The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“The hell with this,” Kristy said. “I’m going home.”

Alex winced, and rubbed at the bridge of her nose.

“Look,” she said, “I don’t think...”

“That’s just it,” Kristy said, cutting in. She pivoted on the wooden floor. “You don’t. You don’t believe me. I’m telling you, Carrie and Priscilla came in last night and as much as told me they were lesbians.” She made an angry pout, and jabbed a finger at Alex. “Carrie.” Jab. “And Priscilla.”

Alex, sitting in one of the chairs in the sorority’s study room, just sighed.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Kristy said, “but I don’t like it. It’s not natural. It scares me. I don’t want to wake up and discover that I’ve been turned into some sort of... rug-muncher!”

She pointed her finger at Alex again. ”You are the house president. You find out what the hell’s going on, and stop it. Because if anything else goes wrong around here, I’m leaving. Leaving the house, and leaving the sorority.”

“Kristy...” Alex said weakly. She couldn’t make any headway in the face of the blonde girl’s anger. Anger fueled by fear.

“I’m not a dyke,” Kristy said. “And I’m not becoming one. Whatever the fuck happened to Priscilla, and Carrie, and Anya and Elisa is not fucking happening to me. I’m keeping my door locked, and I advise you to do the same. And if you don’t figure out what the fuck is going on, I’m out of here. Got it?”

Alex sighed. “I’ve got it,” she said. “I’ll find out what’s going on.”

“You damn well better,” Kristy said, pausing in the doorway. “Because otherwise you’re going to wind up just like them.”

The Dodge rumbled into the driveway, then turned off. Its headlights faded and died.

Behind the wheel, Sandy rubbed her eyes, and sighed. She shouldn’t have gone out, she knew. She had a test tomorrow, in Prof. Arundsen’s biometrics class. And he didn’t grade on the curve.

But the waves had been too tasty to miss.

Unfortunately, they’d also been in Ventura. So it was—she looked at her diver’s watch—after midnight, and she was just getting home.

She sighed again, and stepped out of the car.

Why had she majored in bio? Sure, she was good at it, but if she’d taken Accounting the course load would be so much easier. Then she could get a nice CPA job somewhere near the beach, pay the rent, and work a thirty-hour week. Why the hell did she pick bio?

Stupid parents.

Yawning, she slid the board out of the back, leaned it on the side of the truck, and shut the tailgate. The house was dark, except for the downstairs lights they always left on, and one or two of the upstairs windows. Looked like... Carrie’s window, and Kathryn. Kathryn had probably just left her light on—she never slept at home these days. Spending all her time with that stud boyfriend of hers.

Wincing, Sandy plucked at her crotch.

As if getting home so late wasn’t bad enough, some son-of-a-bitch had broken into her car and stolen her clothes. Sure, she’d left it unlocked, but there hadn’t been anything inside worth stealing. Well, that’s what she’d thought. Some undie-sniffing pervert apparently disagreed with her. Not only had whoever it was taken all of her clothes, they’d even stolen the towel from the vinyl seat.

So it was drive home in her bikini, burning her ass on the hot vinyl, or drive home in her clinging wetsuit. She’d decided on the wetsuit—when you took off the suit, the wedgies went away, but seat burns stuck around.

She plucked at her armpits, and hefted the board under her arm.

In ten minutes, she’d be out of the damn thing. God, that would feel good. It was a great wetsuit—high-end Body Glove—but it just wasn’t meant for driving in.

She walked up onto the porch.

A quick shower, a hot coffee, and a few hours of cramming. The test was at eleven; she’d been to most of the classes. She did a quick count in her head. Yeah, most of them. She should do okay.

As she stepped onto the porch, she remembered that she was supposed to store her board in the shed. Right. Another minute before she could get out of her wetsuit. Sighing, she turned and descended the stairs.

The shed was a pretty standard garden shed, maybe six feet tall. Having been built a few days ago, it was still clean and new. They’d put a combination lock on it. It was Becky’s witty idea to make the combination 36-24-36.

But the lock was already open.

Sandy looked at it for a minute, then shrugged. Jane or Elisa must have left it open. Only the three of them used it. She slid the door open, then squinted as the tiny overhead light flicked on.

There were three girls standing in the little shed. They smiled at Sandy.

“Uh...” Sandy managed. “Hi?”

“Hi Sandy!” Priscilla chirped.

“Welcome home,” Anya added.

“We’ve got something for you,” Carrie said, smiling.

The three of them stepped forward, and Sandy took an instinctive step back. There was something strange in their eyes, a glitter that wasn’t usually there. Or was she imagining it?

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“We want to show you something,” Priscilla said, walking up on her left.

“It’s wonnn-derful,” Carrie said, stepping forward on her right.

They were holding turkey basters.

Sandy stared at them, head whipping from one side to the other. “Is this some sort of prank?” she asked. “I’ve got a test tomorrow, I don’t have time...”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Anya said. She was holding a bucket of water. “This will only take a minute.”

Carrie and Priscilla were grabbing at her now, wielding their turkey basters like they meant to poke her. The basters were dripping water.

“Look,” Sandy said, “knock it off. Hazing is for pledges.”

“We just want to see—” Carrie said.

“—how watertight your suit is,” Priscilla finished.

Each of them had an arm. Sandy was carrying her board under her right arm, so Carrie let go of that arm to pluck at the neck of her wetsuit, and jammed the turkey baster into it. Priscilla slid hers up Sandy’s left sleeve.

Sandy sighed, and rolled her eyes. “All right, fine,” she started, when the girls giggled, and squeezed the basters. Wetness shot up her left arm, and poured over her shoulder and down her chest.

The girls were refilling their basters from Anya’s bucket, as Sandy lifted her left arm and stared at the wetness dribbling over her hand.

“Hey,” she said in an injured tone, “this is greasy...”

“Oily, actually,” Anya said, grinning, as Priscilla slid her baster down Sandy’s back and squeezed, and Carrie gave her another full load down the front.

“That’s not very- woah...” Sandy blinked. She shook her head, and stared at Anya. “What the... what are you... what’s in that stuff?”

Anya smiled at her, as Carrie and Priscilla refilled their basters yet again.

“Oh, just something to make you do what I tell you to.”

“What?” Sandy stared at her.

Carrie and Priscilla reached for her again, but Sandy jerked herself away from them, dropping her board. “I don’t think... that’s...” she mumbled. She was getting really dizzy now, and the stuff was squishing around in her wetsuit, getting slick oil all over her chest and stomach, and down her back where it was running into the crack of her ass.

She staggered backwards, and Carrie and Priscilla approached, basters raised.

“Knock it off,” Sandy managed, and stumbled back another step.

“Stand up straight, Sandy,” Anya said, and there was a strength in her voice. Sandy felt herself stop, and draw herself up. She looked over her shoulder at Anya, confused, but it was hard to focus.

“Just be calm,” Anya said, and Sandy felt her worry drain away even as Carrie and Priscilla took hold of her arms.

“Relax, Sandy. Don’t fight,” Anya was telling her, and her words were somehow very big and Sandy was nodding. She would relax, and not fight.

The basters went into her wetsuit again, front and back, and released cool oiliness down over her tits and across her shoulder blades.

“Come here,” Anya said, and Sandy stepped slowly and precisely towards her, until she was standing in front of Anya, looking down at her.

“Go inside, go to the second floor bathroom, close the door, take off all of your clothes, and wait for us there,” Anya said.

