The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Nathan Freeman has been floating around within some sort of unexplainable dream for quite some time now; …half asleep and yet half awake …merely drifting along in a fog of peaceful tranquility. He’s uncertain of who he is or even where he’d been taken, but it sure feels nice being here. …Just totally lost. …No responsibilities. …No pressures. …Barely existing.

There’s no tangible sense of time in this new world either; one second might feel like a couple of minutes, while a few hours could seem like several months …Or was it years?

The boy can’t seem to tell.

And there’s this constant perception of some sort of alternate reality that’s just beyond his reach. Like a former life with beliefs and memories that should seem so vivid, yet they become mere fleeting moments whenever he tries to concentrate on any single one of them. And the more the boy struggles to make any sense of this, the more disconnected he becomes…

Nathan attempts a sigh, but it requires too much effort. It feels a whole lot better to simply be…

… And then a voice softly whispers from somewhere deep within his head:

-It’s time to awaken.

The tone of the voice is deep and smooth, yet identifiably feminine. It seems to be deeply rooted within his psyche and is as hauntingly familiar to him as it is unexplainable; like some relaxing foreign presence that seems to linger-on long after its words have been spoken.

Nathan feels a tingle at the back of his neck and attempts to open his eyes, only to find that they’re already open. His vision is blurry and his eyes burn as if they’ve already been open for far too long. The boy tries to raise his hands to rub the irritation away, but his limbs refuse to move. For whatever reason, his body seems to be experiencing a state of total paralysis. All he can do is just blink his eyes repeatedly, until his environment somewhat comes into focus. He begins to realize that everything around him is completely still. And there is this ashen, all-consuming glow that seems to encompass him and his surroundings. The presence within his head softly reminds him that he is safe and that this strange white glow is merely shelter from the outside world. Nathan squints his eyes in a sign of slight recognition...

The nothingness slowly gives way to the familiar walls of Rossville High, which now appear to be unnaturally pale in contrast to their usual vibrant school colors. Nathan tries to move his head around for a different view, but his neck remains fixed in place - just like the rest of him.

At this point, a figure steps forth from the misty-like surroundings. Judging by the build, the newcomer appears to be male. The rest of his features remain unidentifiable, due to the raised hood of his cloak and the brilliant light that surrounds him.

…Nathan attempts to speak out to the stranger, but his lips still refuse to move.

The stranger continues to approach the boy, gradually lowering his cowl to reveal a head of silvery hair. His facial features look old and weathered, like that of a man who’s seen and done many things in his life. There’s even a deep scar that creases the flesh of his left cheek.

A note of concern starts to show in Nathan’s eyes. It isn’t so much the scar that frightens him… but mostly the greenish, alien-like coloring of the stranger’s skin!

The extraterrestrial calmly greets, “Ah; …the ever-elusive Number 108. I’m so very glad that you can finally join us.”

…Number 108?

The boy’s concern deepens.

“You look scared,” the alien observed before going on to assure, “We are not here to harm you, so there is no reason to be afraid.”

The creature had clearly spoken in English, yet the tone of its voice seemed particularly odd; like it had some sort of synthetic quality, or maybe as if it had been digitally altered.

…Who …or what IS this creature?

As if somehow reading the boy’s mind, the alien proudly replies, “I am Captain Kiyar; lead commander of the Orion harvest vessel Chimera.” He then goes on to explain, “…Of the dozens of hybrids that we’ve planted world-wide, you are one of the chosen ones. It will be a great honor to serve your queen.”

…Hybrid? …Serve my queen?

The alien is standing so close that Nathan can actually feel the heat of its sour breath on his face. He’d surely puke if it was at all possible.

-You may now speak.

The soothing whisper activates another channel within Nathan’s mind. Like somebody releasing the mute button on a television remote, the boy suddenly has the faculty to speak. And of the dozens of questions swirling around in his head, he only manages to stutter, “B-but …I don’t understand!”

The alien advises, “It isn’t necessary for you to understand, dear boy …You only need to follow her orders and she will surely be pleased.”

“Who? …Follow what orders?”

