The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Your name is Stephanie Halloway. You’re a twenty-something gym trainer in St. Thomas, Iowa. With a long black ponytail, curvy figure and attractive features, you’re reasonably hot and fit as hell. A lot of clients have told you that you look like the Wii Fit Trainer. You have no idea what that means, though. Your idea of being a nerd is reading on a Kindle. Personality wise, you’re normal enough, but you can get kind of flighty sometimes. Maybe that’s because you’ve been raised in a posh neighborhood of an already wealthy resort town; or because your parents are far from normal. You’ve been raised, for instance, to know that Hollywood is full of crap.

Well, okay, sure, everybody knows that. It only takes a few seconds of actual thought to realize being shot in the shoulder wouldn’t have you going to work the next day. But to hell with action movie physics. How about the axiom “demons are dangerous”? Surely that isn’t some tired trope invented to make life easier for a lazy screenwriter? I mean, come on, they’re demons. If they aren’t dangerous and evil, then who the hell is?

You legitimately wonder that, because you’ve seen a demon, and he was a total wimp. An asshole, to be sure, but a wimp.

Okay, maybe it was the lighting. Or the heavy chains he was cuffed in. Or the tacky symbols drawn all over his cell. Still, with an emaciated body and an angsty behavior to make Edgar Allan Poe look like Woody Woodpecker, he really did look pathetic. Apparently he was captured and stored in this sealed room because the human he’s possessing is brain dead anyway, which has to be the demonic equivalent of special olympics. And if he couldn’t frighten a little girl, he definitely wasn’t cut for big bad villaining.

Wow, wow, wait. Did you get to see a captive demon in your childhood?

Why, yes! After all, your mother is an honest-to-God Exorcist. Sanctioned by the Vatican, equipped with age-old relics, the works. She’s not exactly done a bang-up job as a parent, as you might have gathered already. But as a teacher in all things demonic, she was pretty good.

Also, your father is one of the local priests. Yeah, St. Thomas is a pretty old-fashioned town and doesn’t have just one gothic church, but several. And yes, when I say you’re sheltered, I mean it. It isn’t as bad as it sounds, though—your family’s really progressive. They’re okay with you not attending Mass for a good decade and counting, for instance. As a matter of fact, the Halloways raise more than one eyebrow in your fervent neighborhood, but the Bible-thumpers around know better than to fuck with a sanctioned exorcist. Especially when she’s influential enough to marry a supposedly celibate roman catholic priest.

So here you are, at 24 years old, with a background in exorcism and a habit of groaning whenever demons are presented as dangerous. Go you! But while that makes you feel pretty confident already, your knowlege doesn’t stop at hellspawn. Your Mom might be an exorcist, but possessions are actually sort of rare, so she’s also versed in every supernatural thing threatening our world.

You wouldn’t call her a slayer—occult beings know that killing people tends to blow their cover. But they do need some...forceful reminders every now and then. Reminders she told you all about. So here you go: while you have never hunted yourself, you know a thing or two about the occult.

In your actual life though, you’re a sports girl. You started out as a gymnast, even going through speciality courses and such. When you weren’t busy resenting your absent mother or bitching teenagely at your well-meaning but kind of clueless father, you were trying to get into the Olympics. And failing, much to your regret for about a month. You’ve ended up settling pretty easily as a fitness professional. You don’t complain. Sure, you get to see way too much floppy flesh for your tastes, but the job otherwise suits you well, and the pay’s cosy.

So you’re at your friend Laurie’s flat, right. Nothing special, just a girls’ night in. The three of you are talking about your favorite pop culture topics, watching funny videos on the net, you know. Stuff. Ain’t stuff just the best?

Laurie’s a nice girl. Too nice for her own good perhaps. A tiny brunette with a childish voice and the most innocent eyes. You’ve known her since grade school, and you’d swear she never went through puberty if her D-cup didn’t say otherwise. She doesn’t collect hello kitty dolls or anything, but she is a Pinterest regular. Her spotless apartment is rife with scrapbooks and embroideries, and her wardrobe doesn’t even know what a neckline is. In short, you may be the daughter of an exorcist, but she owns you at being the God-fearing good girl.

Your other friend is Thalia. A cute, short-haired blonde, and the obligatory spunky one of your childhood friends trio. She’s kind of unruly, but your social environment says that about anyone who knows what two different beers taste like. In fact, she’s the only one drinking tonight. Her interests are a bit tomboyish, and she likes talking about outrageous things, but in a tongue-in-cheek kind of way.