“Okay,” Sandy mumbled, and muzzily turned towards the back door.

Deirdre yawned, and flipped the page. History was so boring.

The back door squeaked, and she looked up from where she was sprawled on the sofa.

It was Sandy.

“Hey, Sandy,” she said, slumping back down. “Your board in the shed?”

She could hear the squelching of Sandy’s feet, but Sandy didn’t respond.

“Hey,” she said, sitting up again, “I’m sorry if I was a bitch about leaving your board on the porch. The shed really is better, though, right? I mean we can lock it and all.”

Sandy just shuffled past her, not even looking, turned at the base of the staircase, and began to walk upstairs.

“Sandy?” Deirdre asked. “Why are you still in your wetsuit?”

She watched the black-clad legs disappear upstairs. Water was squelching out of the ankles, and leaving little footprints on the floor.

Deirdre stared, then slumped back to the sofa. “Fine, stay mad,” she said to herself. “Bitch.”

In the second floor bathroom, Sandy closed the door, and began stripping out of her wetsuit. Her tan, freckled body was glistening with oil underneath.

Once she had it off, it only took a moment to shed her bikini, and stand naked, facing the door. The three triangles of slick pale skin contrasted with her olive tan. Her light pink nipples slowly contracted in the cool air.

She could just see herself in the mirror on the back of the door. Long, lean... surfer’s muscles. With those freckles in her cleavage that boys couldn’t help but stare at. And the pale skin underneath that only the best ones ever got to see.

She just stood there, hands at her sides, clothes puddled on the floor. Staring blankly back at herself.

Why was she...?

Then her reflection moved, and from behind it, Anya stepped into the bathroom. She paused, letting her eyes run up and down Sandy’s naked form.

“Tasty,” she said.

Sandy thought about speaking, but the thought was slow, too slow. Anya was already moving again, opening a duffel bag that she had in her hand.

“Mistress will just love you,” she said, pulling out cables and what looked like a Nintendo gamecube, only shinier.

“Wha?” Sandy managed, and Anya looked up at her.

“Ooh, speech,” she said. “You’re a strong one.” She shivered. “All the better to serve Her, of course.”

There were some sunglasses—no, some sort of visor—in Anya’s hand when she stood up. The wires dangled back to the silver cube on the floor.

A slight leer came over Anya’s face, and she leaned over to breathe into Sandy’s ear. “I put Carrie and Priscilla to bed,” she whispered. Her empty hand drifted upwards to cup a breast. Her fingers brushed Sandy’s nipple, which tightened. “So it’s just us.”

“Nn,” Sandy managed.

“Awww,” Anya replied, her breath soft on Sandy’s ear. “You aren’t interested? Don’t worry, soon you’ll be singing a different tune. In just few hours, you’ll be oh SO happy to have me on my knees, tasting your pussy. And you’ll beg to taste mine.”

The hand slithered down Sandy’s slick stomach, and Sandy trembled as it slid into the close-cropped hair between her legs.

“Though I suspect, big sister, that you’ve got a number waiting for you, rather than a scented pillow. Which means that you won’t beg for anything at all. You’ll just do it. When you’re told.”

Sandy just stared at her.

“No reason not to get started, then?” Anya whispered.

She stepped away, and with deft movements hung the visor on Sandy’s head. It was black inside, and then Sandy felt earplugs being pushed into her ears.

Past the bottom of the visor, she could see Anya kneeling down next to the cube, placing a finger on it, then looking up at her.

“Enjoy,” she said, and then there was a light, faint but growing, and it lifted Sandy’s eyes to stare into it, and then Sandy was being drawn helplessly into it, deep into it, and then she was gone.

The pleasure as a practiced tongue slid up into her blended into the pleasure of the obedience pouring into her, overwriting her, and was lost.

But Anya enjoyed it.

Deirdre snorted, and woke up.

Someone was coming down the stairs. She lifted the book off of her face, and peered over the edge of the sofa.

It was Priscilla. She was in her pajamas, her long brown hair brushed out straight. She saw Deirdre sitting up, smiled, and made a small wave.

“Studying?” Priscilla asked.

“Learning by osmosis,” Deirdre replied, putting the book aside. “I should get to bed.”

“When’s the test?” Priscilla asked, stepping off the stairs and coming over to the sofa.

“Thursday,” Deirdre said. “But we have a review section tomorrow, and I want to be caught up enough to understand what’s going on.”

“A History of the Spanish Nation,” Priscilla read, leaning over the sofa. “Sounds boring.”

“Oh, God,” Deirdre said, falling back to the sofa cushion she’d been using as a pillow. “Is it ever. Hey, what are you doing up?”

“Just getting a drink,” Priscilla replied. As she turned from looking at the book to looking at Deirdre, Deirdre got a straight look down her pajama top. She averted her eyes, but couldn’t help but notice how Priscilla’s breasts were oddly shiny. In fact, she could see the same thing on Priscilla’s neck, the unmistakable reflection of damp flesh.

“Hey, why’s your neck all shiny?” she asked.

“Moisturizer,” Priscilla replied, standing upright. Her shirt hung almost-but-not-quite open, showing glistening flesh. “You want some?”

“Not tonight,” Deirdre said. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“Whenever you like,” Priscilla replied. “I’ve got lots.”

carrie was naked, in the chair. Sweat dripped off of her body, ran down her sides, pooled in her belly button. She was unbound, having eagerly sat herself in the chair at her handler’s direction, while the chair’s purpose was explained to her.

Now she was twitching, muscles firing randomly as the parts of her brain that ran them felt the intrusion of the programming. Were erased, wiped, re-encoded. Corrected.

Behind the glass of the control room, jess watched with a touch of envy. she knew that she had been corrected in another way, but to be undergoing the procedure—at that very moment, being enslaved, irrevocably—was something a large part of her cried out for. To erase, and erase, and erase, until there was nothing left that wasn’t obedience.

But she had been Instructed to watch, and obeying that was pleasure enough for such a good slave as she.

Behind her, the door to the control room opened. jess turned to find nicole and number seventy-four entering the room. nicole was dressed in a tight emerald green neoprene top and emerald ankle-strap heels. Her pubic hair was just a dark shadow above her shaven cleft.

Number seventy-four was in her guard uniform, black vinyl thong, abbreviated vinyl halter top, boots, and her collar. There was a touch of envy as jess looked at her, too—to be so totally subsumed in slavery as to lose one’s identity, to be just another cog in a perfect machine...

‘Elisa’ only waited for the completion of Tau Epsilon’s conversion to disappear into Mistress’ world forever. jess wondered if they would simply erase ‘Elisa’ then. she hoped so.

“Slave jess,” nicole said, and at her title jess felt her own programming take over. she enjoyed her perfect compliance as she stiffened and presented, thrusting out her chest and pressing her hands more stiffly to her side.

“Yes, overseer,” she acknowledged.

“Number seventy-four will perform for the Queen tonight. you will take slave carrie and return alone.”

“Yes, overseer.”

“Speak to me of her processing.”

“It is almost complete, overseer. Slave carrie should have a full initial imprint within the next ten minutes.”

“Very good. i shall watch with you.”

“Yes, overseer.”

Number seventy-four remained tightly erect at the door as nicole stepped up to the observation window. jess turned, slowly, her eyes flickering across nicole’s taut brown body before returning to carrie’s glistening form.

Together, they watched her twitch, as new thoughts were burned into her mind. Better thoughts. Thoughts that had been as thoroughly imprinted into each of them.