Just then, an approaching soldier interrupts the conversation. Before Nathan can utter another word, the feminine voice penetrates his thoughts once again…

-Silence.

The boy immediately goes quiet.

…What in the hell is wrong with me?

As Nathan silently wrestles with his lack of self-control, a soldier steps-up within his direct line of vision. The boy can easily see that this newcomer is unmistakably female, due to her figure-hugging cat suit. There’s a dome-shaped helmet on her head that closely resembles a Bianchi by Gucci, but the tinted visor is down and covers most of her face. A lightsaber-like wand dangles from the utility belt that hangs around her curvy waist. Despite his current circumstances, the boy wishes he could see just a few inches lower to get a better view of her ass…

The soldier mentally reports:

-Captain; we’re showing a staff of 28 with a student population of 312. Primary scouting reports show that 49% are female. If only 3% of those females register within the .090 through .100 ranges, and another 7% are within the .070 through .089 ranges, we’re only looking at a 10% yield here.

Kiyar considers the envoy’s estimates and quickly does the math in his own head: …So; only 34 possible candidates out of 340? Not exactly the kind of numbers the queen is expecting for a mission of this magnitude.

-Poodoo.

The troubled captain briefly looks away and notices a soldier who is scanning an unmoving female that’s leaning over a drinking fountain. One of her arms is braced on the edge of the stainless steel structure, while the other is holding her auburn hair back over her shoulder. Now suspended in time, the girl appears to be lapping at a glass arch, rather than drinking from a stream of water. The soldier behind her makes one last pass over the curves of her bent posterior before reading the results on his scanner. A nod of the helmet to a nearby comrade suggests that this one’s a keeper.

Kiyar turns back to his cute subordinate and mentally advises:

-Lieutenant Commander; I would never suggest that you “fix” the numbers, (winking). The queen’s orders are to condition them in the conversion booths and return them as they were for now. A high school with ten percent of its female population missing will surely raise suspicions and we can’t afford the risk. We can always use the signal to summon them to the ship later on.

The soldier gives a knowing look and a quick nod in understanding:

-Then I’ll see to it that they locate the school’s interior communications system, Sir.

-Very well, soldier. Now get to it!

The subordinate gives him quick salute. The captain acknowledges the gesture before returning his attention to the human male before him…

-Reanimate.

The feminine voice rings true in Nathan’s head. The constricting hold on the boy’s frame suddenly loosens and falls away, much like a skydiver free-falling from the side of a plane. The boy begins to move his head, arms and then torso around, (doing so with caution).

Nathan slowly turns his head to the right and looks through an opened classroom door. He recognizes one of his teachers - Mrs. Sánchez - now leaning over her desk in front of a class. The dark skinned Latina is older, (quite possibly in her forth decade), but she always manages to keep up her attractive appearance. Known for her provocatively short dresses, the overly casual Spanish teacher would often sit on the edge of her desk with one long hosiery-sheathed leg crossed over the other at the knees. Sometimes she’d even dangle one of her mules from the tip of her toe rather absent mindedly. She might be inclined to think that her captivated male students were merely hanging on her every word, but in truth: those spellbound boys were simply hoping for a glimpse of her panties, as she casually crosses and then uncrosses her shapely legs. The delightful reward would be the occasional flashes of white, black or the even rarer glimpses of lacey red. …But now Maria Sánchez stands silent; her two cantaloupe-sized breasts bulging out against her cardigan sweater and with her head tilted downward as if she were some deactivated fembot. The way the teacher stares idly through her desk top, it almost seems as if she’s patiently waiting for further instructions, rather than giving them out to her equally enthralled students...

A soldier suddenly appears out of nowhere and waves one of the wand-like tools through Mrs. Sánchez’s line of vision. The alien directs the bright strobe between her braced arms and passes the wand over the rise of her breasts. A short moment later, he’s scanning over her bent backside and then down over the lengths of her curvy legs. All the while, the teacher stares blindly downward, seemingly unaffected by the stranger’s indecent appraisal…

Nathan turns his attention to where a similar evaluation is taking place down the hall. Two more soldiers are scanning a pair of sweethearts in a corner. The embracing couple had been so caught up with their passionate kissing that they failed to even see the approaching light wave. Now they stand together completely motionless; their impromptu tableau serving as a precise representation of their undying love for one another…

Nathan slowly pans over to his left and a gasp escapes from his lips.

