The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It was a fortnight or three weeks after that memorable briefing in my Minister’s office up on the sixth floor of the MoD Main building in Whitehall. Things hadn’t really moved on since then. There had been no further incursions by extraterrestrial craft and to many of those involved it looked as if the danger had passed. Sure, we hadn’t been able to trace the women who had fled the crash scene shortly before the explosion. They seemed to have vanished without trace.

My minister had been given oversight of the investigation and the preparation of our defences should there be a further ‘attack’ so I had more than enough to keep me busy as his private secretary. My duties involved liaison with other departments and agencies: this was quite some job.

I was at home now in my small flat in Knightsbridge after yet another late finish to a day that had including my accompanying the Undersecretary of State for Defence (Mr MacIntyre’s full title, remember?) to a meeting with the Chief Scientific advisor’s staff for an up-date on the remains of the craft which were still being studied mainly at the crash site in Shropshire. Some sections of the hull, some components and certain systems however had been removed and transported to the Royal Aircraft Establishment at Farnborough for more detailed study. It was planned that the whole of the craft would eventually be transported there piece by piece and reassembled in much the same way as a crashed aircraft is by accident investigators: although this would take a very long time.

The other thing that had been on the agend was a detailed review of everything that was known about the thing growing inside Sergeant Lowe, Which, considering the fact that nothing newer than the scan was available for study, well, this did not take long.

The Minister had stared at the CT scan that clearly showed what looked like the outline of a giant woodlouse embedded in the wall of the woman’s uterus. A picture that I will freely admit made my skin crawl. I tried not to imagine what it would be like to have one of those monsters living inside me but couldn’t... All that I had was a deep sense of revulsion.

“So this is some kind of alien parasite?” The Minister had asked brightly.

Dr Patel had shaken his head. “I am afraid not, Minister.” He had said apologetically.

The Minister had scowled—clearly he did not like being contradicted by a ‘mere’ civil servant. “But it’s almost certain that this thing... This bug is connected with the craft...” He blustered.

The Chief Scientific Advisor nodded. “Oh, I agree with you that there must be a connection. Sergeant Lowe had an exemplary record until she encountered the craft and deserted. But the creature now inside her cannot be of extraterrestrial origin....”

Showing increasing frustration MacIntyre interrupted yet again. “Why ever not?”

“A parasite or, in this case a symbiote, can infest a host, Minister, only if it is evolved to overcome all of the hosts defences. Nothing of extraterrestrial origin could do so. Therefore the creature living inside her must have originated here on Earth.” Dr Patel explained patiently.

“But... But... We’ve got nothing like it here!” The Minister persisted.

“Actually we have. There are a group of crustaceans, the isopods, that have a similar body plan; the woodlouse, for instance. And there are a large number of sea creatures that belong to the group—some much bigger than the one inside the sergeant.” The CSA continued patiently. “Oh, best guess is that something was taken from Earth and altered, probably selectively bred or genetically engineered. The only possible explanation is that they originally came from here.”

There was silence for a moment until the Chief of the Air Staff asked a question. “Hang on, couldn’t some extraterrestrial species have been modified in the same way?”

The Minister nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes! It could, couldn’t it?”

“Well it could,” Patel said, “but it’s unlikely as the biological and biochemical differences would have been too great. No, it’s much more likely that something was taken from here and altered.”

The Chief of the Air Staff suddenly slapped his hand down on the table, making me jump. “But this would have required a massive research project that would have taken time... They’d have had to take human beings to experiment on, too....” He looked thoughtful for a few seconds before continuing. “The amount of preparation required indicates that this couldn’t have been a chance encounter with a passing spacecraft... It must be part of some calculated strategy...”

“An alien invasion?” Chortled MacIntyre. “Think what you are implying, man!”

The Press Officer spoke next. “An invasion or a colonisation effort. And there are all those reports of alien abductions...”

“What? Cranks! Nutters! All of them... The whole thing is preposterous. I can’t go to Cabinet with a tale like this!” The Under Secretary almost shouted.

Air Chief Marshal Falkner and Dr Patel both looked at each other but it was the latter who spoke. “Someone needs to, Minister if only to outline this as a possibility.”

“But they’ll laugh at me!” He almost wailed.

“How will they react to you if you ignore it and it all proves to be correct?” Patel asked quietly.

The meeting had ended shortly afterwards and the two men had been instructed to prepare a brief for the Prime Minister and The Cabinet. My Minister wasn’t very happy but had grudgingly acknowledged the conclusions as being at least possible. At long last it seemed that things were beginning to happen!

That was this morning and now, twelve hours later, I was relaxing with a mug of hot chocolate while watching Newsnight on BBC2. Newsnight, for the uninitiated, is the establishment’s news program in that everyone who is anybody in government and the civil service watches it regularly.

There was currently a a piece airing that was going over the implications of last years referendum on Scottish independence and the demands for yet another one by the Scots Nats.

Suddenly there was the sound of someone knocking my front door. I glanced at the clock—quarter to eleven. This was either something urgent or an intruder: although the latter was unlikely to knock! I left the room and headed out into the front hall and pressed the stud of my intercom, at the same time glancing at the security screen that gave me a view of whoever it was that was outside my flat. It appeared to be an Air Force officer, a Squadron Leader, no less.