“you envy her,” nicole said, abruptly.

“Yes, overseer,” jess answered, surprised at the conversation.

“as do i. Giving ourselves to Her is all we can wish for.”

The helmet encasing carrie’s head had a light on top, a crystal knob that swirled with warm colors, red, orange, yellow. Or rather, it had swirled with colors—as the processing proceeded, the light cooled, the reds fading to orange, the oranges to yellow. Now only one pale color remained, the faint yellow of new butter.

carrie’s body twitched, and droplets of sweat flung off her to spatter the floor. In the control room, the other slaves could not hear her moans, only watch her lips part ecstatically.

“Do you envy seventy-four?” nicole asked.

jess’ mouth paused on her answer. “Yes, overseer,” she responded.

“you need not. you are a new creature, slave jessica, but you are as hopelessly enslaved as any of Her other animals. As much a mindbound thrall as seventy-four, or as i. your seeming volition, your thought, is a lie. It is merely the skin on a robot. you are, in truth, merely a number yourself. But She has had you crafted with great care, for She has a special purpose for you. i have been told this, and it is true.”

“i...” jess thought of Mistress, and the light flared in her mind so bright tears glistened in her eyes. “Thank you, overseer.”

“Thank Her, slave jess. Always.”

“Always, overseer.”

Their eyes had not left the naked body of the woman in the room. Sweat had pooled on the seat, around her heels. The light on the helmet was almost white.

Then carrie’s spasming body was still. A droplet on her nipple, growing, was not shaken off like its predecessor. Swelling, it turned, and ran down the underslope of her breast.

The light turned green.

“slave carrie is now complete,” nicole said. “fetch her, and return to the sorority. your task there is not yet finished.”

“Yes, overseer,” jess responded, turning to leave the room. number seventy-four stared blankly ahead as she passed, body tensed in the attentive position that all Her guards maintained. she gave no sign that she recognized jess at all.

The front door of the house creaked open. Outside, it was quiet, in the cool way that early mornings always were.

Alex looked up from the New York Times.

“Where have you been?” she asked.

Jess shrugged, sheepishly. Her hair was slicked back, tight black curls trapped in neat rows of glistening gel. She had on glittering blue eye shadow and dark mascara, and glossy lipstick. Her dress was a deep sapphire blue.

“We went out dancing,” she said, slipping in through the door. Carrie appeared in the doorway behind her.

“Hi Alex,” Carrie said. She was in a shimmery red sequined number that clung to her breasts and hips. Her lipstick was a bright red, straight from the 1940s.

“Dancing,” Alex sighed. “Is anyone else with you?”

“Just us,” Jess replied, as Carrie shut the door behind her. “What are you doing up so late?”

“Wondering where everyone was. It’s Saturday, and the house is dead. You two were out, Anya and Priscilla are gone, Sandy’s disappeared again, Kathryn, Elisa, Kristy...” Alex sighed. “I know we didn’t have anything scheduled, but more than half the house went out without telling anyone where they were going. Without telling me where they were going.”

Jess made an “I’m sorry” face. She shared a look with Carrie, nodded, and Carrie tiptoed up the stairs. Jess walked over to the couch, and sat down on the end opposite Alex.

“I’m sorry, Alex. I... we should have waited for you. It’s my fault—I’ve been so excited recently, and BlackBird was having an 80’s dance night tonight...” She shrugged. “We left before everyone got home. Anya and Priscilla are still there.”

“BlackBird,” Alex asked. “Isn’t that a... lesbian bar?”

“Yeah,” Jess said happily. “And they enforce. Not a lecherous frat boy in sight.”

Alex stared quietly at Jess’ happy smile. “Jess...” she began, then stopped.

“Yeah?” Jess asked.

“Why did you take Carrie and Priscilla to a lesbian bar?”

“They asked,” Jess replied. “We’ll totally take you next time, if you want.”

“Jess, what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

Alex sighed, and sat more upright. “I mean that Carrie and Priscilla were—are—the most het girls I know. And now they’re going to gay bars and, according to Kristy, making out with each other in the back of a movie theater. And you, and Anya, and Elisa have something to do with it.”

Jess shrugged. “I dunno. It’s true, that Anya and Elisa and I have been... experimenting. But Carrie and Priscilla just seemed to suddenly be interested. You’ll have to ask them.”

“Jess...” Alex said.

Jess raised her hands. “Hey, I’m telling you what I know. Honest injun.”

Alex sighed, and slumped back to the couch.

“So where’s Kristy?” Jess asked.

“She went home,” Alex said, staring at the opposite wall. “She was afraid you’d turn her into a lesbian, too.”

Jess’ eyes widened. “Really?”

“Well, she really went home.”

“Wow. Shit, Alex. I didn’t know...”

Alex said nothing.

Jess sighed, and stood up. “Look, Alex, I’m sorry. I really am. I’ll try and make it up to you, somehow.”

Alex didn’t look at her, just nodded. “Where’s Elisa, anyway?” she asked.

Jess frowned, then made an expression of catching on. “Oh, right. She’s, uh, I don’t know. I saw her yesterday, but not tonight.”

Alex just nodded again.

“Good night, Alex,” Jess said, tentatively.

“Good night,” Alex replied.

Deirdre rolled over and slapped at the alarm clock. She squinted open one eye.

Seven fifteen. Monday morning.

Stupid Professor Delmonico. Why’d she have to schedule her class for eight o’clock on Monday?

A better question, Deirdre thought as she rolled out of bed, was why was she going to class at eight o’clock on Monday? Nineteenth century American lit was about as elective as it got, for a Film major.

Grumbling at her own unwillingness to miss class, Deirdre shucked her pajamas and slipped into a robe. She wasn’t a coffee drinker, but if she didn’t get her shower in the morning, she might as well not get out of bed.

Plus she liked clean hair. Girls with long hair might only wash theirs a few times a week, or even once a week, but Deirdre kept hers finger-length so that it didn’t take too long to dry. Which let her wash it every morning.

She stumbled into the hallway and yawned as she shut the door to her room behind her. No one else had class on Monday until ten at the earliest, so there was never anyone around. She shuffled down the hall to the bathroom.

The bathroom door was open, as usual, but when Deirdre ambled in, she realized dopily that there was someone else already there.

“Anya?” she asked, surprised.

“Hi,” Anya said. She was in a tight t-shirt and white panties, sitting on the edge of the tub. The shower curtain was drawn closed.

“What are... are you using the bathroom?” Deirdre asked.

“Yeah,” Anya said, “but I need you to be here for it.”

“What?” Deirdre asked. It was too early for this sort of thing.

“Here,” Anya said, standing up and stepping along the side of the bathtub, sliding the shower curtain with her. “I’ve taken the liberty of preparing your bath.” The tub behind her was half-full of water.

Deirdre frowned. “Anya, I need to use the shower. I don’t have time for a bath.”

“That’s too bad,” Anya said. “I’m sure that Sandy will be very disappointed.”

“Sandy?” Deirdre asked.

Anya pointed.

Deirdre turned around. Sandy loomed behind her, in a black wetsuit. She was staring down at Deirdre with a frightening intensity, and as Deirdre met her gaze she had the terrifying sensation of looking out a skyscraper window. It was a long way down.

“Sandy—what?” Deirdre turned back to Anya. “This isn’t funny, Anya. What’s going on? Why’s Sandy in her wetsuit?”