…Willow (!)

…And the alien seems to read Nathan’s mind once again.

“This human female with the brilliant red mane; …she is a friend of yours, no?”

…Nathan swallows hard in his throat, his mouth still dry from being left open for so long.

“Yes,” the boy croaked, “…She certainly is.”

Only now did Nathan sense the pressure within his palm. He glances downward to see Willow still clutching his hand within her own rigid fingers, as if sharing some desperate lifeline with the animated world. He notices the coolness of her grip and quickly releases it, leaving her hand to hang in mid-air quite eerily...

Kiyar studies the female’s facial structure for a moment, slowly raising a green hand to the side of her face. The alien strokes the roundness of her cheek, taking time to appreciate just how soft and smooth her skin feels against his leathery fingers. Willow doesn’t react to the contact, but simply stares ahead with glassy indifference…

“This humanoid is quite exceptional,” Kiyar observed, “…From her handsomely sculpted features down to her porcelain-like skin.”

Still distracted by Willows transformation, Nathan absently nods his head in agreement. The motionless beauty truly does resemble a marble statue …An overly realistic sculpture that was somehow granted with life, only to have it taken away again…

“The red mane is a bit of a rarity among your people,” Kiyar commented before grasping an errant lock of Willow’s hair. The alien begins to rub it in between his fingers and cracks a smile that reeks of guilty pleasure. He goes-on to add, “…Quite a lucky find for a boy your age.”

Nathan finally admits, “Yes; I do feel lucky.”

The alien pries, “Have you reproduced with her?”

Nathan seems to snap out of his reverie and says, “Oh gosh no! …I mean I just met her today and—”

“…But suppose you could.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“What if you had the power to control a female like this? …What if you could make her submit to your every desire?”

Nathan makes a confused face and murmurs, “Yeah; …as if.”

…Just then, an audible click from the P.A. system echoes throughout the school. There’s a bit of feedback, as if the person (or thing?) is standing too close to the microphone. There’s some brief discussion in the background before someone finally addresses:

“Attention all students and faculty members: …There is no need for alarm, as we mean you no harm.”

…The tone of the voice was deep and rich, yet unmistakably female. It’s one of those sultry voices that sound slick with brandy and primed for a cigarette …A voice which, once heard, could never be forgotten.

“…As you hear these following words, let them resonate deep within your mind: …We have assumed control.”

“You now belong to the collective …You will be assimilated …You will obey.”

“The time has come to accept your pre-chosen destiny … A destiny to serve the almighty queen.”

“You will report to the gymnasium in a calm, but orderly fashion. Upon arrival, you will be sorted out by physical rank and then assimilated with your fellow brothers and sisters.”

“You now belong to the collective …You will be assimilated …You will proceed as directed.

“We have assumed control …You will obey.”

Within a short moment, metal chair legs can be heard scraping across tiled floors, as dazed students begin to rise from unseen desks. Just a few seconds later, those pupils and faculty alike begin filing out of classroom doors; at first one by one, and then streaming out continuously. In mock fire-drill fashion, they walk zombie-like down the hall, seemingly indifferent to their fellow peers all around them.

Nathan had heard the initial broadcast himself. He wants to turn and fall in line with his peers, but something inside his head is telling him to stay put. The aliens would have different plans for him…

As the announcement continuously re-loops through the PA system, Nathan’s eyes scan his fellow students. He studies their slack postures, emotionless faces and their glazed eyes, as they dazedly flow out and around him. Some of their mouths hang slack, while others seem to be murmuring or just mouthing the commands that ring out from the speakers above their heads. And although he senses their apparent helplessness, he doesn’t feel sorry for them. Something deep down inside has conveyed to him that the captives are simply fulfilling the queen’s wishes. He rather admires them— not only for their ability to conform, but also for their readiness to give themselves to the greater cause—something he would proudly do in a heartbeat.