All three of you are aware of your powerfully NORP background, but never really feel constrained by it. Once out of the sparkly clean public picture, nobody really gives a shit what you do.

Which is fortunate for you right now, because the clock strikes Midnight. Which of course means it’s time for horror stories. Thalia and Laurie turn to you, a glint in their eyes. They very much know about your mother, and you have no second thoughts whatsoever about turning forbidden knowledge into entertainment. Mommy dearest wouldn’t approve? Well, tough!

“So? How’s the demon in the basement, Steph?” Questions Thalia, a mischievous smile on her cute face.

“Hm? Well, he’s still being a depressing douche, I suppose. Mom isn’t visiting him much these days.”

“Really?” Asks Laurie. “Why not?”

“I don’t know, she said she won’t be setting foot in his cell again before her new rite is complete.”

“Ha ha, what? She’s making a new thing just for him? Why? You said it countless times, that demon is broken and useless. Just...sitting there being all emo and stuff.”

“Yeah, they should just let him rot in that cell...he can’t go back to Hell with the seals, so...”

“Well, Mom says they’re keeping him trapped just so they can find a way to put him down. Like, permanently.”

Silence.

“What? But...He’s a demon! They’re sort of beyond death, aren’t they?”

“Well, yeah, but apparently they found these super ancient ritual that can actually ice one. It was incomplete, but a recent find in Iraq could, mom thinks, be the last piece missing.”

It should be noted that Thalia’s brow did not twitch right after you said Iraq. Nope. Absolutely didn’t.

“But why? Why kill him? Couldn’t they just keep him to figure out new weapons against Hellspawn?

“I guess outright destroying an immortal is that new weapon.”

“Doesn’t that seem unnecessary to you? I mean, as long as the demon’s gone, why care if he’s in Hell or not?”

“Yeah, I agree. Mom and her crew have always been pretty crazy about finding a secret weapon against demonkind, but it did always seem to me that exorcism is already doing a bang-up job.”

The three of you agree on the insanity of your lineage, which is pretty much the go-to reaction for your after-midnight tell alls. And while killing immortals is on your mother’s to-do list, you figure it isn’t really that much of a chilling story. Your friends want entertainment, not the supernatural evening news. Fortunately, you know your friends won’t mind if your tales are only based on a true story.

“Well anyway, before she started going on about that, she was up in Pittsburgh to investigate a case. Some people apparently turned into ash statues while no one was looking, and...”

Suddenly, your phone rings.

At this hour? You groan, bracing for one of your exes’ drunk late night calling. To your surprise, though, the caller ID is...your neighbor?

Crap. Abigail’s not exactly the drunk type. Hell, you don’t imagine her going to bed any later than 10PM. You, my friend, have a square neighborhood. You pick up.

“Hello? Abigail?”

“Stephanie! Oh my God where are you?!”

“At Laurie’s place...what’s the matter?!”

“Oh thank the Lord! Your apartment is on fire!”

“WHAT?!”

“The fire department is here, they’ve evacuated the building, I was sooo worried you were still in there, I...”

“Thanks, neighbor. I...I’m coming over, alright?”

Laurie and Thalia look at you, concerned. You already start packing your things.

“Sorry guys, I gotta go. There’s a fire at my place...”

“Oh no! How terrible...Want us to come with you?”

“No, thanks Laurie. Christ, and I was just done with the loan too...”

“Call us if you need anything, girlfriend.”

“Yeah, I will. See ya!”

You thus bolt out of Laurie’s cozy apartment and into the frisk March night. It’s about a ten minute walk from here to your place, and though you briefly consider taking a cab, why hurry? The firefighters are already there. So you walk at a brisk pace, already thinking about the fight with your greedy insurance company, having to go back to your parents for a while, and other bullshit a stray spark is about to put you through.

But as you’ve made it about halfway, you realize you forgot your keys at Laurie’s!

Way to go, Stephanie. Your mother’s not here to tell you how much of a klutz you can be, but your brain sure is.

You decide to screw it, the door’s probably been axed to shit anyway. Plus, you’re sure Abigail will take you in for the night. She wouldn’t, in fact, allow otherwise, that’d be bad for her running as the world’s quaintest neighbor.