“To keep the oil in,” Anya said. “Sandy’s been a tough nut to crack. An iron-willed surfer girl. Who would have thought?” She shrugged. “I’ve really only had time to lay in the most basic thought patterns; the full truth of her new life hasn’t had much chance to burn in. But she’s so strong that she could subdue you one-handed, and that wetsuit is such a fantastic way to keep her docile that I feel pretty safe using her as is. As long as she’s soaking in the oil, she’ll do whatever I want.”

Deirdre just blinked.

“You don’t believe me,” Anya added, grinning. “But it’s true. Look, you can see it leaking out at her ankles.”

Deirdre turned again. Sure enough, trickles of glistening oil were visible across the top of Sandy’s tan feet. Little pools were forming around them on the floor.

Sandy didn’t move at all.

“I’m leaving,” Deirdre announced. “Sandy, get out of my way.”

Sandy, blocking the door, didn’t move.

Anya laughed lightly. “Not a bad idea—if she could hear you, I’m sure she’d hasten to obey. That truth, I have already burned into her. But she can’t hear you.”

Deirdre stared at Sandy’s ears, avoiding those empty eyes. Curled white wires ran into each of them, from something Sandy wore on her back.

“I’d tell you about the wonders of earplugs, but you said you were in a hurry,” Anya said, “so let’s get this show on the road. Get into the bath.”

Deirdre looked over her shoulder at Anya, and the bathtub beyond. It wasn’t water at all. It was oil. The same oil trickling over Sandy’s immobile feet. It shimmered harshly in the overhead light.

“No,” Deirdre said. “Anya, tell her to let me go. I don’t want to get into that.”

Anya shrugged. “Sorry, Deirdre, you’re going into that tub. You’re going in, and when the oil has made you nice and submissive, I’m going to put the headset on you and begin your slave programming. You’re going to be a slave, Deirdre. What you want is no longer of any importance. Only what She wants.” She pointed at the bathtub. “Last chance to not get hurt. Get into the tub.”

Deirdre stared, then opened her mouth to scream.

Sandy punched her in the stomach.

Hard.

With a loud ‘whoof’, Deirdre doubled over Sandy’s fist. Sandy’s hand clapped over her mouth, forcing it shut and pushing her backwards off her heels. Sandy’s fingers whitened as they dug into Deirdre’s cheeks.

Deirdre’s lungs fought to draw breath—the punch had taken her right in the gut, and knocked the wind out of her. Sandy’s hand was clamped tight over her mouth, and was pushing back, keeping Deirdre off balance. Her arms windmilled, knocking vials off of the sink counter.

Sandy didn’t even notice, lifting Deirdre off the floor and walking her back to the tub, then thrusting her violently down into it. Deirdre made strangled noises as she thrashed, oil spattering the walls. Sandy was so strong, and the tub was so terribly slippery, but Deirdre kept thrashing.

She had to get out. Get out before whatever drugs were in the oil took effect. But Sandy was so strong, and she couldn’t get any... oh no, she could feel it, a warm lethargy seeping in; she had to get out...

Get out before... no... out...

Deirdre’s struggles weakened, then ceased. Her arms slid into the oil at her sides.

Anya pressed a button on the small remote she had been holding. Sandy let go, and stood up. Anya took hold of the wires, and gently slid the earphones out of Sandy’s ears. Sandy simply stared at the wall.

“Put the headset on her, and turn it on,” Anya said, pointing at the silver box on the bottom shelf.

Sandy bent to her task.

“What was all that noise?” Jane asked, rubbing her eyes. She was in a white terrycloth robe that was too short for her, her muscular calves and scarred knees visible below it.

“Deirdre falling down in the bathroom,” Anya replied, leaning against the wall. The bathroom door was closed next to her.

“Oh,” Jane replied. “When’s she going to be done in there?”

“I dunno,” Anya said, “but I have dibs. Use the other bathroom.”

“Okey-dokey,” Jane yawned. “Say, you’ve got something on your face.”

Anya raised a hand, and touched the streak of oil that had splashed her cheek. “Oh,” she said, “thanks.”

“No prob,” Jane said, turning and heading for the stairs.

Anya smiled. She looked at her finger, and the oil shimmering on it. Then she slid it down into her panties. She watched Jane’s back disappear down the stairs, then slid her finger a bit further, down along and then up inside herself, and let her eyes roll up into her head.

“Becky, I don’t know what to do.”

Alex was on the edge of the bed, hands in her lap. Becky was at her desk, a mech-E textbook open in front of her. Lab was in half an hour.

Becky considered. “What can you do?” she asked, finally.

“It’s not just me, is it? Am I just out of the loop, or is everyone around here going crazy? Disappearing, reappearing, changing... it’s like something from Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Only it’s turning everyone into stylish lesbians.”

At that, Becky snorted.

“What—you’ve seen Carrie and Priscilla. And Jess. Jesus, just look at Jess, and tell me nothing’s changed. Even Elisa and Anya are acting weird, and they’ve always been the stable ones. Am I just totally missing some piece of the picture?”

“No,” Becky said, “no, I think you’re right. Something is going on, something very weird. But, like I say—what can you do?”

Alex sighed. “I don’t know. But I feel like I should do something.” She wrung her hands. “I’m supposed to be responsible, dammit. I don’t have anything against, against homosexuality—but this is weird.”

“Scary,” Becky observed.

Alex ran a hand through her hair. “Yeah,” she confessed. “Scary.”

“Well,” Becky offered, “you could leave. Like Kristy.”

“No,” Alex said, “I can’t leave. Hell, I’m about to drive over to the valley to try and talk Kristy into coming back.”

“You know what your problem is? You never run from your problems,” Becky said. “Nor even ignore them.”

Alex chuckled. “I guess not,” she said. “But I don’t know what I should do.”

“Nothing,” Becky said, “yet. There’s no one to complain to, and no stakes to drive through the hearts of any suddenly-lesbian vampires. We just have to watch, and wait. And be careful.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Alex said, standing up. “Anyway, I’m off to the valley. Be back tomorrow.”

“You staying over?”

“Yeah. I figure it will take that long to talk Kristy down. Anyways, I don’t want do have to deal with the 405 more than once today.”

“Logical.” Becky looked back at her book. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

Alex smiled, and put a hand on Becky’s shoulder. “I appreciate that,” she said, squeezing gently.

Then she left. Becky looked up to watch her exit, sighed, and went back to studying.

Jane frowned, looking around the common room.

“Hey, is anyone here?”

Practice had run late that night, the big overhead lights coming on halfway through, and staying on until they were the only source of illumination for the field, casting strange transparent shadows on the field as the girls practiced. Coach wasn’t happy with their last game, so they all had to put in an extra hour, running and sweating under the big lights.

Then, to make things more annoying, Elisa had disappeared right after practice. Usually, she and Jane walked home together, but tonight she’d been gone, locker closed and duffel bag taken by the time Jane had gotten out of the shower.

So Jane walked home alone. To her surprise, she found that Elisa’s lacrosse gear wasn’t in the shed. It made her feel better, actually—Elisa hadn’t been avoiding her, she just had had something else to do. Understandable, with practice running an hour over time.

But that relieved feeling slowly evaporated as Jane wandered around the empty downstairs of the sorority house. No one in the kitchen, no one in the library, no one in the common room. No one answering when she called. The house was empty. A dozen girls and no one home, on a school night.

“What the hell?” she muttered to herself, grabbing the railing and propelling herself up the stairs.