“Yes?” I demanded.

“Squadron-Leader Jones. Ma’am,” she said holding her ID card up to the camera, “I have some urgent data from the Chief of the Air Staff.”

I glanced at the ID on the screen and then opened the door. “You’d better come in Ms Jones.”

As I stepped to one side she did so and so did the Corporal who was accompanying her. The corporal was carrying a couple of red ministerial despatch boxes so any remaining doubts that I had evaporated—I was used to these boxes which are really smallish battered red attaché cases and are used to transport government papers. It goes without saying that they were an integral part of my working life.

Jones followed me into my lounge having removed her beret on entering: she seemed to be in her mid-thirties, was quite good looking and had red-gold hair. “Sorry to have to trouble you so late at night, Ma’am,” she said, “only Air Chief Marshall Falkner thinks that it is imperative that you are made familiar with these new findings regarding the downed craft so that you can brief the Minister.”

I stopped her. “Wouldn’t it be more appropriate for you to take this directly the the Under Secretary of State rather than me presenting it second-hand?”

The Squadron-Leader shrugged. “Considering Mr MacIntyre’s hostile reaction at today’s meeting it was thought that he would be more likely to listen if it came from you, Ma’am.”

I relaxed, my Minister had certainly been reluctant to accept the conclusions that Dr Patel and the Chief of the Air Staff had presented... Hold on, I thought as the impropriety of it all struck me, they are criticising the Minister: this just isn’t done!

Something else struck me: both the officer an the NCO were wearing combat kit... This is not the normal uniform of service personnel based at the MoD. Suddenly I felt uneasy.

“Look here, Squadron-Leader, this is all highly irregular, ” I said jumping to my feet, “I think you had better leave.”

“That isn’t going to happen, Diana!” Came a voice from the hallway that led to my front door.

I spun around just in time to see two more women enter my lounge: the first was Ginnie Davies, the MoD Press Officer who had been at today’s meeting. The one who followed her in, however, was an RAF Sergeant who I didn’t know, although her face was very familiar.

“What the hell is going on, Ginnie?” I demanded. “Just what are you doing....” My voice died away as the identity of the Sergeant dawned on me. I had been seeing her face on pictures that were part of the file containing the scans. It was the defector, Sergeant Lowe.

“Please sit down, Diana,” Ginnie Davies said quietly, “just give us a few minutes and everything will be clear to you.”

“Okay, I’ll listen to what you have to say, Ginnie, but make it quick.” I said sinking back down into my chair.

“Who said anything about words?” Davies purred.

It happened so quickly that I didn’t have time to react... Firstly both Ginnie Davies and the Squadron-Leader grabbed me and then the Sergeant gagged me with a piece of duct tape, successfully silencing the scream that was building up. I struggled desperately, but couldn’t prevent Sergeant Lowe from unfastening my skirt and pulling it off... Then when my panties followed it I really began to panic. I was too busy struggling with the three of them that I didn’t see the Corporal open one of the red boxes and lift something large and many-legged out of it.

They pulled me down onto the floor and forced my legs apart... There was a loud ‘crack’ and I guess that I must have passed out or something as the next thing that I remember was me sitting in my arm chair and Rosie Lowe was holding a glass of water to my lips. I was still naked bellow the waist but somehow it didn’t seem to matter... These women were my sisters and as Ginnie Davies had predicted, everything really did make sense.

We talked for some considerable time—until well after midnight, as a matter of fact. And then, after the RAF personnel had departed, Ginnie and I shared a late night drink before hopping into bed. This was the first time that I’d ever made love with another woman and I instinctively knew that it wouldn’t be the last.

Time is passing and Wendy and I make love whenever we can: usually to each other but often with our sisters who share our nest. Wonderful though those experiences are, they do not compare with an actual mating that involves our riders as well as our selves.

Because of necessary internal changes within our vaginas, necessary to allow our riders to mate, we cannot take part in anything that resembles penetration: even internal fingering is fraught with difficulties. The main problem being caused by our ovipositor—the tentacle-like tube that we use to deposit eggs deep inside each other’s womb. When not in use it has to go somewhere and contracts and thickens taking up most of the available space inside it’s owner’s vagina. Oh, there’s enough space for the baby riders to be squeezed out past it but that’s all. I’d love to fuck Wendy with a strap-on: or be fucked by her in the same way but such an act might well injure or otherwise damage our resting ovipositor.

Oh, we did get hold of a strap-on but dared not use it. The Elves can’t see what the fuss was all about... They’ve got no wish to be fucked... The only members of their species that still go in for this are the tiny number of males and unmodified females that are retained solely to keep the species going. I suppose that they are ‘farmed’ although I believe that the females involved are allowed to take a rider after producing a significant number of baby Elves.

Because of this the ridden females, the bulk of their species, no longer have any interest in penetrating each other. Maybe humans won’t in fifty or a hundred thousand generations but right now many of us still retain the need or rather the urge to make love in this way.