As the students continue to stream past, Nathan spots his cute neighbor from down the street. Shawn Nicholson stares straight ahead, with her hands now lazily brushing against her thighs. Shuffling along directly behind her is his Spanish teacher; Mrs. Sánchez. She also walks trance-like and without the slightest sense of what’s going on all around her. Both women blend in with the seemingly unending flow of people as they continue to be summoned to the gymnasium.

Nathan slowly turns to see that Willow has just reanimated. The girl slowly rotates around 180 degrees as if she’s on a revolving dais. She sleepily murmurs, “Must –report –to gymnasium. …Must –be –assimilated. …Will –proceed –as expected…”

“But wait”…Nathan requests before reaching for the girl’s forearm. But the young woman slides away from his grip. He calls once again, “…Please wait.” …But his appeal seems to fall on deaf ears; Willow steps into the on-going flow of people and shuffles away. Her brilliant red locks simply fade into the crowd after a while.

“She can’t hear you,” Kiyar advised in a gentle voice. He places a comforting hand on Nathan’s shoulder and goes on to add, “…None of them can.”

…The boy nods halfheartedly in return.

As the last few students file out of the surrounding classrooms, a thousand questions swirl within Nathan’s confused mind. He finally finds the words to ask, “Why are they being taken to the gym? …What are you going to do to them?”

Kiyar explains, “Humans live each day of their boring and pointless lives in isolation — with few of them even questioning their very existence. Yet they live with this false sense of hope and security, each one walking in their own uprightness —and are quite satisfied to do so. Most seem completely oblivious to a race or existence beyond Earth’s atmosphere. But with the proper instruction, these same humans can be relieved of this senselessness. We will provide the direction and they will serve a greater sense of purpose in their daily lives. We’ve converted several species across the galaxy already —some even similar to your fellow Earth-bound humans. And like those species, we will assimilate the human race by modifying and then integrating your biological distinctiveness into our own collective. We will achieve this goal with our advanced technology, and through forced assimilation –a process that will transform and simultaneously control each human individual. And once they are linked to the collective, they will think as a whole and they will live to serve the queen.”

…Live only to serve the queen. Nathan had heard this phrase used quite a few times already. His classmates and teachers are on their way to undergo their preparations to serve the queen. Now the boy is beginning to wonder what part he will play in all of this...

Kiyar reads the boy’s mind and advises, “You will surely know when you are called upon by the queen, my boy. And once you have, you shall never resist.”

…Nathan looks up at the creature with a sense of hope.

The captain rubs the boy’s shoulders once again in a sign of reassurance. “Now let’s go watch the preparations…”

The walk from the second floor hallway to the gymnasium is a peculiar one. Nathan feels more than a little “off center” in his own body …almost as if he were drunk or under the influence of a strong prescription medication. The concrete steps that connect the second floor mezzanine to the first floor lobby are particularly difficult to descend. Nate has bolted up and down these stairs on a daily basis for the past three years. But now, each step downward appears to be carefully measured, with each transition seeming to pass by in a total blur. And all the while, there is this bizarre sensation of feeling completely relaxed and being totally out of his mind - but in a very calm way.

Nathan wobbles a bit as he reaches the surface of the lobby floor, but Kiyar is there to steady him. As the pair head down the corridor that leads to the gymnasium, the alien advises, “It may take a moment for the implant to draw your natural walking pattern in sync with its control processes.”

Before Nathan has a chance to even consider the comment, he feels another tingle pass through from his neck through his spine. There’s suddenly involuntary movement of his limbs; first his shoulders square up as his back straightens. There’s a slight rise of his chin and even his footsteps become firmer and more deliberate. It seems as if some unseen force has taken control of his body and is now guiding the way...

-I will lead you.

The velvety whisper slips into the boy’s consciousness once again, leading him forward and giving new meaning to his trials.

Up ahead, two burly soldiers stand guard at the entrance of the gymnasium. Their posture is stiff and their demeanor is stern, as they guide the last few straggling students inside.