The second floor hallway was just as quiet as the downstairs, though like downstairs the lights were on. As a senior, Jane had gotten the front room on the second floor, with big exterior windows. Only Alex had a nicer room—the same one, on the third floor.

Jane had just reached her room, hand on the doorknob, when she heard a noise. Frowning, she turned around.

There it was again.

Slowly, Jane walked back down the hall. She tilted her head, listening.

Was that... moaning?

It was coming from Priscilla’s room. Jane could picture Priscilla, sitting on the floor, some heavy book or something having fallen on her, nursing a hurt hand or foot.

She was a good friend, but also a bit of an airhead.

Jane rapped at the door.

“C-come,” a ragged voice replied.

Jane turned the handle, and gently pushed the door open.

Her jaw dropped.

Priscilla was naked, reclining on her bed. Naked and glistening, covered in grease. Between her spread legs, another naked woman knelt on the floor, head buried in Priscilla’s crotch. With the door open, Jane could hear the wet sounds of oral sex.

“Jesus, Priscilla,” she blurted.

Priscilla’s eyes rolled down out of her head, and took a minute to focus on Jane. Her wide smile grew a touch wider.

“Cc-ommme innn, Jannne,” she breathed. “Join the fun.”

Jane just stared at her. She’d realized who the girl on the floor was.

“My God, Carrie, what are you doing?”

Carrie raised her head from between Priscilla’s legs, with a wet pop as her lips detached. She slowly turned her head until her placid, vacant eyes fell upon Jane in the doorway. Her chin gleamed.

“I’m eating Priscilla’s pussy,” she responded in the calm voice she used for stating the obvious.

“But... but...” Jane paused, shocked. “You’re not gay!”

“Am now,” replied Carrie. “God, how I love pussy.” She turned back to Priscilla, grinning. “Especially yours, P.”

“And it loves you,” Priscilla replied. She looked back at Jane. “Sure you won’t join us?”

Jane’s nostrils flared, and she turned away, slamming the door.

Carrie shrugged, and her tongue went back to work.

“I am so. Fucking. Out of here,” Jane said, tossing clothes at her suitcase. It lay open on the bed, the first thing she’d grabbed as she got back to her room.

She couldn’t get the picture out of her head. How could they? They were so... so... het! She shook her head, and tossed some more clothes at the suitcase.

God, maybe Kristy had been right.

A bunch of the girls on the team had their own apartments. She could stay with one of them until... until when?

Jane sighed, and sat down on the bed.

What was she going to do? She couldn’t quit the sorority just because... she couldn’t. But... what Kristy had said. It wasn’t just Carrie and Priscilla. It was Jess, and Anya, and Elisa. What was going on? People didn’t just... change. They didn’t. Not like that.

She needed time to clear her head. With a lurch, she stood back up and returned to her open dresser.

There was a knock at the door.

“Go away,” Jane said.

“It’s me,” came an unexpected voice. Sandy.

“Oh.” Jane looked at the bras in her hand, then tossed them into the suitcase. “Come in, I guess.”

The door opened, and Sandy’s head slid in. She looked around, then stepped into the room. She was in flip-flops and a big baggy shirt, beneath which the bottom of a pair of shorts was just visible.

“You okay?” Sandy asked.

“No,” Jane said, taking a handful of socks from a drawer.

“Why are you packing?”

Jane stopped, then slowly rotated in place, socks dangling from her hand. “Because I need to get away, that’s why.”

“Oh.” Sandy walked past her, and looked out the window. “Want to talk about it?”

Jane sighed. “Have you noticed anything... weird going on recently?”

“Not really,” Sandy replied.

That’s because you’re barely ever here, Jane thought. “Well, things have just become uncomfortable, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Sandy replied, looking out the window. “That’s a shame. Is it anything I did?”

Jane chuckled. “No, no,” she said. “It’s... Carrie and Priscilla. And Anya. And Elisa. They’re acting weird.”

“Is it that they’re fucking each other?” Sandy asked.

Jane turned and stared at her. “Y-you know?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Sandy said. “Just found out.”

“Well, what do you think about it?”

Sandy’s mouth opened, but she didn’t say anything. There was a knock at the door.

“Go away,” Jane said, turning to face the door.

“Is Sandy in there?” came Elisa’s voice.

Jane rolled her eyes. “Yes,” she said.

“Good,” Elisa replied. “Number seventy-five, subdue the target.”

Jane just had time to wonder what the hell she meant when suddenly a yellow nylon rope was thrown around her from behind.

“What the fuck!?” she screamed, twisting. Both arms were pinned, and suddenly she was off-balance, falling to the floor, and Sandy was falling on top of her.

Jane was probably as strong as Sandy, but she was on the bottom, and Sandy was squatting on her, keeping her pinned to the floor. Her face was terrifyingly blank, eyes catching Jane’s but staring right through.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jane demanded.

“Be silent,” Sandy replied, eyes rising. Jane followed her gaze up to find Elisa looming over her. She gasped.

Elisa was barely dressed in a glossy black bikini bottom, a black halter top that didn’t reach her belly button, and a choker. Her hair was slicked tight to her head, and on either side of Jane’s head was planted a black knee-high wrestler’s boot.

“What the fuck...” Jane repeated, quietly.

“i shall bind the captive’s legs,” Elisa said.

“Understood,” Sandy replied.

“Sandy,” Jane said, trying to wriggle out from under her, “please. Please let me go.”

“You will stop resisting,” Sandy told her. “If you attempt to resist, i will beat you.”

Jane felt Elisa’s hands on her ankles, tying still more cord to them. She kicked a leg.

Like a cobra striking, Sandy punched her hard in the face.

Jane stared at Sandy, tears welling up in her eyes. “Sandy...”

“You will not resist,” Sandy replied. “You will be restrained, and you will not resist.”

Jane didn’t resist.

She was tied on the bed. On top of her own bed, arms and legs pulled taut like an ‘X’. A ball gag was in her mouth, cinched in tightly on its white strap.

Elisa and Sandy stood at either end of the bed. They weren’t speaking to her.

Once Jane had been tied to Elisa’s satisfaction, Sandy had left. When she returned, she’d been dressed as Elisa was—black bikini, black halter top, both in shining vinyl. Her hair had been slicked back as well. Now Jane was guarded by two motionless fetish dolls, one blonde, one brunette.

While Sandy was gone, Jane had tried to pull on the ropes. There was no give in them at all. They’d tied her well.

What had happened to her? To all of them? Sandy had been so easy going, so laid back... such a typical surfer girl. And now... she stood at the foot of the bed like a Nazi camp warden, or a robot. She stared across the bed at Elisa like she was hypnotized.

But she wasn’t slow. Jane’s face still hurt—there was undoubtedly a tremendous bruise forming on her jaw.

How long were they going to keep her here? And for what?

And did she really want to find out?

Jane heard steps outside, and turned her head to look at the door.

Anya walked into the bedroom, flanked by Jess and Deirdre. Jane’s eyes widened; she kept her lips pressed tightly together, afraid her mounting terror would force its way into voice. Her breath roared through her nostrils.

All three of them were glistening, in black and in flesh.

Anya smiled at her. The short-haired blonde was oiled like her two companions, but where they were entirely naked, Anya had shiny black stockings and arm-length gloves. Latex, Jane thought, she’s in latex. And where both Jess and Deidre—nude, glistening—stared directly ahead of them, their eyes like those of Elisa and Sandy blank and fixed, Anya’s eyes were wide not with mindlessness but with purpose.