So you continue home. Eventually, you arrive near your building...and notice a distinct lack of fire truck. Or evacuated neighbors. Everything is calm and still.

“What the hell?”

You pick up your smartphone again. It definitely was Abigail’s number that called you. Again, what the hell? Did someone placed a prank call in her stead? Was she blackmailed or someth...

Your train of thought is interrupted by a strong scent filling the air. Did the baker down the street decide to start working before 1AM? Nah, it doesn’t smell like baking bread, but rather like honey. Raised to be cautious around weird shit, you take your consecrated crucifix out of your breast pocket. Can’t possibly hurt.

According to your occult knowledge, honey, being eminently natural, would most likely be connected to Faes. Hey, hold on...That would explain the phony call from Abigail! The Fair Folk have always been aces at imitating people. But supposing they are the prank callers, what do they want out of you? Hell, what are they even doing here? Ever since Christianity destroyed Celtic worship, they’ve been content to stay in their domains. They only come out if they want new thralls or if something big is going down.

Could it be that they’re here because your mom wants to kill an immortal demon? Well, that’s clearly a major happening, so plausible enough. In which case, it might be worth it to see what the Gentry has to say.

As a fearless badass, you decide to investigate. You spend a few moments locating the source of the fragrance. Your first thought was right—it’s coming from the park near your place. A sorry little artificial island in the middle of River Ellen, filled with dog crap. Kind of a weird place for the Gentry to show up, but hey, in a sea of asphalt, even a lone 20-year old maple tree is a lighthouse for them.

You cross the bridge and step into the park, putting your crucifix back into your pockets. Unlike demons, fairies aren’t hurt by consecrated stuff. Besides, bringing up the Nazarene at a Fae meetup is kind of like bringing a likeness of Jar Jar Bink’s prodding dong at a Star Wars convention.

Ahem. The park is really unremarkable. It’s got a fountain, a playground, and just enough trees in the periphery to entertain the pretense of being in the great outdoors. You like going there to read your e-books after a day of workout classes, but otherwise it’s fairly shit.

The smell of honey is getting stronger, carried by a soft, warm wind. You quickly realize it’s coming from a suspicious rustling shrubbery just beyond the swings. You go investigate, but stop one meter away from the bushes. Curiosity nearly made you forget that the Fair Folk can be dangerous as hell. Not all of them—Urisks are pleasant conversation partners for example. But the Unseelie court is what Lovecraft’s nightmares shit the bed about. And that’s if they show up on Earth. If they pull you into their homeworld, you’re more fucked than Hell’s favorite succubus.

Still, you press on. You hunch over the rustling bush to look inside. To your disappointment, there seems to be nothing there, even though the sweet smell is more intense than before. You frown, recalling Mom’s lessons. The Fair Folk can only be seen by the people they want to. Unless you have the Sight, which you don’t. But could you have, you don’t know, the Smell? Or is that simply too lame to exist?

Silly musings aside, the shrub is decidedly free of talkative leprechauns. With an annoyed sigh, you stand up. Too bad tomorrow’s your day off—You could use some commanding people around after this wild goose chase. You’ll settle for some passive aggressiveness.

“Nice to meet you too, you invisible prick.”

With that off your chest, you turn around.

The modest park is nowhere to be seen. You are now facing a sunlit forest.

“Oh crap.”

Oh crap is right. You don’t know how, but you’ve got yourself transported into the Otherworld. Faerie. Tír na nÓg. You recall your Mother’s warnings.

“Hell is a nightmare, but it’s built for humans. The Otherworld is completely, utterly alien. It’s a place of abundance that overwhelms body and mind. Even its nicest Sidhes can make you forget who you are, and there are plenty of places that redefine dread. But the worst thing about the Gentry’s realm? Death has no meaning there.”

You gulp, then spin around, hoping to see a way back to reality. No such luck. You see more trees, and a big-ass honeycomb lying on the ground. Like, as large as a retractable bollard, chock full of raw, cloudy, pungent honey. You’ve been lured by a literal honeypot, and if Mommy dearest is to be believed, you’re now so deep in shit, you might as well try to dig down and settle into the Earth’s core.

Looking at the place, though, you’re having a hard time buying it. It’s...a forest. Nothing too alien about that, right? Wait, hold on. As your eyes start to linger, you see the trees moving; swaying to the strange, whirling breeze around, revealing entire ecosystems as they dance.