“Males to the left, females to the right,” one of them orders. The alien’s voice is strict and he sounds unsympathetic to whatever atrocities that might be taking place beyond. When Nathan finally reaches the entrance himself, the two guards salute their captain beside him. The one that had been ordering students to the left and right flashes a condescending sneer behind his mask before letting the boy through.

Inside the gym, even more of these green-skinned soldiers stand guard. In braced stances and with weapons raised, they survey the proceedings with extreme caution. As the brilliant light continues to stream down through the skylights above them, it creates brilliant reflections off of their lowered black visors. The results make them look even more sinister and inhuman than they already are.

Just past the watchful guards stand several groups of technicians dressed in white lab coats and wearing wrap-around shades. A few are sorting out the incoming arrivals, while several more are gathered around seven stand-alone structures that resemble airport body scanners. Two separate lines of women have already formed behind each of the metal archways. As one person passes through the other end of the scanner, the line moves another position ahead…

Nathan pauses to watch, as the next female student is carefully guided beneath and placed between the supports of the full body scanner. The technicians take a step back as a white fluorescent tube begins its slow descent from the top of the archway. The light begins to flicker like a strobe as it passes over the girl’s expressionless face, growing in brilliance as it passes over her chest and hips. At the same time, a second tube of light is already ascending from the bottom upward. It too grows in brilliance as it passes over the protruding humps of the girl’s backside. Another technician is flanking the nine foot tall structure. She studies the twenty-two inch monitor that’s mounted via hinge to one of the sturdy uprights. Red digital numbers scroll higher and higher with lightning speed, much like a counter at the Wall Street stock exchange. Once these numbers have slowed to a gradual stop, the technician then records the scores into a hand-held scanning device. Said operator briefly reviews the calculated results before turning to a nearby co-worker to mentally direct: -91.8 —Row 2.

Awaiting technicians quickly whisk the girl away, adding her to a line of bedazzled women whom all stand silent beside a fixed tripod. On the stand is a placard that’s labeled “Row 2” in bold print. Back beyond the scanner, another female is guided beneath the archway to take the former girl’s place. Once the unsuspecting subject is placed into the proper “hands at side, chest thrust outward and standing upright in the most accurate scanning position” pose, the tubes of light begin the assessment process all over again...

Nathan moves on past the scanner area and looks to the far left of the gym, where he sees male faculty members and students alike, being herded like beef cattle into several long lines. Waiting technicians accept the first in each line and guide them into a set of what look like Plexiglas booths. Nate turns again and looks back to his right, glancing over several similarly long lines that are filling up with only females. He sees many of the thick or so-called “full-figured” gals from his school in the nearest assemblage —a group that includes the likes of old Mrs. Harper. The Social Studies teacher is a particularly buxom lady, who appears to be somewhere in her sixties and walks with a slight limp. Her plump hindquarters always seem to stretch her crisp, ankle-length skirts to their outer-most limits. The teacher stands with her hands at her sides and stares complacently into the back of the head of one of the portly students in front of her...

Nathan observes the next line, which is nearly doubled in length. The females in this one range from voluptuous to slightly overweight. Line three beyond them is filling up with average-looking girls that are skinny in build and range from tall to petite. The boy walks onward to row two, where many of the prettier girls from his school have formed another line. It is here that he recognizes several of his own classmates, as well as Shawn Nichols - his cute neighbor from down the street. The young woman stands with her hands at her sides; her glazed eyes staring off at some unknown point in the distance. The expression on her face looks reflective and dream-like...

“Shawn,” the boy murmured.

Nathan steps up right beside her, but his neighbor’s faraway stare remains trained ahead. He waves a hand through Shawn’s line of sight, vying for her undivided attention. Yet the girl still shows no reaction to his presence, (there’s not even a blink of her pretty brown eyes). Her thoughts are obviously elsewhere and there is something just a little unnerving about her unbroken silence.