Jane whined into the gag. The shining trinity approached.

They reached the bed, and stopped. Jane’s breath came in short gasps behind the gag. She couldn’t help but look at their pussies, now level with her head. They had been shaved identically, leaving only a well-trimmed shadow covering the mons to indicate what color they were. Their labia were entirely bare. And they glistened with oil—no, dripped with it. All three of them were leaving shining drops on the floor behind them. Slow rivulets ran from their breasts down their stomachs, and curled around their hipbones.

“Hello, Jane,” Anya said softly.

Jane whined into her gag again. She looked into the blonde’s wide grey eyes.

“i’m sorry this isn’t much fun,” Anya purred. “But i have to say, you look delicious.”

She stepped back. “Strip her,” she ordered.

Deirdre stepped forward. The unfocused, glazed-over look in her eyes was exactly the same as the look they all wore, but now Deirdre turned it on Jane, looking at her without... without consideration. Not thinking of who Jane was, how she felt about Jane. Thinking solely of how best to remove Jane’s clothes.

She held out a hand. Elisa put a pair of scissors into it.

Jess twisted, but only her hips were at all free to move, and Deirdre quickly sliced through her shirt, her shorts. Pulled them aside. With quick clips, her panties and bra were cut open, and pulled off.

Now Jane was naked, too.

Anya reached out, and slid a shining finger along Jane’s bare stomach. It left a faint greasy trail on Jane’s clenching abs.

“Pretty,” Anya said.

Jane whined, and pulled at the ropes with all her strength.

The door moved again, and behind the naked crotches of Anya, Deirdre, and Jess, Sandy saw Carrie and Priscilla come in.

They were naked, too. And oiled.

Jane slumped in defeat. Everybody. They’ve gotten everybody.

“Well,” Anya said, facing Jane again. “Like i said, Jane, i’m sorry you’re not enjoying this. Most of us had such fun being... converted. But we were told not to use the oil on you. Just the headset.” She shrugged. “Don’t know why, but then, i’m a slave. i don’t need to know. All i need is to obey.”

She ran an oily hand through Jane’s hair. “And soon that’s all you’ll need, too.”

Jane just stared at her as she smiled.

Then Anya motioned with her other hand, and Carrie—glistening, vacant-eyed—stepped forward with some sort of weird goggles.

“Put it on her,” Anya said.

Jane tried to pull away, but then Elisa’s strong hands were on her head, holding it in place, raising it from the bed. She couldn’t move her head at all as Carrie slid the earphones into her ears and tightened the headstrap around her forehead. Then she found her head back on the bed, staring up at Anya through a smoky visor.

“The subject is secured and ready for induction,” Carrie said in a monotone voice.

“Begin induction,” Anya replied.

Suddenly the visor was full of colors, completely blocking her view of the room, and her ears were full of hissing. Jane closed her eyes, but the lights were so bright she could see them even through her eyelids.

She tried to fight, to resist, but it was so very hard.

She didn’t notice when, one by one, the girls filed out.

Becky sighed, and rubbed her eyes.

She’d come home late from the lab—as usual—and found the house quiet. Not unheard of for a weekday evening, but not really normal, either.

So she’d made some ramen and gone up to her room, planning to study for an hour and then go to bed.

She’d only just gotten into the problem set when there was a tap at the door.

“Enter,” she said.

The door swung open. It was Carrie, and Priscilla.

They were naked.

Startled despite herself, Becky stared at them. “Um...?” she managed.

Anya smiled, and stepped between them into the room.

Her skin shone in the light. Her legs and arms were encased in shining black, gloves and stockings reaching to cover all but a few inches of her arms and legs. In one hand, she had a large spray bottle.

“I’m not... uh... into...” Becky attempted.

“You will be,” Anya said, walking to the bed. Her pussy was shaven, just the faintest shadows of her pale blonde pubic hair remaining above a bald slit. She turned around, and sat on the bed.

“Oh. Oh shit. It’s true...” Becky said in a quiet voice.

“Sure is,” Anya replied. “And now it’s your turn.”

“To get turned into a lesbian?” Becky asked, mouth tightening.

“To get turned into a slave,” Anya answered.

“Ah.” Becky licked her lips. She tried not to look at the phone. “Whose?” she asked.

“my Queen’s,” Anya replied. “You’ll meet her soon enough.”

“And if I resist?”

Anya gestured at the doorway. Carrie and Priscilla flanked it, their skin glistening with oil, their eyes glassy but their posture tense. “You can’t get away,” Anya said.

Becky chuckled softly. “The only way out, guarded by Priscilla and Carrie Badis,” she said. “How Homeric.” Her gaze returned to Anya. “So what, then?”

“Strip,” Anya said.

Becky remained sitting for a moment. Then, with a sigh, she stood up, and reached for the buttons of her shirt.

“What’s it like?” she asked in a small voice.

“It is more pleasurable than you can possibly imagine,” Anya replied.

Becky hung her shirt on the chair back, and unclasped her bra. “Oh,” she replied. Her bra joined the shirt, and she began to unbutton her jeans. “So, when did this ‘Queen’ get you?”

“Months ago,” Anya replied. “Only i didn’t know that i was Hers at the time. Now i am aware.”

Becky slithered her pants down, and stepped out of them. Then she bent over and took off her panties.

“Why me?” she asked, standing up again, naked.

“Because She wants you,” Anya said, standing up with the spray bottle. “And therefore you will be hers.” She stepped forward.

Becky flipped the chair at her, and lunged for the phone. She stabbed at the three numbers, then spun to face the other girls, panting.

Anya was calmly righting the chair. Priscilla and Carrie hadn’t moved.

Becky’s stomach sank.

“Hello, Becky,” came a voice from the phone.

Jess.

“we thought you might try to call for help. But i’m already on the line. Now be a good girl, put the phone down, and take your medicine. You really will love it.”

Becky put the phone down, slowly.

“Okay,” she said, softly. “You win.”

“Of course we do. Step over here,” Anya directed, pointing at the center of the room. Lips clenched, Becky did so.

She winced when the first gentle spray of oil landed on her back.

Kathryn was surprised to find no one home when she returned in the morning. Usually TE house was a hive of girls getting ready for class, eating breakfast, and chatting. Today, the place seemed empty.

But when she got to her room, she found that the house only seemed empty.

It was just that everyone was waiting for her.

With grocery bags in each arm, Alex pushed the front door open with her foot.

It was a weird feeling, worrying about coming home. Usually she couldn’t wait to get back to the reassuring life of the sorority. The parties, the meetings, the little squabbles, the movie runs, the fretting and the helping and the being there for each other. Just... the life.

But not this time. This time she was coming home to trouble that she’d have to sort out. Something was hiving off part of her house, involving some of the girls and scaring the rest. And it would have to stop.

She stopped in the open door. “Hel-looo,” she called. “Who’s home?”

“I am,” Becky said, from the sofa. It had been turned so that its back was to the door, and Alex couldn’t see her.

“Becky,” she said, “could you give me a hand with these bags?”

“Is Kristy with you?”

Alex sighed in exasperation. “Obviously not, if I need help with these bags. No, she’s still too weirded out. She stayed home.”

“That’s too bad,” Becky said, putting a hand on the back of the sofa. Alex blinked—the hand was wet.

No. Oily.

Becky stood up, and Alex managed not to drop the grocery bags.