Still, Wendy, myself and indeed the other girls too, have another hole available that is unimpeded and several of us have begun to experiment with anal sex: much to the chagrin and confusion of the four Elves: none of whom was remotely tempted to join in! I guess us humans are more adventurous in our love-making than they now are which is their loss, after all. Wendy has such a fantastically plush arse... Broad, rounded, and well padded: it’s so inviting—especially the little hole in between her pillowy cheeks. How could any girl not want to fuck it?

Life goes on at the Manor House and plans are made to set up businesses that will produce an income to support the nest. There are a series of holiday chalets over to one side of the land that makes up the estate and these have been let. Lady Gemima used to employ people to administer, maintain and clean them, but since she was altered to become one of Queen Julie’s carers she has naturally lost all interest in the Manor House, the Estate and the various business enterprises that are based there. These responsibilities have devolved to the nest and my sisters. Lady Meghan, one of Her Ladyship’s daughters has assumed the role of business manager and has thrown herself into the vital task of expanding our income. I mention this as an aside just so that readers know that we are well-rooted in the real world.

Our nest, in the mean time cannot grow until the next generation of little riders become mature or Queen Julie becomes productive and this means that we can do little but identify potential new recruits. Several of our sisters are in favour of seizing suitable women now and holding them until they can be implanted. However this is fraught with difficulties and the consensus of opinion is against it and as consensus is what governs a nest: it will not happen at the moment... Not unless outstanding individuals are identified, that is. And if that is the case it won’t be difficult to construct a secure holding-area in one of the cellars underneath the Manor House! Whether or not this happens, well, only time and circumstance will tell.

Time passes and the summer shows no sign of ending as August gives way to September. The weather is warm and sunny with only the occasional wet day. Sure, the nights are beginning to draw in as nocturnal temperatures fall, but that doesn’t really affect us. I remember one morning in particular: it was a lovely morning and I awoke to the sight of sun streaming in through both of the room’s large windows. Ours is the centre one of the three beds that line the wall facing the windows which means that the summer mornings are most pleasant: winter ones are fine provided the day dawns clear.

All around me my sisters are also waking as the movement in the other beds testifies. Wendy’s hair blazes like fire in the light of the morning sun. I give her a shake but get nothing but a grumpy snort as a reply... My beloved is not a morning person!

When I leant over and stroked that gorgeous mane she just reacted by rolling herself up in the duvet and mumbling something that sounded vaguely like. “Gerroff. Rosie!”

Definitely not a morning person!

I have, however, never been a girl who is happy to take no for an answer: I’m from Yorkshire, remember? Everyone says “no” to us and we normally ignore them.

Even shaking her again has no effect other than a muffled repeat of. “Gerroff, Rosie!” Which is followed by an indignant snort from the former Air Force Officer who I am enamoured with.

I realise that my pussy is moistening and know that it will soon begin to leak: in other words, my darling’s behaviour is beginning to turn me on for despite the differences in our former ranks, she is the more submissive one—or rather is supposed to be. Telling me, her dom, to “Gerroff” is hardly fitting behaviour.

Helen, one of the four sisters with whom we share the room pads over, her bare feet silent because of the thick carpet. She leans over and shakes her head. “Why don’t you leave her be?”

Her bed-mate, Raksha has moved over and slipped an arm around her loving sister. The are quite a contrast: black hair against honey-blonde... Golden-brown skin against creamy white. Both girls show more than a hint of being gravid so life is going on. “Yes, why don’t you leave her be, Rosie, you are more than welcome to come play with us.” Raksha purred seductively.

I stare at the magnificent pair and am tempted, however I tear my eyes away and gaze down at grumpy Wendy once more... Something trickled down my leg and I knew that I want her right now! Luckily “no” is an answer that I don’t have to take for nest-sisters’ bodies belong to each other.

Our strap-on was on the little table at the side of our bed: we were going to use it last night but we were both too tired. It was lying there looking all lonely and forlorn with just the bottle of lube for company. I looked down at Wendy, who was dozing once more, and then across at the little table... My gaze strayed back to Wendy and stayed there even as I ambled across to the side of the bed and lifted the toy up off the table...

“Come on, lover,” I heard Raksha purr, “let’s head for the shower, we’ll have plenty of time to play some games in there. It’ll be ages until Rosie tires herself out.”

Helen giggled, grabbed Raksha’s hand and hauled her off to the bathroom: leaving Wendy ’n me all alone in the bedroom, or at least I thought we were.

I step into the strap-on harness and adjust it so that it is a comfortable fit: the cup at its base nestling over my mound and clitty. Then, after lubing up and doing a last minute adjustment I grabbed the duvet and pulled it off my beloved receiving a squeak of annoyance for my troubles. I rolled her onto her belly before pulling her up onto all-fours... God! She’s delectable—all plump, pink and inviting in the morning sunlight. I knelt down behind her and eased the dildo into her tight little arsehole.

“Whaaaa?” She squealed in surprise as she stiffened: she was fully awake by now but had yet to work out what was going on.

I grabbed her around the hips and thrust forward, entering her fully. There is another squeal followed by: “Ohhhh!” as she braced herself against me.

I eased back before pushing into her delectable arse once more and this became the sole purpose of our existence for some time... Push in hard... Pull out more slowly... Push in hard... Pull out more slowly... Push in hard... Pull out more slowly...