Somewhat discouraged, Nathan glances over Shawn’s shoulder and takes a few steps further to attempt to awaken the tall blonde that stands directly behind her. The boy grips the senior’s arm and shakes it, attempting to awaken her from her opened-eyed slumber, but those efforts are just as futile…

Kiyar soon appears within the boy’s peripheral vision. The alien studies the dazed young blonde before them, before giving a satisfied nod at the results. He goes on to reiterate, “Like I told you earlier: they can’t hear you.”

Not wanting to be discouraged, the boy steps through the senior’s line of vision to discover the furthest and last column. “Row 1” is the shortest of them all, but it contains only the hottest of Rossville’s female population: cheerleaders; divas; jockettes; preppy chicks; even toned-up and deeply-tanned farm girls —the absolute “crème de la crème” of feminine pulchritude have been sorted here. All stand glassy-eyed and at attention; each staring through the back of the head of the beauty before her.

Nathan scans the entire length of the line, fully expecting to see his beautiful Willow. He ends up spotting Marcie Freeman and Julie Lane instead. Jennifer Fox also waits her turn in line just before them…

Nathan walks up and briefly studies Jennifer’s expression, which remains vapid, like so many others around her...

“They all look they’re in some sort of dreamland,” the boy observed out loud.

Kiyar turns and advises, “Yes …in this entranced state, it is much easier to indoctrinate them. Each one has already been scanned and classified by size, beauty and desirability. With their comeliness scores recorded, they can now be cataloged and then processed for assimilation. ”

…Assimilation. There was that word again.

The alien steers Nathan forward and the pair walk slowly along the line of beautiful, bewitched young women. They stand in profile, their eyes still half-lidded and glassy, each one staring listlessly through the classmate before her. They eventually reach the head of the line and come upon an attractive brunette who is rather petite in stature but pleasingly curvaceous. A recent college graduate with a Master’s in educational psychology; Ms. Portman is known more for her short skirts and smooth legs than her counseling abilities. She’s facing forward just like the others, but her eyelids are slowly blinking. The young therapist appears to be coming out of her trance and is mouthing some inaudible words just beneath her breath...

Nathan slows his pace in an effort to try and hear what the woman is saying. “Ms. Portman?” he asks while waving a hand, “…can you hear me?”

The bewildered therapist continues to lid her eyes while dazedly murmuring, “Must …re-sissst …Can’t …break free…”

A technician arrives to take the woman by the arm. As she leads the woman forward, Kiyar instructs, “That one is a code 3 and she’s struggling; don’t be afraid to turn it up.”

The captain then turns to Nathan and recommends, “I’m sure you’d like to see this.”

The boy edges ahead, watching attentively as a technician opens the door to one of the Plexiglas tubes. A newly converted student slowly steps down from the enclosure, her ears now covered with two silvery pods. As the pulse of her earpieces guide the girl away, another technician quickly steps into view. This alien is a little more arrogant and far more impatient than the others. He seizes Ms. Portman by the arm and gives her a harsh yank forward. As the counselor stumbles toward the platform inside, she continues to murmur, “But I-I’ve done nothing wrong…”

Ms. Portman starts to challenge her handler by dragging her thick-heeled mules across the surface of the platform. The pitiless alien abruptly lifts, and then swings the woman around 180 degrees, before shoving her inside the conversion tube. Within seconds the counselor’s arms and legs are forcefully strapped into place and a synchronizer cap is quickly lowered over her head. The woman begins wriggling about and struggling against her restraints in defiance. But once the door is locked in place and the equipment starts powering-up, there’s no turning back. There’s a sudden winding noise like that of a powerful turbine coming up to speed. Numerous electronic bleeps and bloops confirm that everything is in working order.

A terrified Ms. Portman continues to thrash against her restraints with more urgency than before. With her head locked forward within the unforgiving embrace of her crown, the woman’s eyes start darting all about, looking for somebody —make that anybody to free her. And even now, within the glass confines of her tube, the counselor can still hear the ascending whine of the equipment reaching a fevered pitch…

And that’s when the first wave hits.

BRRRRRVVRRRBBBMMVVRRBB!

—Ms. Portman bolts upright within her restraints and there’s a look of shock now showing on her face. A quick ripple of energy has just traveled from her head to her toes. She has no way of knowing that this first jolt is simply meant to grab her attention…

Wave number two hits twice as hard.

