The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

When the aliens first landed, we truly thought they were aliens. They looked like aliens. The government treated them like aliens. To all of us citizens, this was a standard first contact scenario, like many others we had seen on the vid screen throughout our lives.

Dignitaries would exchange pleasantries, treaties would be negotiated and signed, alliances formed. The Frysian empire was still at war, after all, though that hadn’t changed for ages.

Lockator was the capitol world, which meant that we received the bulk of the raw resources needed for constructing new ships via our orbital shipyard. The Emperor’s presence meant that we barely felt the strain of the galactic war, unlike the hundreds of worlds nearer the outer rim.

Looking back, it was a hopelessly idyllic life, and could not have lasted for much longer even if the status quo remained. Eventually, our industrial city of Stacksville would feel the sting of spending all our time supporting the Empire’s endless war machine. Utilizing all our time and creativity in the service of destruction instead of creation.

Fortunately, the arrival of the aliens changed all that. We never could have anticipated how good it would feel to be under their control.

Jack cursed, shaking his tablet. “Why does technology never work the way it’s supposed to?” he complained, running his fingers over the blank touch screen.

Arms wrapped around his shoulders, a warm breath against his ear. “It’s because you refuse to upgrade, dear. All of the devices we use daily are, well, old.”

“Not as old as I am,” grumbled Jack. “I still remember a time when they designed things to last, not fall apart right when they hit the warranty date.”

Susan kissed his cheek and rubbed his shoulders. “That wasn’t true even when we were kids. Do you remember that old toaster? It wouldn’t go down far enough to toast more than the bottom third. You inherited that thing from your grandparents, and I had to throw it out when our kids started complaining.”

Jack grunted. “It used to work well enough.” He tapped the tablet, and was surprised when the vid screen on the far wall began to display the world news network logo. “What’s this? More news about our ship production? From the raw numbers, you’d think we’d be winning this war.”

He thumbed his tablet to raise the volume, which to his surprise suddenly began to work. He was about to change the channel when the camera focused on a landing shuttle. A musical tag played and a woman began to speak in a monotonous tone.

“Today negotiations began between the Empire and the Hivarians,” the news anchor droned.

The camera zoomed in, framing the door of the shuttle. It cracked open, revealing two shiny, black figures who marched down the ramp with military precision. They took up stations at the bottom, looking menacing in their faceless helmets, hands near their hips.

A train of the aliens followed, also dressed in shiny outfits. The leader of the group looked especially regal, clad in a skintight purple bodysuit. A small crown sat atop her head, tilted to the right. It was unknown how she could keep her headgear attached to her head, as she was completely bald.

Her face beamed blue, as if she was a luminescent moon. The other members of her party had more toned down attire, fewer ruffles and details than their queen. They didn’t look any less strange, however, having thick strips of metal clasping their throats.

Even the apparent queen was wearing a collar. She acted as if this was normal, waving a fan with one hand to hide half her face, lending her a mysterious air.

“It is unknown from where the Hivarians hail. All inquiries to the government have been refused due to galactic security.”

The camera pulled out, revealing a second entourage, this one even more ostentatious. Two foot men were working to roll out a red carpet, a floating, gilded stage coach pulling up to deliver its cargo. Two beautiful assistants helped the Emperor walk down the steps of the coach, his eyes sparkling as he descended.

Tubes extended from the back of the Emperor’s skull, plugging him into a bulky object on his back. It had been reported that this gave him the ability to monitor his large empire. This was a recent addition in the last month, sending a ripple of distaste throughout the Empire.

Cybernetics were generally frowned upon by the populace, but the media supported the Emperor, stating that it was necessary for him to stay on top of all the recent war developments. Over time, the objections had gradually subsided.

“Look at him,” muttered Jack. “He looks older than me, and I’m no spring chicken.”

The voice over continued. “In an unusual gesture, Emperor Julian, may his gentle hand guide the empire forever, has decided to greet the new arrivals.”

The Emperor clasped the hand of the alien queen, who tilted her head in a show of recognition, not deference. The Emperor returned the same.

“Their gestures here indicate they see each other as equals. Will this be the new ally we need to end the war? Negotiations are now proceeding in secrecy, but we will be sure to update you as soon as we find out more.”