You see small pools gathered inside their leaves, chirping birds catching tiny little fish as they leap out of their surface. Squirrels with golden fur chasing each other along the trees’ bark, their eyes and actions full of intelligence. The modest insects swarming around the forest glow bright enough to be seen in daylight. One flight gathers on an undulating branch, forming the silhouette of a small little girl. It looks towards you, giggles coquettishly, then disperses.

“Okay so...I’m in the Seelie court? I hope?”

Likely. What little you know of the evil Unseelie court indicates they would never even try to sugarcoat their abominable nature. Still, out of precaution, you look around for signs of fucked-up shit...Only to lay your eyes on Tír na nÓg’s Sun.

“Whoa!”

Instead of a giant ball of nuclear fury, there is an even more gigantic hole in the sky. It is a good three times larger than our good old star, and infinitely less painful to look at. In fact, it is rather beautiful.

On the surface, it’s a swirling mass of colors, but each and everyone of them possesses a life. It bursts forth from the hole, descending on the landscape in the form of a vivid curtain, displaying pictures of baffling variety. Castles. Monsters. Coral reefs. Even a damn spaceship! Just that one color from the celestial hole is an aurora borealis full of stories.

Laying your eyes on the Faes’ realm has cursed you! You’ll never take a travel brochure seriously again.

Jest aside, this place just isn’t for humans. You should bail.

But your courage knows no bounds. You venture forth into the surrounding woods, picking a direction at random. The enchanted nature is a bit overbearing at first, with both tree branches and birds flying uncomfortably close to your face. But soon, it begins to clear up, and you once again smell the scent of honey. You’re on the right track!

Just a few moments later, you’re out of the forest and standing on a hill above a meadow. It looks like a fairly standard wildflower field, except the daisies, poppies and primroses are twice your size. That looks like a good place to find a honey-making fairy. You easily make your way down despite the steep angle, and voila, you’re now Stephanie in Wonderland.

Like the the forest before, the meadow reveals a wealth of life upon looking closer. The wild grass around the beaten path only reaches your knees, but you glimpse tiny thatcher roof cottages through the blades of grass. Do they themselves have even tinier neighbors? And here you thought thinking about the sheer scale of space was dizzying.

Anyhow, you don’t see anyone your size, but you know you’re not alone. There’s a buzzing all around you, or more accurately, above you. There’s no mistaking the vibrating sound—very large bees are frolicking inside the colossal flowers. Their song grows louder as you march on, but it never gets distressing. In fact, you feel strangely at peace. Those are some big-ass bees out there, and you tend to flip your shit just hearing a normal, rightfully tiny one. Yet you don’t feel a single speck of fear.

Not even when you hear a strong buzzing to your immediate right. You turn your head calmly, and aren’t startled in the least to see a monster looking at you. In fact, you greet it.

“Hi!”

Seriously, you must be on drugs or something. You’re facing a tiny woman with insect wings hovering in front of you. She has fully adult proportions but the size of a small child, and she’s looking at you with black, compound eyes and a curious, innocent expression.

“BzzZzbZztt?”

The bee girl tilts her head to the side, prodding the air with two antennae growing out of her golden puffy hair. You blush a little upon realizing she isn’t clothed at all. Some yellow and black chitin covers her abdomen and limbs, but her surprisingly large breasts are on full display. In fact, you see a golden liquid leak out of her right nipple. Literal honeytits, huh? Other than that, she seems utterly harmless, with no stinger in sight. The only thing not adorable about her, really, are her clawed hands and feet, but even that is mitigated by the balls of pollen sticking to her forearms and legs.

“Aww, did I interrupt your foraging? Sorry! Do you know where’s the one who you called me here?”

“ZzzZzzt?”

The poor thing seems dumbfounded, but she raises her head, as if thinking. After a few seconds, a flash of understanding seems to traverse her simple mind, and she lands on your shoulder before pointing to your left with her clawed hand. An aurora touches the ground from the hole in the sky, and you can see the landscape change before your very eyes. A large, if kind of rudimentary mansion is created from thousands of assembling honeycombs. The hexagonal pieces, you notice, are of varying size -two even serving as pillars- but most of them are as big as the one who lured you to Tír na nÓg. Though it seems the hive-mansion is just being created, you realize this might not be the case when you see dozens of little bee girls fade into existence, flying around, playing with each other while their sisters are out collecting. Have they just started existing, or has the Faerie’s sun merely shown them to you?

