, a hammer-to-anvil blow of uncut lust. She screamed and spasmed and shot hot wet juice from her cunt.

“Lullabye for Number Nine,” Said the handler.

The ropey cream that covered her cheeks and lips and eyelashes felt heavy, and she let it draw her happily to ground.

“Transition successful,” Said the man, wiping his dick with a handkerchief. “Maybe the most successful yet.”

“Fuck rights,” Said Seven, as she watched her new sister fall asleep. “I think I might be obsolete soon.”