The video faded as the alien delegation sent their queen to follow the emperor into his carriage. The footage went back to the newsroom, where a perky brunette beamed at the camera. “Reports are scarce, but the Emperor is going all out to greet these new arrivals. The rumor on the ground is that these aliens might be what’s needed to finally beat the cruel Ultharian invaders.”

She turned to her co-anchor, who was dressed smartly in an emerald dress. “Monica, do you think an alliance with these aliens will be sufficient to tip the balance of power?”

Monica flipped her long, blonde hair, which hid the right half of her face from view. “I’ve spoken to several experts, Peach, and they’re giving me mixed signals. The consensus appears to be that almost nothing is known about these aliens. How exciting! The emperor is having a private meeting with them now, after which we expect to know more.”

“Thank you, Monica,” replied Peach, turning back to face the camera. “The war grinds on, but with a new ally in the mix, we’re sure to win soon. Stay tuned, this is Peach, from the Galactic News Network.” The logo began to spin again.

“They said that the last four times,” said Jack, skeptical. “I’m starting to think they hire a new bimbo to say that phrase for every news story.”

Susan punched him gently on the shoulder. “Jack, behave. They’re not bimbos, they’re professional women.”

“Well, if they don’t want to look like fools, they shouldn’t waste my time,” Jack complained. “If they don’t know something, they should say it outright instead of hiding it under endless platitudes. I feel like an idiot for getting my news from someone named after a fruit.”

Susan squeezed his shoulders, hard, then stepped back. “They aren’t going to change, honey, so why are you getting so worked up over it?”

Jack tapped on his tablet to turn off the vid screen, groaning as he got up out of his overstuffed recliner. “It’s already bad enough that the news tells you what to think. Now they also want to tell you how to think. Today they’re telling us how good the aliens are. Tomorrow they might be bad. The day after they’re our saviors again. It’s a never ending cycle of brainwashing.”

Susan rolled her eyes, but didn’t bother responding. She had heard this complaint many times before.

Jack ignored her insouciance and looked around, making a noise of displeasure. “Where are the kids? It’s time for dinner.”

Susan took him by the arm, leading him towards the kitchen. “You know how much they hate being called kids,” she gently chided. “They’re attending college. They’re not kids anymore.”

“While they’re under my roof, they’re my kids,” Jack said, firmly. He squeezed her shoulder, and pulled out of her grip. Wandering over to the stairs, he looked up, seeing the telltale sign of flickering lights from his son’s room. “Zach? Zoe? Come on down, it’s time for dinner. Your mother has spent a long time preparing this for you!”

Susan marched into the kitchen, fetching her oven mitts. The automated oven shelf popped open, the smell of chicken pot pie flooding the kitchen. Susan grabbed the glass dish, lifting it up to slide it onto the glass surface of the stove top. Infrared heat would keep it warm until the family was ready to eat.

When no response came from upstairs, Jack squinted and stepped up one of the stairs, threatening to come up after his erstwhile children. “Dinner time! If you don’t come down you don’t get any.”

He turned and entered the kitchen, his duty discharged. Sitting down at the head of the table, he relaxed, tucking a napkin into his collar. Loud steps came from the staircase, bickering audible from his position. He grunted, serving himself salad from the bowl Susan had positioned in front of him.

He glared at a tomato as it rolled dangerously close to the edge of his plate, then sighed and looked up. Zoe, dressed in that horrid black makeup, was fiddling with Zach’s hair, which was a long mess as usual.

“What’s happened to you?” Zoe asked, playing with his long locks. “You used to attract all sorts of attention, but now you spend all your time in VR.”

Zach dodged, yelping when her hand inadvertently got caught in his hair. His gangly frame spun, eyes flashing. Zoe sat down, folding her hands contritely. “Sorry,” she murmured.

Zach looked like he was about to throw a fit, but all of his anger flooded into the wall of Zoe’s apology, finding no purchase.

If Jack was feeling cynical, and he usually was, he might think the apology was all an elaborate act on Zoe’s part. It probably was. That didn’t change the optics of the situation, however. If Zach lashed out, he’d have to punish him for bad manners.