Transfixed, you walk forth. The wild meadow around the hive turns into a beautiful garden as you walk. You see gorgeous, vividly colorful flower arrangements grow from granite slabs. You see fountains of liquid honey burst from the ground, their bounty coalescing into a basin decorated by bee girl statues. Floral fragrances fill the air invite you further inside the garden.

“This is a Sidhe...” You realize. “A Fae’s domain”

Yeah, and that should be a huge fucking red flag. Faes have Godlike power when in their cribs. But you’re so high on fairy dust right now, you wouldn’t even bat an eye if fifteen humongous golems walked in and asked you for a pregnancy fitness class. But that’s how you like it, do you? We’re clearly heading for a game over and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Fine.

You now stand in the beeswax palace’s inner courtyard. In the middle of it, sitting on a flower throne, is a beautiful, voluptuous blonde woman. She looks perfectly human, clad in a black and yellow regal dress complete with a fuzzy collerette. Then the next moment, she looks just as insect-like as her subjects. This is the real deal. A Fae. A creature so foreign it makes Demon Lords look like your disgruntled ex-boyfriends.

“We are glad Human Stephanie has accepted our invitation.”

You shiver from fear just hearing her voice. It is soft and friendly, but its sheer surreality creeps you out. You barely heard anything more than a buzz, yet you discerned her meaning with disturbing clarity. The monster is captivating your mind with a mere greeting.

She starts walking toward you, and you can taste honey on the tip of your tongue. You face an incomprehensible power, and yet you feel just as serene as you were in the meadows. You start to grow aware of how strange you’re acting. You’re inside a Fae’s Sidhe, completely at her mercy. Isn’t this a horrible mistake? Shouldn’t you be running right now?

“Do not fear us. Human is safe. Humankind is strange, but we have always loved it.”

No. You feel it in your heart. The queen bee is benevolent. Her smile is earnest, but it goes beyond that. Way beyond. Just looking at her body language, you somehow learn that this Fae had once, in the times of pagan religions, provided honey and candlewax to deprived villages. You shake your head, weirded out. The Fae is somehow able to show you the past, and unconsciously at that. You’re not in any danger, you conclude. This is a chance to converse with a Fae. You feel so honored!

“Thank you...Why have you called me here?”

“We are cut off from Banality. What Human hive calls Earth. Still, we read its strings of Fate. There is grave danger ahead. Desires and Ideals are fated to clash.”

Great, she speaks in riddles. Well, she is a Fae. Fortunately, you aren’t completely at a loss. Mom taught you that Heaven and Hell are closer to humans than Christianity realizes.

“Desires and Ideals...You mean Demons and Angels, right? Well, that’s nothing new. They always were adversaries.”

“No. Peace binds them...But threads of fate all lead to war. We have consulted with Seelie. No one found a fortunate fate. Our hive would help Human’s, but cannot. Banality will not even let us rescue its prisoners. Human Stephanie alone could sense our beacon.”

What’s she banging on about now? At least you gathered that you were the only one in the real world who answered to her olfactive call.

“Well...Here I am. Great place by the way. So, you want to help? How?”

“We will welcome Human Stephanie to our hive. We will give it peace and happiness in our meadows. It will never have to regret its crumbling world.”

“Huh...What?”

You don’t like the sound of that...And neither do you like the strong buzzing around you. Little claws grab your t-shirt and jeans, restraining you painlessly.

“Hey hey hey! Hold on! Are you planning to...”

“Yes. Human Stephanie will be forever safe and happy as daughter of our hive.”

The Fae has nothing but the kindest of smiles on her shifting face. Dammit, this is why you don’t deal with the Fair Folk—Their idea of fixing a situation is turning your blood into angry crows! You try to struggle, but the bee girls swarm around you, weighing your arms down.

“Goddammit, no! I don’t want to become one of them! Please don’t...”

The Fae ignores your pleas. She understands your resistance, but cannot fathom why it should matter. This individuality of yours is an aberration to her. Yes, you’ll be much happier as an unthinking, industrious little bee. The queen blows you a kiss, and everything goes black.

When you wake up, you find yourself in the foetal position. Your clothes are gone, but something warm and sticky is coating you. It doesn’t take long for you remember you are in a Fae’s clutches. In fact, you’re inside some manner of hexagonal, golden cell. A honeycomb. Hey, aren’t those where worker bees are born?