Wendy began to tremble after several wonderful minutes and I felt myself stiffen as an orgasm began to build: until, that is, something or rather, someone broke my rhythm. The first thing that I felt was something round being pushed against my own rosebud... Then a pair of strong arms grasped me around my waist and something was pushed into me and it was my turn to squeal as I too was penetrated by one or other of my sisters.

After a moment’s hesitation I eased into Wendy once more as I felt the unknown woman lovingly force herself into me: together, we set up a steady rhythm as she fucked me while I was fucking Wendy... or was Wendy being fucked by both of us at the same time?

I didn’t know but not only that, I didn’t care! The only thing that I did know was that it was a wonderful sensation and it only got more intense as our little threesome carried us over the top. Suddenly the orgasm slammed into us we all came more or less together before rolling over and collapsing in a tangled heap on the bed.

We lay there gasping for the best part of a minute before untangling ourselves.

“Wow!” Gasped Wendy.

“Wow!” Raksha gasped too, for it was she that had taken me.

“Fucking Hell!” I shrieked for having been in the middle I had received double the stimulation of the other two. “We’ve got to do that again.”

“Yeah! With me in the middle next time!” Raksha smirked.

I then helped Wendy to her feet and hand in hand we made our way into the shower and on to the start of the day proper. She was wide awake now, my beautiful red-headed darling: it seems that I have found away to successfully rouse her and to help her face the new day! The bright, warm morning sun had failed but a session of anal sex had done the trick. If she still isn’t a ‘morning person’ I’ll know how to motivate her in future!

The day moved on and morning flowed into afternoon as it always does. There were tasks to perform, decisions to make, sisters to consult with but all in all, life at the Manor House was gentle and peaceful: idyllic even, with plenty of time for love.

We had gravitated into task groups by now: us (former) soldiers tending to handle security—not that there was a lot that needed doing on that front—while another group dealt with house-keeping: both within the nest and around the holiday chalets that provided our nest with its income. A third group handled co-ordination: this group usually consisted of the four Elves plus my Wendy: they provided the leadership and direction that we all needed, without it we would drift into sexual chaos.

Then there was the fourth group who looked after and nursed our beloved queen and the infant riders: perhaps they were the most important of all for our future was in their capable hands.

Oh the groups were not exclusive... Sisters would move from group to group when tasks made this necessary and new groups would form on an ad hoc basis to carry out a specific task or tasks whenever needed: flexibility being the guiding principle. There were less than thirty of us at this time, I forget exactly how many there were but it doesn’t matter because there were barely enough of us to do everything that really needed doing and so the Control-Group was constantly having to prioritise tasks and also make sure that no sister was overworked during the normal course of things. Sometimes, if a task was urgent or even critical then the sister carrying it out might have to be directed to take a break for food or rest such was the determination of a ridden woman Sometimes it seemed as if “single-mindlessness” would be a more accurate label for sisters, once tasked, tended to be driven... And by sister, I refer to the combination of the woman and rider who really are the ultimate in team work!

But busy, or not, there always was time enough for love...

...And besides, the next generation of Riders, the first to be born here on Earth were now mature: when we found them suitable mounts things would be easier all-round.

Because I was experienced in running the business side of the estate my Elven sisters left me to to continue running this side of things. And while our nest did not have the expense of a wage bill we still needed a steady legal income to cover things like food, energy, transport and taxes. In the early days we had subsisted by what the wild humans would class as ‘Criminal Behaviour’ this soon had to cease, or at least be greatly toned down out of a need not to draw unwanted attention to ourselves.

Forsure we weren’t exactly legal, were we? And although no move had been made against us, we knew that the powers that be were searching for the location of our nest although they were unsure as to what action to take once they found it. While this uncertainty worked to our advantage, it could not be relied on to last indefinitely—hence our need for growth. Not only did our nest need to grow into something larger but we needed to establish new nests too... The greater our dispersal—the harder it would be to eradicate us.

We already had the start of a second nest in Westminster centred around the Ministry of Defence but this consisted of only a handful of sisters and could do little but feed us information... Still it was a step in the right direction and the start of our expansion.

Where the the security services watching us unbeknownst to our informants at the MoD? Well none of my sisters noticed any strangers paying unwanted attention to ourselves or our activities Rosie had said that this didn’t mean that we weren’t being watched.

When I had asked her what she meant she had just shrugged. “If they’ve deployed the SRR to keep tab on us we’d never know that they were there.”

“SRR?” I had asked as I was puzzled by that particular set of initials.

She shrugged. “SRR—the Special Reconnaissance Regiment—they’re an elite Army unit who specialise in, well, ’ special reconnaissance’. If some of their Operators are watching us then we’d never spot them.”

Somehow her remarks didn’t reassure us in the slightest

With this in mind we had decided to establish nests in several of the major cities win the UK. The Mother-Nest here in rural South Wales was afforded some protection by its isolation but this would only last as long as we were not judged to be a threat. A single nest could be captured by concerted military action or be eradicated by nuclear strike. Oh we did not delude ourselves that the latter action would not be contemplated... They would employ conventional action initially and if this didn’t work then the nuclear option would be considered and a low yield one kiloton, or smaller, warhead would be more than enough to obliterate us without producing any real collateral damage or even fallout.