Fortunately, Zach took the apology with a heavy grimace, forcing himself to back down. A long, deep swallow bounced his Adam’s apple. Jack grunted and folded his hands. At least they had worked the problem out themselves so he didn’t have to get involved.

Oblivious to the tension, Susan brought in her dish, a smile beaming across her face. “Tonight is a family classic! Pot pie, served with fresh salad and roasted corn! I also have a fresh blueberry pie baking in the oven!

At the mention of pie, Zach’s eyes sparkled. He picked up a fork, more eager for dessert than the main course. Susan sat the dish down, adjusting it minutely. She tucked a serving spoon under the flaky crust. “Enjoy!” she said in dulcet tones.

Zach jumped in, slapping an ambitious chunk of the pot pie onto his plate. “Remember to eat some greens, son,” remarked his mother. “They have lots of folic acid, perfect for growing bodies!”

Jack grunted, shoveling greens onto his plate instead of pot pie. The diabetes diagnosis had left him with few options, and while not currently overweight, his health scare had restricted him to a plant based diet. Momentarily.

Zoe ignored Zach’s eagerness, fiddling with her personal com device. Her fingers moved as if they were on roller skates, messaging her friends at top speed. She took a glimpse up at Jack’s steely eyed gaze and sighed, setting her device on the edge of the table.

“What are you all planning on doing this evening?” queried Jack, reaching for another tomato.

Zoe turned her head, her black, dyed hair done up in twin pigtails. Her lips were painted black, too, small black stars stamped on her cheeks to look as though they were dripping from her eyes. “Oh, you know, friend stuff,” she said, noncommittally. She waved a black gloved hand in the air. “I’m meeting up with Simone and we’re going to go hit up a club.”

Jack shot her his best disapproving stare. “If somebody tries to put the make on you, let me know, and I will ensure they regret it.”

Susan frowned. “Dear, you can’t offer to beat up every boyfriend she has, they’ll stop coming! I want grandchildren one of these days!” Her mouth turned down in a pout.

“Oh?” he grunted. “What about that leather jacket wearing reprobate? You know, the one with a dozen pieces of flair and a single earring? How’s he going to provide for her?”

He turned and pointed his index finger at Zoe. “I still firmly believe that this is a phase and you’ll come around eventually.”

She nodded her face to look at her plate, blushing. The long studs on her collar winked at him.

She looked like a mess to his eyes, but at least she still went out with her friends. In a few years she might drop the goth phase and start pursuing boys in earnest. When that happened, she’d land a guy, no problem. When he’d first met Susan, she had looked similar to Zoe, and he had fallen head over heels in love with her.

His eyes followed his wife’s hips with a satisfied smile. He was feeling rather amorous. He had plans for tonight. When she scooted past him to take her own seat, he pressed a possessive hand against her lower back. She was all his.

Susan trailed a finger along his shoulder blade and shot him a knowing look, which sent a thrill of excitement down his back. The spark was still there. They still had it.

He grunted and turned his attention to Zach, whose stringy hair haloed around his freckled face. It was true the kid hadn’t had an easy life. Gingers were generally tortured mercilessly in school, and nobody had made an exception for his son. Still, that was no excuse for him to retreat into the make believe world of VR.

If the young adult hadn’t been making excellent grades, he would feel the need to step in. As it was, he could only watch and worry. He crunched another salad leaf, dissatisfied with its very existence.

“Son, how about you and I get out the old gloves tonight and play some catch, for old time’s sake? I bet that I can still throw farther than you.”

“Sorry, dad, but my friends and I have made plans to try out this new VR game they just released today! It’s supposed to be so realistic you can feel the vacuum of space—a true intergalactic simulator!”

His excited voice died down, and he looked at his plate, his drooping hair hiding his eyes. “I’m sorry, uh, maybe next time.”

Jack grunted. He’d tried to show an interest in his son’s games, but they were just too far advanced for him. He couldn’t get past the ultraviolence and erotic elements that seemed to be part and parcel of his son’s favorite games.

Maybe he was just out of touch. He definitely wasn’t hip. Running a city’s maintenance department wasn’t exactly a glamorous profession. Nobody at the table wanted to hear the latest statistics about the tons of trash they’d had to recently pull out of the city’s sewer system.