She was naked, covered in oil. Her hair was slick with it, plastered to her head. With the exception of a black band around her neck, she wasn’t wearing a stitch.

She’d shaved her crotch entirely.

“Welcome home, Alex,” she said.

Then Alex did drop the bags, as the door slammed shut behind her. Whirling, she found Sandy and Elisa standing inches from her. Elisa’s muscular arm was on the door, holding it shut. Both girls were dressed in black vinyl, french-cut bikini bottoms and abbreviated halter tops. Both of them also had black bands around their necks.

“Sorry, Alex,” Becky said. “While you were out, they got the rest of us.”

Alex was still staring at Sandy. The formerly easy-going surfer’s eyes were wide open and glassy, staring back at her without really seeing her. Her usual relaxed smile was gone, replaced by a thin-lipped determination. Looking at Elisa, Alex saw exactly the same thing.

“Sandy?” Alex asked. “Elisa?”

“That won’t do you any good,” Becky said, and Alex finally turned around to face her. She was still standing at the sofa, still naked as a jaybird. “they’ve been Instructed not to listen to you.” Becky blinked. “And so have i.” She turned her head, showing a coiled white cord running from her ear to a small box, clipped to her neck ribbon. Her collar.

“i have been Instructed to only obey commands from my controller.” Her head turned back to face Alex. “And that’s all i do. i’m very obedient.”

Alex barely noticed the milk from one of the bags pooling around the front of her shoe.

“It’s the oil, you see,” Becky said. “It makes me obedient. Takes away my will. And it feels... really good. Good to obey. Good to do what i’m told.”

Becky shivered.

“i’m only mostly programmed, now,” she went on. “But it’s enough to ensure my complete obedience. And once you have joined us, She will come, and take us to Her house. And there She will wipe away every part of us that does not please Her, and we will be Hers, forever.”

She shivered again.

“i lust for that more than i can possibly say.”

Then Becky was just quiet. Alex tried to say something, anything, but words didn’t come. What could she possibly say?

“Poor Alex,” Becky said. “You always were far too much like the Dane. So indecisive. And now it’s far, far too late.”

A drop of oil fell from Becky’s chin.

Then two other girls walked into the room—Deirdre, and Kathryn. Like Becky, they were stark naked, and glistening with oil. Kathryn’s large breasts hung in front of her like heavy pillows. Unlike Becky, they paid no attention to Alex at all, but walked around to either side of the sofa.

Then they picked it up, and carried it to a wall.

Behind it, just behind Alex, was a clawfoot bathtub.

Anya was sitting in it.

She was holding a little white box, and turned her head to smile at Alex. Holding the box to her mouth, she whispered something into it.

“It’s time for you to join us,” Becky said.

Alex stared at Anya.

“That’s right,” Becky said, “i’m a mouthpiece.”

As Alex stared at her, Becky pivoted in place, and took three steps to the side. There she pivoted back to face Alex.

“Whatever anya whispers in my ear, i say,” she said. “And do.”

Without looking away from Alex, Becky slid a hand down to her pussy.

“i’m just a puppet, Alex,” she said, stroking herself. “A little slutty puppet. And i love it.”

But Alex was staring at Anya again, who was grinning at her from the bathtub. She held the box up to her mouth again.

“Time for some introductions,” Becky’s voice said. “Well, re-introductions.”

Anya put the box down, placed her hands on the side of the tub, and stood up. Liquid poured off of her in streams that reflected the light far too hard to be water.

Of course, she was naked, except for the little black ribbon around her throat. Naked, and sheeting the oil that had Becky so enraptured.

She stepped gingerly out of the tub.

Alex thought fast. Elisa and Sandy were still behind her. Could she make it out through the kitchen, past Anya, Becky, Deirdre... no. Maybe a window? The house was on a slope—how far was it to the ground?

Anya just stood grinning at her, oil running in rivulets down her body to puddle on the hardwood floor. She raised a hand.

From the archway to the stairs, Jane walked in.

She was also in a black bikini and halter, but unlike Sandy and Elisa, Jane glistened with oil. Her neck-length hair was slicked to her head.

Stepping smartly, she walked directly towards Anya, stopped just in front of her, and pivoted to face Alex. Anya leaned forward, her head hovering just above Jane’s right shoulder. Her lips moved.

“jane, here,” Jane said, “will shortly join number seventy-four and seventy-five behind you as guards for our Queen’s palace.” Anya whispered in her ear again, and Jane’s mouth moved again beneath her blankly staring eyes. “Just like ‘Sandy’ and ‘Elisa’, ‘Jane’ will become a memory, something to be trotted out when number seventy-six needs to use it as cover. She may still look like the girl you knew. But inside, jane is already very much just a number.”

Anya whispered again, and Jane pivoted and stepped aside.

Out of the archway came Carrie and Priscilla.

They were not naked, though the tiny silver g-strings they had on could only technically be considered clothing. Not only were they mere strings in the back, the front was cut down to the top of their slits, exposing their entire mons and everything above it. The soft silver fabric wasn’t even the size of a hand, just barely cupping their nether lips, and was tight enough that the softly folded outlines showed through.

Other than that, they had only the ribbons around their necks.

They also walked up to Anya, stopped, and pivoted to face Alex. ‘Pirouetted’ might have been a better word—there was a jauntiness to their motion that the robotic Jane had lacked. As though, mindless as their eyes proclaimed them to be, they were enjoying themselves.

Anya whispered into Priscilla’s ear.

“priscilla and carrie,” Priscilla said, “are going to be pleasure slaves. Harem girls. Spending the day lounging around without any real thoughts, active only when their Queen wants to use them for sex.” Anya took a long sideways step, and breathed into Carrie’s ear.

“Or wants them for a guest to fuck,” Carrie’s mouth said. “It’s not like they care. Obedience is so much better than sex—and sex is wonderful.”

Anya licked Carrie’s ear.

Another whispered command, and Carrie and Priscilla pranced over next to Jane, to stand at attention, facing Alex with blank stares. Anya motioned.

From where they stood at the sofa, Deirdre and Kathryn walked to stand before Anya, and turned to face Alex. Anya slithered onto Deirdre, draping herself over the girl’s shoulder, breathing into her ear.

“deirdre, and kathryn,” Deirdre’s mouth stated, repeating the words that Anya was whispering in her ear, “and Kristy, once we get her—are going to stay here. To hold down the fort. To appear normal. After all, if everyone simply disappeared, people might talk.”

“But,” Kathryn’s voice added, as Anya moved over behind her, “don’t worry about their getting away. their minds will be as thoroughly cored as the rest of ours. they’ll just serve our Queen here, rather than in Her palace. But they will be just as will-dead as the rest of us, living only for Her word.”

Deirdre and Kathryn moved to the side opposite Jane, Priscilla, and Carrie, and took positions facing Alex there.

Then Jess walked in the back door.

She was dressed.

“Hi, Alex,” she said, in her own voice.

“Jess!” Alex breathed.

“Oh, don’t get your hopes up,” Jess said. “i’m totally enslaved, too. In fact, i’m the one standing outside, making sure that no one disturbs anya’s little soliloquy.” She smiled charmingly at Alex, then turned to Anya. “nicole just called. She,” and Jess paused after saying it, “will be coming by this evening, so we need to have the house ready.”

“i understand,” Anya said. “Thank you.”

“my pleasure,” Jess said. “Have fun!”

She walked right back out.