And although they might just use a small weapon against a rural target there is no chance that similar action would be taken against nests deep inside several major cities. Hence the need for us to expand and spread!

We now had an increasing number of new riders available, the ones produced by myself and my sisters were becoming mature as well as the steady stream of already mature adults emerging from the body of our beloved Queen. Regardless of the numbers available we still had to be careful as to who it was that received the privilege of implantation. Tempting as it was to just grab women at random, we still had to be selective. Also, not all of the women that we blessed with Riders were destined to join our, or any other, nest immediately as some of them could better serve us by remaining in society at large: some at least for the short or middle term, others for much longer.

With this in mind I began to take a close look at the holidaymakers who rented out our chalets. Families with young children were completely ignored due to the potential complications that could result. Married couples were largely ignored due to similar problems. However same-sex female couples, honeymooners and single women were fair game. Honeymooners? Well yes! The shock some new wives experience in the light of their husband’s, er, ardour can be enough to cause them to discover their own homosexuality.

Let’s look at a typical pair of newly weds...

(Amanda)

I’d known Gary since before we started school, we’d grown up on the same housing estate: he was a couple of years older than me and our paths had often crossed. As we got older it seemed that things conspired to bring us together... The local Comp... Youth Club... Hanging around the streets, as kids tend to do... I got to known him and found that I was attracted to him. He was funny and talked to me without being a pest as other lads his age tended to be. Then as we got older I realised that he was quite good-looking with a mop of unruly brown hair: one thing led to another and we started going out together but we sort of drifted apart, as kids do.

Then, sometime after I left school I managed to get an office job with a local building firm and guess who I ran into in my second week there—Gary! He was a trainee carpenter with the same firm—funny how fate kept pushing us back together. We hit it off more or less straight away: we were both unattached without a significant other and so started going out together just like we had been a couple of years earlier.

What started out as casual soon became serious and before you know it, we were engaged and making plans for the future. We both had steady jobs with good prospects and so were well set up for the future. We set the date and got married when I was twenty-two: it took us till then to save enough for the deposit on a house.

I don’t know whose idea the honeymoon in South Wales was—it’s not exactly the first place to spring to mind when trying to plan a honeymoon, is it? Still the pictures of the Manor, its grounds and the chalets were really something and I guess that we sort of fell in love with the place and booked their ‘Honeymoon Package”. Booking was painless and was all done on-line, they even requested our photos so that we could receive our passes in advance, hows that for efficiency? They even contacted me through my laptop to check that the booking was exactly what we wanted. It was quite a long zoom call too, even though I didn’t remember much about it, I guess that I was far too excited.

(Meghan)

The honeymoon booking by the future Mr and Mrs Andrews was processed rapidly and their booking was confirmed: they were, after all, just what we were looking for—or rather, she was!

Blonde, quite attractive and with no real complications: not the sharpest pencil in the box, but we never seem to have enough sisters in the house-keeping role.

I emailed her with our induction package embedded in a presentation about the holiday centre which I know that she watched with ‘interest’ as her laptop told me so and gave me a good look at her by way of its built-in camera. She watched, wide-eyed and entranced, doing everything that the presentation told her to. She even removed her top and bra without hesitation and sat there so that I could get a good look at her assets: she was a slim girl so her C’s looked large.

I then asked her about her sexuality and yes, she thought that she was straight. She was also sexually inexperienced, despite some intimacy. They’d had sex a few times and had always taken precautions (no, she wasn’t pregnant) but had been put-off a little by Gary’s clumsiness and lack of skill. He hadn’t even managed to cause her to climax: not that that is unusual for young males! She was passive but still expected something more romantic than the enthusiastic, though overwhelming assault that he though of as love-making.

In normal circumstances they would adapt to each others needs: but I wasn’t going to allow ‘normal circumstances’ to prevail.

(Amanda)

The Honeymoon Experience was really romantic from the moment that we arrived there were flowers and scented candles provide: low lights, romantic music, and complimentary wine too. Everything was tasteful and showed a real feminine touch in the way that it all was tastefully arranged

The staff did everything in their power to make us feel welcome: there was also a buffet meal laid on for us when we arrived late in the afternoon even though the holiday was supposed to be ‘self-catering’. We even had our own chalet maid, a stunning red-head, who was just a phone call away—should we need anything.

We settled in and after the meal went for a walk around the grounds, through the woods and over to the lake, but really, we were just killing time. Then, hand-in-hand we ambled back to the chalet just as the spring sun was setting in a beautiful blaze of red and gold. I stared at it for several seconds.

“You alright?” Gary asked. “Only you seem a little spaced-out.”

“Hmm?” I replied. “I guess I’m just a bit overwhelmed by it all—it’s the most beautiful day in our lives, isn’t it?”

He nodded and slipped an arm around my shoulders and we kissed before, hand in hand, he led me into our chalet and straight into the bed room. The maid had turned down the lights and lit the candles... There was even a bottle of champagne sitting in an ice bucket over on the dressing table. Gary popped the cork and poured us a couple of glasses. Champagne was something special to me as I’d only tasted it a couple of times previously and this really did seem to be a big bottle.

We toasted each other and kissed again before getting changed for bed. I went into the bathroom to put my nightdress on, much to Gary’s surprise.