That was okay. He was nothing if not a practical person. “Fair enough,” he said, shooting his son a steely eyed gaze, “but your mother and I have decided. You need to clean out your closet while you’re here on break from college. We can’t store everything you left behind from your childhood. You need to decide what we should keep, and what needs to go in the trash.”

Zoe, who had picked up her comm again, set it back down when his gaze moved to her. “That goes for you as well.”

“But dad!” she complained. “Simone and I were going for bubble tea tomorrow!”

“That sounds fun,” replied Jack, not backing down. “Even so, by the end of the week, you need to sort out what’s in your closet, or everything gets tossed.

She said a bad word, cringing in her seat as Jack gave her the evil eye. “Language!” said Susan. “Do you want me to wash your mouth out with soap?”

Zoe looked at the table and muttered an apology. Jack grunted, and went back to his greens, crunching them between his lips with distaste. The doctor said he needed to lose some weight, so he continued to chew begrudgingly.

Zoe dropped a fork on her plate and stood up, looking at everyone brightly. “I have to hurry off, or I’ll be late!” she declared.

Jack raised an eyebrow. “You’ve barely eaten anything, and you’ll miss dessert.”

Zoe bared her teeth in what could have been mistaken for a grin. “That’s okay, I’m not feeling hungry.”

She pushed back her chair and stalked out of the room, her chunky heels clopping on the tiled floor. They could hear her footsteps running up the stairs.

Jack looked after her and grunted, finishing his meal. He smacked his lips and looked at Susan. “If she’s not having pie, can I have her piece?”

His only answer was a glare that pinned him to his seat.

Zoe bit her lip and worked to hold back tears. Why was she feeling so petulant about being told to clean out her closet? She was in college, dammit! She should be mature enough to take it like an adult!

Even so, the arbitrary demand laid down by her father stung. She’d have to reshuffle some of her plans because of it, and she really didn’t want to.

She trotted over to the bathroom to make sure her burgeoning tears hadn’t ruined her makeup. No, the eyeshadow was still in place. She ran a hand over her corset top, taking in her ruffled skirt and black nylons. She was going to look stunning.

The sting of being told off faded, replaced with excitement. Her friend had told her about a new club in town, and she was eager to see what kind of DJ they had on tap. Dancing the night away to electronic music was just the thing to get her out of this slump.

The doorbell rang and she hurried down the stairs. “Coming!” she yelled, running her gloved hands over the banister as she skipped a few steps.

Susan was there at the door, opening it to reveal Simone. Her friend was decked out with brightly colored dread falls, a mix of greens and blues. She wore a blue spandex top which cupped her small breasts. Standing on impossibly high platform boots, she towered over her mother.

“It’s good to see you, Simone,” said Susan. She turned and hugged Zoe as she approached. “Take care, you two, and be safe!”

“Yes, mother!”

Zoe ran through the door and clasped Simone’s hand. They both giggled as they ran off the porch and down the driveway.

The doors of the automated transit pod opened for them and they jumped inside. “Please buckle your seat belts,” advised the AI.

After they had buckled themselves in, a map appeared on the front console. Simone punched in the name of the night club and they were away, the electric motor whirring.

Stacksville wasn’t known for its nightlife, but there was a small, but vibrant community growing in the downtown city core. Commercial buildings were slowly pushing industry towards the outskirts of town.

Simone giggled and pulled a small case out of her purse. Snapping open the turquoise cover, she dropped a handful of purple pills into her hand.

She popped several into her mouth and held the others out to Zoe. “Want some?” she asked. “They totally make you feel dreamy.”

“I don’t know,” replied Zoe. “I don’t want to be a complete idiot tomorrow.”

“Don’t be silly,” chuckled Simone. “They’ll only last for a few hours. This is the same stuff we tried last time.”

“Yeah, but last time I wasn’t staying with my parents and I could sleep in the next day.”

She hesitated for another moment, but eventually caved, taking a few pills and popping them under her tongue, letting them sit there. As they dissolved, the artificial taste of grape filled her mouth. She swallowed, feeling the sweet liquid course down her throat.

She knew from past experience that they would take a while to activate. She looked forward to the enhanced sensations the drugs would provide. Anything to get away from her overbearing parents.