BRRRRRVVRRRBBBMMVVRRBB!

—Ms. Portman stiffens again and her eyes go wide in terror. Her manicured toes curl within her polished black mules, while her splayed fingers extend outward to their fullest lengths. This time, the counselor can feel an enormous amount of energy flowing through her body. It starts with a flash within her brain and quickly grows into a mind-numbing wave. This pleasurable sensation descends from her head and flows outward and beyond; streaming out over her arms and down over her breasts. The powerful surge continues its plunge; some of it pooling around her tingling pudenda while the rest sweeps over her braced legs. The woman feels a heightened state of sensitivity and she struggles to fight the urge to…

…Oh god no! …Not now! …Not here in front of all these strangers!

The swell immediately subsides, as if it were somehow able to read her mind. It leaves the young woman on the outer-most cusp of an orgasm. The tension in her body releases and her head drops toward her heaving chest. It seems that whatever this force may be, it’s just toying around with her now; simply egging her on to test her resolve and pushing her to the limit. The counselor barely has time to consider anything more when the third wave hits without warning.

BRRRRRVVRRRBBBMMVVRRBB!

This third wave is far more powerful and even more effective than the last. Ms. Portman’s body is besieged with energy and her reward is instant —a current of white heat shoots from her clit to her brain and everything within her mind explodes with brilliance. She snaps forward within her restraints at once —fists clenching, neck straining, her toes now pointing in ecstasy. As her hips buck in reaction, the psychiatrist desperately cries out, “Uh! …Oh! …Ohhh! …Oh pleeeease no!”

BRRRRRVVRRRBBBMMVVRRBB!

Wave four is like a depth charge to the brain and is truly unbearable; Ms. Portman feels as if she’s getting pulled beneath the ocean and her brain is being sucked out with the undertow. Her convulsions of pleasure are more intense than before, and by the time they eventually subside; the woman is left physically and emotionally drained. She thinks she might have let out a whimper in pleasure at some point, but she really can’t be sure. It’s becoming a major struggle to hold onto her thoughts at this point, and they’re slipping away fast like silt through her fingers...

There’s a momentary pause. But then, off in the murky distance, the counselor can feel the vibrations from the evil machine powering up again. With every last bit of strength that the woman can muster, she somehow manages to cry out, “Oh God! …Please …I beg of you! …NO MOR—”

BRRRRRVVRRRBBBMMVVRRBB!

Ms. Portman is cut-off in mid-word as her face locks into a silent scream. Her back arches hard beneath the overwhelming force, while her eyes roll back into their lids. Wave after pleasurable wave crash through the counselor’s body, and unlike the previous orgasm —this one never seems to ebb. The mind-blowing vibrations continue to pulsate up and down her frame, relaxing every muscle while numbing her weeping pussy. As the contractions subside, the spent counselor starts to sag within her restraints.

BRRRRRVVRRRBBBMMVVRRB!

The defeated therapist jerks in place only once this time, and as this sixth wave takes hold; the orgasms are so concentrated that they push her into a near Tantric state. Her eyes finally roll downward and she simply stares off into the distance without considering a thought or even uttering a sound. In fact; the only signs that she’s still alive are the involuntary twitches from her wrists and the intermittent spasms from her thighs...

Nathan continues to look up at the chamber in awe and somehow finds the words to ask, “Did she just …I mean did she just do what I think she did?”

“Oh yes …Multiple times in fact.”

Ms. Portman stands stiffly at attention inside her cell; mouth slightly agape; glazed eyes staring off dreamily; and with her hands still clenched into two solid fists. An occasional shudder flows through her body like a ripple in a pond, gradually loosening the grip of her hands so that they hang loose at her sides…

There’s a sudden click and a voice softly whispers inside her head: -This shall be your reward.

…The voice sounded feminine and sugary sweet. …Maybe even a bit infectious.

A gentle sigh of contentment slips from Ms. Portman’s lips.

…Yes; a reward …I do believe I’d like that.

-You will serve the collective and your reward shall be pleasure.