“I’m shy!” I said and then wondered why I’d said it as I wasn’t really.

When I got back he was wearing just a pair of pyjama trousers and drinking more of the champagne. He handed me another glass. “Happy?”

I nodded as I was... Well I thought that I aught to be but it was all a little overwhelming. Okay, so we had made love before but somehow, tonight seemed different, and I don’t mean in the newly-wed sense. I caught site of his hairy chest which seemed vaguely repulsive, as was the musky male-smell of his body. Something seemed different and wasn’t quite right...

I sat down on the edge of the bed and sipped my champagne feeling a little uneasy as I did so. The scented candles flickered warmly and the romantic music that was playing in the background seemed to be whispering to me. Suddenly I felt light headed—something was wrong.

Ah, well, I thought, wedding night nerves. It must be...

“Ready?” Gary said in a sort of anxious, impatient voice.

I nodded... Time to lie back and think of England...

We slipped under the covers and Garry sort of wriggled, no doubt getting rid of his pyjama trousers. I lay back and closed my eyes against a rising sense of dread. Definitely Wedding Night nerves! I told myself again.

I felt Gary move—he kissed me and I responded as best I could then I felt him clumsily squeeze my tit before he slipped a hand under my nightdress and fingered my pussy—no doubt the sum total of his foreplay!

Seconds ticked by and my light headedness increased, it must have been the wine and the champagne as I’m not much of a drinker. But wait... That music really was talking to me although what it was saying was a mystery.

Gary moved again and I felt some of his weight on top of me: I felt something hard rub against my thigh and suddenly everything seemed to freeze and he was a dead weight pressing down on top of me and I guess that I must have passed out...

(Meghan)

Well the flowers and low lights were just that: ambience for a memorable evening but the music contained subliminals aimed mainly at Amanda. The wine? Well that’s doped with a will suppressant to free them of inhibitions. The candles? They are soporific and hopefully will result in them falling asleep immediately after sex: or better yet, during it. Better? Well, yes, of course, better for us!

Okay, perhaps I should enlarge on these points for the sake of clarity... The mind-altering music, the special wine and candles are only provided if the bride is deemed worthy of our attention: if not then they get bog-standard supermarket products that are untreated. We don’t go after all of the women that book a chalet: not yet anyway and probably not ever. We need to be selective after all and go for quality not quantity. Besides, if every honeymooning bride dumped her husband on their wedding night it would look a mite suspicious, wouldn’t it?

Now back to Amanda and Gary: as they retired for a night for their night of passion they are observed via the hidden cameras in their honeymoon chalet. Then as soon as the candles worked their magic our recruiting specialist, the couple’s personal chalet maid (Wendy), moved in by way of the hidden entrance. She checked the newly weds and injected the male with something that will keep him out of things for several hours and ensure that he doesn’t wake up anytime soon.

The bride was also checked, she shouldn’t be under anything like as deeply as her new husband, if she wakes up then there is no harm done for her big night is just beginning.

(Amanda)

I seemed to be dreaming, or there was someone else in the room with us...

Gary’s weight was no longer pressing down on me. Has he finished? I wondered because, other than feeling woozy, nothing seemed to have happened yet here he was, lying next to me and snoring slightly. Did he really have sex with me while I was unconscious?

The person who I had dreamed was in the room with us moved quietly and was silhouetted against the light from the scented candles.

“Uh?” I grunted and struggled to sit up.

“Hush now, Amanda, darling.” It was a woman’s voice. Gentle but slightly husky. “Nothing to worry about, just lie back and let it all happen.”

And I did! I felt the covers being pulled back and then a hand grasped the hem of my nightdress and raised it but there was nothing to worry about, the lady had said so.

Something moved on the bed and something brushed gently against my pussy and my little clitty causing me to sigh. There was a pause and then a distinct cracking noise, a bit like a dry twig being snapped. There was another pause and then something large entered me. Gary! I thought. About time too.

Only it wasn’t! It was was soft and cold, not warm and firm and it sort of oozed into me giving me a vastly different experience to that produced by Gary’s mechanical pelvic thrusts. Suddenly I felt a brief stab of pain that was similar to what I’d felt when I’d lost my virginity but then it happened—I felt my whole body tense and I quivered as an orgasm hit me. Only thing was it was much more intense than the ones that I’d Jilled myself into and those were the only ones that I’d ever experienced as Gary, bless him, had never managed to give me one, if he’d even tried, that is!

I relaxed as a new feeling of warmth spread out from my tummy, or was it from my womb? I sighed and did as I had been told, I lay back and let things happen.

(Wendy)

In general terms, while the rider takes control and the new bride is instructed on how to behave over the course of the next few days. She will either go home after the honeymoon and end the marriage soon after or break it off here and now, demanding a divorce because she has suddenly discovered that she is a lesbian. But either way the marriage will end and we will gain a loving new sister. After things have been settled, she will either return to the nest or become a sleeper for us out in the wide world: it all depends upon exactly who she is, after all.

There are other possibilities that we need to address: a lesbian honeymoon will be easier to deal with and it will normally be to our advantage if the newly weds remain together—at least for a time! Female friends holidaying together will usually discover that they are madly in-love with each other and so will often move-in together soon after—normally remaining together, again at least for a time.