Simone snapped her container closed and put it away. “Now,” she said, “what’s our plan for landing some boys tonight?” She licked her purple lips with her stained tongue.

The transit pod jerked to the right, taking them away from the suburbs. To their left were blocks of factories, gray, drab edifices.

“We could do some flirty dancing,” Zoe suggested.

“Hmm, I like the way you think, but we might be in a nice trance by the time we lose ourselves to the beat. Let’s start with some drinks and see if we can attract some attention.”

Simone grinned. “I bet if we flash some flesh, that will bring them running over.”

Zoe slapped her wrist. “Come on, Mony, you know I’m not brave enough to do that.”

“Just wait till you get a few drinks in you, I bet you’ll be grinding yourself all over their crotches!”

“Mony! I’m not that kind of girl!” She looked down and twirled her thumb ring, inspecting her glossy black nail polish.

“That’s not what you said last time!” chuckled Simone.

Zoe punched her shoulder, but her heart wasn’t in it. When Simone had pulled her out of her shell at the last party, she had let loose more than she had liked. This time she vowed she would work at controlling herself better.

If she was being truthful, though, she wouldn’t mind picking up a hunky boy by the end of the night. Who knew how far things might go?

Her principles warred with her lust for adventure, resulting in a stalemate. Just barely.

“What’s this new club called?” she asked.

Last time they had been forced to travel to a larger city, which was why she had been super excited when Simone had told her a new club was opening in Stacksville.

“Drone Ecstasy,” said Simone, looking around.

The transit pod had brought them downtown, cruising past banks of late night shops lit with neon signs. There was a surprising amount of foot traffic.

“Ah, there it is,” she said, pointing at a dazzling sign.

It took up the top two stories of the boxy building, clearly a conversion from a former warehouse. Each letter lit individually until the word was spelled out. D-r-o-n-e, then a pause, E-c-s-t-a-s-y. The entire phrase blinked a few times, the sign resetting with a different color.

As they watched, it morphed from green to blue to purple, never giving them time to focus. Surrounding the words were several female figures leaning over, all of them having rounded, bald heads. It could just be the coarse resolution of the lighting, but it looked like nobody had bothered to add any hair.

The pod rolled up to the entrance, automatically opening the curb side door. They shuffled out onto the sidewalk, taking in the cool night air.

A long line of club goers bent around the corner. Many of them wore skimpy outfits, but some of them seemed like they had made an effort to dress up. Overall, they just looked tacky.

“Come on,” said Simone. “I bet we can jump the line if we’re assertive.”

She sashayed past the crowd, leading the way with her swaying hips. Zoe wasn’t so certain, but she knew better than to try and stop Simone when she had gotten it in her mind to do something.

That tendency had often led them into questionable situations, but Zoe’s quick thinking had usually gotten them back out of them.

A few weeks ago, they had almost been arrested on trespassing charges when Simone had dragged her into an urban exploration. When they had been caught, she had managed to convince the security officer that they were lost and needed his protection to get away from the ‘dangerous’ area.

That was something she definitely hadn’t told her dad. He would bust a gasket if he thought his daughter was anything other than a perfect angel. His perception wasn’t anywhere close to reality, however. During the last couple of years at college, she had experimented with a more than a few different relationships, but none of them had been anything more than shallow pickups. She found herself getting bored of the stupid choices they tended to make.

Not that she hadn’t made plenty of bad choices herself. She was starting to think that this was going to be another one of them.

At the front of the line a real bruiser stood by the entrance, a gigantic hulk of a man. Simone was already trying to sweet talk her way past him.

“Hi, handsome. I heard that this is the most glamorous joint in town, and I want to get down tonight.” She leaned over, displaying her generous decolletage.

The bulky man grunted in appreciation. “Sorry love, great tits won’t grant you entry here, but nice try.”

He crossed his arms and peered down at her with beady eyes squinting over thick lips.

Zoe’s eyes widened. She well knew the sort of tantrums Simone would throw when she didn’t get her way. She had better step in before her friend made a scene.

If the brazen approach wasn’t working, perhaps she could apply a bit of fakery. She rushed forward, inserting herself in front of Simone. “I apologize for her behavior,” she said, feeling flustered, her cheeks red. “It’s only that we’ve arrived late, and we’re trying to join a friend already inside.”