With whatever capacity she has left, Ms. Portman takes the time to consider those words. They seem to ring truer in her educated head with every agonizing tremor…

The heavenly voice softly repeats: -You will serve the collective …Your reward shall be pleasure.

…Yesss …I will serve the collective and my reward shall be pleasure.

-You will serve, honor and obey without question.

…I will serve, honor and obey without quesss-tion.

The poor woman is on cloud nine now, resonating from head to toe as if she were a stringed instrument producing a beautiful chord. Her serene expression never changes as she floats along in the afterglow.

From the outside, Nathan continues to look on, completely mesmerized by Ms. Portman’s transformation. And even as he admires his counselor, he unknowingly witnesses her final surrender. As the woman relaxes within her restraints, the last of her free will fades off like an early morning fog...

That’s when two robotic arms swing out from behind her head to clamp themselves over her ears.

CLUMP!

…First come the bore worms; these larvae-like creatures wiggle and squirm about from the two shimmery metallic clots on the inside surface of the earbuds. Forever seeking the warmth of a suitable host, they stretch outward in the direction of the nearest heat source. Once a convenient orifice is located, they begin to tunnel their way in, slowly expanding and contracting until they’ve stretched well into the cavity, (in this case – the victim’s ear canal). Once it reaches the upper spine, it splinters itself out into numerous tentacles. These tapeworm-like appendages quickly spread throughout the brain tissue, effectively polluting the host and leaving them in a highly suggestable state. The subject unwittingly becomes the puppet; the bore-worm it’s puppeteer.

The aliens’ mind-bending technology will handle the rest. A sequencer pulls the woman’s mind into sync; the programmed directions resounding in her head in an endless loop. Even though her lips are parted, the teacher doesn’t utter a single word throughout the entire process. The only sound is that of a high-speed hum as any useful information is ripped from her mind and added to the mother ship’s database. In exchange, any necessary information needed to complete her tasks is then uploaded into her fresh memory bank…

…The robotic arms remain there for a moment before swinging back and locking into their original flat position. A newly minted set of Entranz receivers now cover the counselor’s ears.

-Now go and serve the collective…

A small indicator light on the side of one the pods changes from flashing red to a steady green in finality…

Nathan blurts out a, “Whoa!”

The counselor’s restraints unlock and fall away and the Plexiglas door opens with a hiss. Ms. Portman calmly steps out of her booth, makes a sharp right turn and then walks off the platform to join the other converts. Another victim brushes past Nathan’s shoulder and takes her place inside…

A female voice that sounds stern and demanding suddenly rings out from within Kiyar’s receivers:

-Have you located 108, captain?

…Kiyar mentally advises, -We have indeed, Your Highness.

-Very good, captain. And has the subject been updated yet?

-Yes he has.

-Excellent! …See to it that he’s integrated back into the student body before you leave.

-And shall the subject be fully aware of all that has happened here?

-No! I want 108 left unaware just as he was. He will be put to the test soon enough.

-Very well, Your Highness.

Kiyar turns to the human just in time to see his face go blank. His head drops to his chest and he stands in silence once more. The captain gently rubs Nathan on the shoulder and murmurs, “You’re wish to serve the queen will come soon, my boy …Very, very soon.”

Kiyar turns away from Nathan, who’s already slipped away into a peaceful slumber. He surveys the busy scene all around him as technicians continue to handle the unsuspecting humans with haste. In less than seven hours’ time, all will be processed and assimilated. Once this treatment is complete, the aliens will pack up their equipment and leave the school behind just as it was. And once they are gone, the faculty and students of Rossville High will collectively awaken from their frozen trances; some standing in front of classrooms with a piece of chalk in hand and raised to a blackboard, while so many others remain patiently seated at desks, all seemingly unaware of their prior state. They will not recall the green-skinned aliens or their massive ship, nor will they be suspicious of the sleek little pods that now cover their ears. They won’t even question their constant underlying state of arousal. No; daily life will carry-on just as usual for them. It will be a life now void of popularity and peer pressure, in exchange for a life of commitment and working towards a common purpose; to think as one as they serve the collective…