It is truly wonderful to watch a woman being reborn as the mount for her new rider, realising that she has entered into a relationship that is far more intimate than one between two human beings. Her rider does not think for her as riders themselves are non-sentient and cannot think—all of the thinking is done by the woman herself. However, be that as it may, the rider provides her with a whole new set of instincts and certainly influences just how she thinks which controls the way she reacts to the world in general. The new embedded instincts then serve to guide her through the rest of her very long life.

It was early February and the mood within our nest in South Wales was, to coin a phrase, ‘up-beat’! Things were at last going as planned: we were, as far as we could tell, still undetected by the authorities. Rosie and a couple of my other sisters who had served in the RAF Regiment were still paranoid regarding surveillance and so, with the Elves blessing, had taken to carrying out patrols of the surrounding area under the guise of ‘brisk walks in the country’ during which they would attempt to catch sight of anyone or anything out of the ordinary. Sure, this might seem like paranoia but remember, even if you are paranoid it doesn’t mean that nobody is out to get you.

As a former Air Force Officer myself, I appreciated the importance of just what my sisters were doing: no it wasn’t Paranoia, it was Security! Although as far as a civvy is concerned there is probably no difference. Actually, Rosie’s brisk county walks had another benefit: they made the girls a familiar sight around the neighbourhood which in turn helped make the Manor’s inhabitants accepted locally. The girls talked to the neighbours and soon we became another part of the local scene: in other words, we were blending in.

Some of us, myself included, became regulars at the local pubs and so were eventually able to ‘tune-in’ to the local gossip. As far as the locals were concerned: there were about a dozen of us living at the manor house, we all worked for Lady Gemima either on the estate or as part of her holiday business. This satisfied said locals, some of whom enquired as to why they hadn’t seen Her Ladyship out and about lately. I spun a tale about her being ‘unwell’ which seemed to satisfy them. But I made a mental note that Lady Gemima would need to make a recovery so that she could be seen in the nearby village.

Actually, although we let on that there were about a dozen of us living at the Manor, there were by now considerably more than that and plans were being made to start a new nest in Cardiff, some twelve miles away. Although the new Westminster nest in London was growing slowly, it was decided that a third one be established in Cardiff which would be close enough to mutually support the Manor House Nest. These developments obviously took careful planning and management—too rapid growth would obviously attract unwelcome attention. But if the growth was too slow then the new nest would not become self-supporting anytime soon.

The Westminster Nest was a nest in name only as it didn’t have its own queen or even a home base and wouldn’t for the foreseeable future. Its main purpose was to infiltrate the government and civil service, nothing more, nothing less: growth and self-sufficiency being secondary to its primary function. We already had established a presence in the MoD and, thanks to the Home Secretary, we had recently spread to the Home Office and potential new sisters were being identified within parliament, the government and civil service. Oh, the Westminster Nest would grow but in a controlled way so that it wouldn’t raise official suspicion.

It was early on in the month when both Rosy and myself were summoned to see the Elves. We received great news... There was a ship close by, a ship from one of their worlds bringing sisters and supplies!

(Sha’andrina—Journal Extract)

Alas, there were just the four of us now: seven of our sisters had perished in the devastating crash-landing and an eighth in the fire-fight with the English-Human soldiers. Forsure it came as a surprise when we originally learned that the population of this planet was divided into tribal blocks known as ‘Nations’. Surprising, yes, but it may make them easier to deal with.

Sadly, there are none other to blame but ourselves for the destruction of our landing ship and for the deaths. We had reconnoitred this world in detail a little over a century ago although it had been known about for a thousand or more of their years. We had scouted it several times during that millennium and observed steady progress at a predictable rate. The humans were intelligent, ingenious and very much like ourselves or rather they were very much like we used to be in the far-distant past of our prehistory. Early on, shortly after discovery, the decision was taken to study their biology in detail and to this end, small groups were abducted and used to establish settlements on an uninhabited continent on one of the planets that we were had Terraformed.

(Note 1: Yes, I know that this is not a wholly appropriate word as it means changing a world to become ‘Earth-like’ but as this Journal is being written to benefit future Human generations, then the word will suffice.)

The continent was seeded with Earth-evolved life and a basic ecosystem established to support the Human ‘Settlers’. They thrived and multiplied and the settlements prospered which allowed us to study them in biological detail. Then, over the course of centuries, a suitable rider was produced by selective breeding and genetic engineering of a small Terran animal. Once successful we knew that human females, too, would now be able to live normal lives.

When all was ready Earth was reconnoitred and preparations were made. Over the course of that millennium Humanity had advanced from a basic iron-craft level society to a machine-aged civilization and was deemed ripe for change. Oh they were warlike... This we had noted over the centuries and at the time of our detailed investigation they had just concluded another major planet-wide war, although fighting was still going on in places. They were, we also noted, exceedingly good at killing each other.

Oh woe, we should have paid more attention to this aspect of the behaviour but we didn’t as we ourselves had not been in conflict at anytime since we evolved our own symbiotic riders... This was a mistake... A very bad one!