That was a blatant lie, but it might just work. She gazed at him with her most innocent expression.

The large man looked to his left at a second figure that stood next to the door. She caught a glimpse of a silvery dome, thick red lips, and a blue face. The woman’s body was hidden under a thick overcoat, but she caught a glimpse of white teeth.

She purposefully kept her gaze on the bouncer, hoping for a sign of approval. The man took in the two of them, pausing for a beat. Hope plummeted, but a wide smile grew on his face. “You’re approved, get in there.” He jerked his head.

They breezed inside, trotting past the mysterious figure. Relief tingling her senses, she quickly forgot about the strange figure, thoughts of dancing crowding out the strangeness.

“Can you believe the gall of that man?” declared Simone, her face alight with fiery justice. “He ogled my tits!”

Zoe rolled her eyes. Simone was probably offended that the man didn’t find her attractive enough to let them in solely on the merits of her physical beauty.

It wasn’t a problem. She’d let her vent for a few moments so that she’d get it out of her system.

Her mind was already jumping ahead to their main goal for the night—finding some cute guys to buy them drinks and take them dancing. She wasn’t opposed to a one night stand, but while she was living with her parents she had no place to entertain a paramour.

Her thighs clenched as she fantasized about taking a man in a back alley, but it was only that. She wasn’t dumb enough to actually do it.

The drugs she had taken before coming to the club were starting to take hold, and she was already starting to feel some of the effects. She breathed deeply, taking in the fresh smell of the room. It was deeply fragrant, almost sweet. She felt hot and flushed, craving a drink.

Her eyes roved back and forth, taking in the interior. Recessed lighting set the tone. Low ceilings making the place seem cozy.

Off to the left was a full service bar, a circular wooden table surrounding a wall filled with bottles. Many bar stools were already occupied by patrons, downing their personal drinks.

Tables were jammed into every available space, populated with groups of friends who were making quite a racket. She scanned them briefly, but didn’t see any potential prospects among them. She didn’t fancy fishing in those waters to try and find a willing dance partner.

To her right was a large octagonal dance floor, stairs leading down to a polished wooden floor from seven sides. The eighth side contained a stage kitted out with electronic instruments, a blue curtain hiding the back rooms.

Nobody was on stage at the moment. They must be between sets. That explained why the dance floor was clear.

This presented her with a dilemma: where should they hang out? Usually the best place to hook up was on the dance floor proper. She didn’t fancy trying to talk to one of the single boys scattered among the periphery of the room.

No, their best chance right now was probably to sit at the bar and hope that they would be noticed. She steered Simone towards the bar, glancing around to see if there was a better approach.

Simone was still talking. “This place is stellar!” she declared, running a finger over one of the tables. “They didn’t spare any expense!”

Zoe tended to agree. This was far too nice for Stacksville. How would they ever make their money back on this venture? The capital losses must have been atrocious!

As they approached the bar, her eyes lit up. “Is that a robotender? How could they possibly afford one?”

Simone chuckled. “Always the consummate professional. Let’s not talk about their business model tonight, please? That turns off the guys.”

“Fine,” she said, sitting down and pressing her chest against the wooden table top. “Would you like something to drink, or should we pretend we’re broke?’

Simone hopped up onto a stool, sliding her leather skirt over the blue seat. “We can afford to start with something,” she declared. “With any luck we’ll reel in a catch before we need refills.”

She signaled to the bartender. “Cosmic Swirl, please!”

The bartending robot turned its spherical body and beeped at Zoe. “What would you like, mistress?” it said via its gravelly vocoder.

Zoe considered for a brief moment. “I’ll have a Surface Slider.”

The interior of the robot buzzed, the globe on top of its squat body swirling blue. Zoe giggled, finding the way it pulsed entrancing, a warm glow suffusing her body. That was probably just the drugs talking.

The robot chimed and a door on its rotund chest opened, a little shelf extending with her drink. She picked up the glass and admired the colors, layers of green and blue shifting in a dizzying array. She giggled.

“And for you, madam,” murmured the machine, a second drink sliding out into Simone’s waiting hands.