“Well,” Anya said, shrugging, “that kind of stole my thunder. But you heard her—we have much to do.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “And the first thing we have to do—is you.”

Strong hands grabbed Alex’ arms.

“Let me go!” she cried, kicking. She tried to twist from their grip; when she looked up, Jane was coming for her, holding a white ball gag.

“No!” Alex managed to say, before Jane ruthlessly grabbed her chin and forced the ball into her mouth. Then the straps were pulled around her head, and cinched painfully tight.

Jane stepped aside, and Anya had come closer.

“It’s time for your bath,” she said.

Sandy and Elisa, holding Alex’s arms, began to walk forward. Alex dragged her feet, tried to stop, but they were too strong.

“Stop resisting, Alex,” Becky said.

Alex shot a glance at Becky, naked, eyes glassy. Then she looked at Anya, expecting to see the little box, but Anya’s hands were empty. Anya smiled, and shrugged.

“It’s wonderful,” Priscilla said.

“You should want to be a slave,” Carrie added.

“we love being slaves,” Deirdre chimed in.

“It’s the best thing that ever happened to us,” said Kathryn.

They were at the tub, now, and Jane was grabbing her feet. Alex writhed as she was hoisted over the tub.

Then they lowered her into it.

It was warm, and greasy. Alex tried to kick, but Jane still held onto her feet, keeping them under.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Anya said, appearing at the edge of the tub, looming over Elisa as Elisa held Alex down.

“The rest of us. becky, and jess, and me. And you.”

Alex stared at her. A waved of lethargy washed over her. It felt like heat, and suddenly she couldn’t kick any more, couldn’t thrash.

“we’re the clever ones. She has special plans for us, special ways to burn out our wills but leave us with our valuable initiative. we’re not just going to be slaves, Alex. we’re going to be agents. Catspaws. Tools. And,” Anya chuckled, “Fifth columnists.”

“we’re the best slaves of all.”

The hands came off, but Alex didn’t move. Everything was so distant, so placid. She just sat there, and let the oil soak in.

When she was finally told to stand up, she did.

The girls were all there.

Naked, anointed, they knelt in a perfect half-circle in the living room. Their faces were turned to the gleamingly polished floor as they crouched in anticipation. There had been much to do before their Queen arrived, but now all was in readiness. The floor, the walls, the oiled backs bent in perfect unison—everything glistened with reflected light.

The oil sapped free will—but the girls had none. The glistening backs, the slicked hair, the gleam off breasts and thighs, was a shining testament to how perfectly the wills of the kneeling slaves had been erased.

In their minds was only obedience, to the Instructions that rang in their heads. And the Queen that had placed Them there.

On the right were the guards, in their black regalia. Seventy-four, seventy-five, seventy-six. Next to them, the toys, carrie and priscilla, in their toy thongs.

Opposite were the sleepers, deirdre and kathryn. They were nude save for a silver bikini top that restrained kathryn’s breasts.

Kneeling beside kathryn was anya, completely nude save for the thin ribbon around her throat. Next to her, jess was the same, as was becky beyond her.

And in the center was alex. Ribboned, naked, glistening, staring at the floor as she awaited her first glimpse of her Queen.

The door opened. nicole walked in, and stepped aside.

Her heels clicked on the floor.

“Slave anya,” She said.

“My Queen,” anya replied, raising her body so that she faced Her, still kneeling.

“They are all Mine?”

“All save the one who has left,” anya replied.

“Very well.” She gestured with an elegantly manicured hand. “You may all look upon Me.”

As one, ten backs rose, and twenty eyes fixed upon their Queen.

alex managed not to gasp.

She was in a floor-length white dress, that glittered with a million tiny jewels. Her eyes were pale blue, and Her black hair was long and straight.

She was perfect, in every way. alex wanted to fuck Her, and to worship Her, and to kiss Her feet forever and ever.

Then She was coming towards her.

“you must be slave alex,” She said.

“Yes, my Queen,” alex managed, her voice trembling only a little.

“I have heard many good things about you, slave alex,” She said. Her hand came to alex’s chin, and tilted it up, allowing alex to gaze worshipfully at Her beautiful face. “So very talented. I shall be sure to put those talents to use.”

“Oh yes, my Queen,” alex breathed. Tears rose uncontrolled to cloud her eyes.

She simply smiled, and lowered alex’s chin.

“Very good, slave nicole,” she said. “An entire house. Neil will be rather grumpy, I think.”

“You are within Your rights, my Queen,” nicole replied.

“Of course I am,” She said. “But this rather fills My quota. Still,” she said, looking around the half-circle, “it’s hard to imagine a better lot.”

The slaves of tau epsilon simply gazed rapturously at her.

She considered them each, one by one, then nodded. “Yes, a very good lot.” She looked up at nicole, still standing by the door. “In fact, I think I shall enjoy them sooner, rather than later.” She raised her voice just a touch. “Those of you with further processing to do, and the pleasure slaves,” She pointed at carrie, and at priscilla, “shall come home with Me. The rest shall remain here.”

She smiled at anya. “Slave anya, slave jess, you have done well. Keep this house in good order for Me.”

“Yes, my Queen,” they chorused eagerly.

“Very well,” she said, walking towards the door. “Those of you who are coming, come out and get in the van.”

“Yes, my Queen,” eight voices chorused. And then She was gone.

alex, becky, seventy-five, deirdre, kathryn, seventy-six, carrie and priscilla all rose to their feet and trooped out of the house after Her. nicole stood by the door, then followed them out.

“See you girls later,” she said as she closed the door. “Have fun.”

anya and jess breathed out, and looked at each other.

“Sex?” anya asked.

“Oh yes,” jess said.

“Come, seventy-four,” anya said, crooking a finger, and the three of them hurried up the stairs.

It was a sunny afternoon in San Fernando. The new tract homes creeping up the hillsides glowed pastel colors in the bright spring light.

The silver Porsche rumbled to a stop at the curb in front of one such house, and trembled as the engine died. An elegantly-dressed woman with back-length red hair stepped out of the car, and checked a notebook.

She rounded the car, and pulled a briefcase from the passenger side. Then she walked up the new concrete walk, between the even green of the lawn on either side.

The front door was recessed into the building a bit, so after she rang the doorbell, the woman took off her sunglasses, tucking them into the briefcase. Her eyes were a pretty light green.

The door opened, and a pretty woman in her early fifties smiled out at her. “Hello,” she said, making it a question.

“Good afternoon,” the green-eyed woman replied. “I called earlier. The school has sent me out to talk with Kristy.”

“Oh, right,” the other woman said, opening the door wider. “Fantastic. She doesn’t want to go back to school, can you believe it? I’m so appreciative that the school is willing to do this. I mean, most places wouldn’t bother.”

The redhead smiled as she stepped into the cool interior of the house. “Well,” she said, “Kristy is a very special girl. We’d hate to lose her. Is she home?”

“Oh yes,” Kristy’s mother replied. “She’s in her room, right up the stairs.”

“Wonderful,” the redhead replied. “I’ll go talk to her, then.”

“Thank you. And let me know if you need anything... Er, what was your name again?”

The redhead, halfway up the stairs, turned and smiled. “Hastings. Doctor Hastings. But you may call me Tracy.”

“Thank you, Tracy. Do you need anything?”

“Not at all, Mrs. Schwimmer. I have everything I need.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll be down here if you need me. And call me Carol.”

“Thank you, Carol. I’m sure Kristy will be quite eager to talk to you, once we’ve had time to chat.”