Why did we seek to colonise Earth? Simple! Dry-land planets capable of supporting life are few and far between in the universe: most are water-worlds with oceans often hundreds of kilometres deep. Dry-land planets, when they are discovered, usually need to be terraformed: Earth being one that did not was a jewel without price. We had to have it because if we didn’t control the Terrans it wouldn’t be many centuries before they spread out to the stars and that could only lead to armed conflict between our two species. We needed the same type of planets after all.

No! In the interests of a peaceful future, we had to take control of them now while we still could... Or rather while we thought we could.

Our ship should have been unopposed... The Terrans only had primitive aircraft after all! Sure they had just fought a major war, our detailed survey noted this and logged the disastrous affects that it had had on the participating nations. Yet when our ship arrived less than a century later, it was detected by radio echo location, attacked and ultimately brought down by jet powered and rotary winged aircraft. How was this even possible?

Humans are not only vicious and combative but extremely resilient and inventive: that’s how! Not only had they recovered rapidly from a disastrous great war, but they apparently had fought another one in the interim and advanced technically until they were on the verge of spreading to the other planets in their star system. From the first wood and fabric aircraft to space travel within fifty years and on to other planets in another forty... It all beggared belief! Just what sort of planetary madhouse had we dropped ourselves into?

Still, this was about to change... A supply ship had entered the system and was due to land in Smilog woods close to nearby villages of Llantrisant and Pentyrch in the early hours of the twenty-sixth of February. Hopefully the ship will be running in stealth mode and be undetectable as far as the humans are concerned: I say hopefully as, although we can receive its transmissions, we cannot communicate with it other than by way of a beacon with a fixed modulation. A beacon only capable of transmitting a series of precoded ‘beeps’. The rest of our coms equipment being destroyed or lost in our original wrecked ship.

Wendy, Rose and myself are going to be on-site when the supply ship lands together with a body guard of military-trained sisters and hopefully nothing will go wrong...

I will remember that night for the rest of my life. We arrived in the vicinity in the late afternoon, settled down and waited. Sha’andrina monitored the receiver and replied to the ship’s crew in the only way that she could—by a series of predetermined ‘beeps’. But at least they knew that we were alive and waiting for them. I don’t know what the Elves on the ship were saying as I do not speak the language, but Sha’andrina did and was not altogether happy with what she heard.

It was just after midnight when I realised that something was wrong for, completely out of the blue, an RAF Tornado flew over the nearby forest at a very low altitude with its afterburners roaring loud enough to shake the ground. Sure I couldn’t see it, but I knew that noise alright—nothing sounds quite like a Tornado! It roared across the wood and was gone.

I turned to Sha’andrina who seemed to be frozen in shock.

Suddenly a bright red light burst out of nowhere as our Sister’s ship appeared and began it’s descent. This one wasn’t like the scout that had come down in Shropshire a couple of years ago... This one was big and sort of pyramid shaped and for a split second it seemed to hang there in the air. Then the Tornado was back: it screamed in and I saw the trails of air-to-air missiles. The aircraft wasn’t alone... There was a second... A third... A fourth... Each one firing missiles.

Suddenly the ship exploded. I later learned that the sound was loud enough to rattle the windows of a hospital some way away.

Then, ears ringing, Sha’andrina, Rosie and myself scrambled to get as far away from there as fast as we could in the time remaining—as we piled into our vehicle we heard the distinctive chatter of several helicopters: Apaches, by the sound of it. The powers that be were taking no chances!

(Sha’andrina)

Disaster!!! Even though our ship was running in stealth-mode the humans still destroyed it. The Pentyrch Incident is a indeed a day of infamy that will live long in our history should any of us survive to write it.

Our settlement on Dirt (as the Humans have charmingly christened their planet) has reached a critical node in it’s development. This was brought home to me as we approached Pentyrch Woods just as the vicious attack craft intercepted our ship.

As Rosie drove us away I still could not believe what had happened. Ashen-faced, I turned to Wendy and asked. “What happens now?”

“We carry on, Sister, just like before!” Her voice was grim as it came to me in the dark interior of our van. “We have been on our own since the first landing and have prospered. We are still on our own and will be for the foreseeable future so in effect there is nothing that has changed. We know that government is aware of our presence but according to our sisters in the Westminster Nest, are unaware of our numbers.”

I actually relaxed a little on hearing this: she was Human, after all, so had a deeper understanding of Human Beings than I ever can. “How come our sisters didn’t warn us of the attack?”

There was a pause. “Probably because it was an operational matter and involved only personnel at a higher level than theirs. I know the Home Secretary is one of us, but she may not have been in the loop, so to speak—the whole thing being an operational matter once it had been okayed by the Prime Minister.”

She slipped one of her strong arms around my shoulders and hugged me to her. She kissed my forehead in what she clearly thought was a comforting way before adding. “Nothing has changed, my darling, we were on our own yesterday and we are still on our own. We put this behind us and carry on in the same way as before—slow, measured growth. We make sure that we are not detected and we grow. Next—Cardiff. After that, who knows? But I suggest the fourth nest be established in a different country.”

I relaxed against her larger soft body and sighed contentedly... Strangely enough I genuinely felt better, especially after we made love in the back seat of the rocking, vibrating van.

Things will be just fine and everything will work out okay, I’m sure of it.