“About time!” she declared, seizing the hourglass shaped goblet. The fluorescent pink drink had spherical green globes suspended within the mix.

The robot ignored her snippiness, turning to continue its duties. Zoe rolled her eyes, but was careful not to let Simone see her annoyance.

She was a great friend, but sometimes her fiery temper flared, which could ruin an otherwise mellow night out. That wouldn’t do—it was threatening to ruin her vibe. She smiled, placing her hand on her friend’s arm.

“Let it slide, Mony, we’re here to have a good time.”

Simone tensed for a moment, but relaxed. “Yeah, you’re right. No need to get uptight over a bucket of bolts.”

She took a sip of her drink and sighed, looking over the wallflowers with a contemptuous glare. “Talking about robots. Look at them! Too afraid to approach. They sit there like lumps of metal!”

She snorted. “Where have all the interesting guys gone?”

Zoe briefly thought of her brother, but held her tongue. His temperament was wholly unsuitable for her friend. He was stable, diligent, and… boring.

Besides, all he did with his spare time was play hologames. He would never be elevated above the level of ‘icky nerd’ in her friend’s mind.

It was too bad. She knew he could be loyal, diligent, and damn persistent, but none of those personality traits would win him a woman. Especially if he spent all of his time chasing virtual prizes. Exasperated, she sighed to herself.

Fortunately, Simone took this as a gesture of agreement. “They’re all dicks. Dicks attached to wallets.”

She chortled loudly and took a swig from her drink, the multicolored morass sloughing into her mouth. She chewed on one of the green spheres, then burped.

“I bet none of those fools has the gumption to even talk to us. Look at them, they’re all stunned by our beauty.”

Zoe took a half hearted look, but her eyes skimmed over the other clubbers. She was feeling a bit anxious at the behavior of her friend. She was acting far more drunk than she should have been.

Speaking of which, she was feeling rather woozy herself. That was probably just the drugs she had taken earlier. Everything in the bar seemed to be more vibrant, and she was smiling uncontrollably.

Before Simone could complain further, the lighting dimmed, casting their faces in shadow. Dusky blue light back-lit the bar. She turned and gaped.

The stage in front of the dance floor had been populated with blue skinned female figures wearing shiny chrome helmets. Their outfits were made of a rubbery material, clinging tightly to their svelte bodies. A few areas were opaque to preserve some form of modesty, but a cut out panel in the center of their chests revealed the sides of their breasts and shining gems embedded in their breastbones.

One of them stepped up to the microphone stand, leaning into it as if it was her lover, a sparkling aquamarine drawing the eyes of the audience. “Good evening, Stacksville!”

As she drew out the words, the lights above her rotated in a circle, blue spotlights dancing across the floor. “I am your host, Drone Dancer. Call me Double D for short! Are you all being good little robots tonight? Want to get down with your cybernetic selves? Step onto my floor and let’s get the party started!”

Zoe had only a moment to register how odd they all looked before the rest of the clubbers rushed the stage, hoping to be the first to join in before the first song started.

Simone giggled. “Come on, Zoe, let’s dance!”

Zoe was feeling out of sorts, but didn’t resist as her friend dragged her onto the wooden floor, crowding in with the others. A smoky blue mist hissed from generators built into the steps of the octagon, lending everything a mystical air.

The bassist struck a chord, launching into a heavy backbeat. Holographic projectors spewed a colorful array of pyrotechnics in front of the band. The crowd raised their arms and howled with delight.

Drone Dancer pressed the mic against her lips and belted out the opening notes of a popular song, spinning around as she strutted on stage.

“Dance to the beat! Dance to the heat! Keep those footsies movin’ as the beat gets ya groovin’!”

Zoe found herself sliding into a dance move instinctually, surprising herself. Simone was dancing, too, almost as though her body was being moved like a puppet.

Slanted lighting roved over their bodies, making it difficult for her to focus. She watched the singer through the throng of clubbers, feeling oddly compelled to follow her blue skinned body as it moved effortlessly. Her shiny domed head slid back and forth as her rouged lips belted out the song. She found herself mouthing the words, repeating them back as her hips flexed.

“Dance to the beat! Repeat! Dance to the beat! Repeat!”

Unknown hands slipped into hers and she was dancing, dancing.