“Shit. Shit shit shit shit.”

Your skin tingles. You try to wipe off the sticky stuff pouring on you, but realize in horror that you can’t. You can feel your hand through it. The goo is melding with your skin. Panicked, you punch the comb’s opaque lid with the full extent of your strength, but it doesn’t amount to much. You have barely any room to move at all. Kill Bill’s coffin was downright spacious in comparison.

In a rush of adrenaline, you alternate between punching the lid and scrubbing the goo off your skin. But you make no progress whatsoever. You even feel the stuff permeating through your skin and into your muscles. Your moves grow sluggish.

“Goddammit, no...Stop it! I don’t want to become a bee!”

You body gradually grows completely limp. You are left to dread your fate inside a perfectly relaxed body. You notice the sticky stuff is gone from your skin, having served its purpose. For a moment, you dare hope the comb will let you recover. Wishful thinking, of course. Something starts pouring out of the walls. Something white, pearlescent, and strongly sweet-smelling. As a fitness nut, you recognize it immediately. Royal jelly. A popular dietary supplement, and more relevantly right now, the substance even worker bees grow up in.

To confirm that you are in just the deepest shit, a mask fades into existence right in front of your face, then wraps itself around your mouth and nose.

“HMMM?!”

You immediately try to tear the thing off, but you’re completely unable to move. Good news, you can still breathe. Bad news, only through a tube sticking out of the mask and into the comb’s walls. It is transparent, and you see it being filled with golden, glowing powder.

“Hmmm! Hmmmmngh!”

You hold your breath as the fairy pollen fills your breathable space and the royal jelly fills your entire cell. Your skin tingles again, far more than the paralyzing goo. even giving you a jolt of pleasure once it reaches your naked pussy.

“Aaaaah...!”

Your pussy tingles like crazy, and so do your nipples once the royal jelly reaches them. You can already feel your flesh obeying the transformative substance, and if your slutty helpless moans are any indication, the Queen’s worker bees are far from sexless. You breathe, and an incredible scent overwhelms your senses. The smell is so pleasant, it makes you see flowers. Flowers everywhere. Can’t think. Can’t thi-

You snap out of your smell-induced trance. Sadly, you realizzze time has flown. Your vision has changed. Things look...fragmented. You try to make sense of the dozens of identical images in your field of vision, but it gives you a splitting headache. You scream, and a whiff of the pollen makes it all better. A flash of instinct tells you that you are still developping, that your brain isn’t ready to interpret your new senses.

“Oh fuuuck, I’ve already started turning...”

You are distracted from your lament by positive feelings coming from your antennae. Wait, you have antennae?! Yes. They’re nascent, but they wriggle around already, sensing the thoughts of the other bees. Well, thoughts...More like simple, animal instincts. Happy instincts. You want to tear yourself from them, focus on your own, human feelings, but those of the hive are just so pleazzzing...

You try to ignore the feelings invading you, to focus on who you are and why you have to resist. But your vision keeps splitting, and it grows more distressing each time. It gets harder and harder to concentrate, while the bee girls’ alien thoughts get louder and clearer.

Time passes...

Your tits are on fire. The royal jelly has made them large and very, very active. At some point you can’t remember, two tubes have attached themselves to your nipples. All the pollen you were fed was for pacifying you, but it still had to go somewhere. The pumps are sucking hard, squeezing sweet, golden honey from your large boobs and battering your fading mind with orgasmic pleasure. It seriously feels amazzing to have big honey udders. You’re barely human anymore.

You are a bit puzzzled by the bad feelingz it gives you though. Your body iz being prepared for harvest and it feelz amazzzing. Plus, it’s so strange. There are no sisterz in this feeling. Just loneliness. Being so lonely you go crazy and think weird things. You’d much rather be with your sisterz. You’re glad your antennae are done growing. No lonely thoughtz.

So you breathe in the nice pollen and enjoy the jelly giving you a smaller, lighter body so you’ll be able to fly. Your brain’s shrinking too, but though that makes you feel the bad feelings again somehow, you know it’s better this way. The smaller brain will be much better at using your awesome eyez. Besides, you’ll hear your hive much better without all the big thoughts.

Your back is ztarting to hurt. Wingz are coming out! Wingz are good. You’ll be able to fly with your sisterz. Leave stupid ground. Bzzt.

Days later...

Bzzt! The cell opens. Bee is ready! Bee’s body iz much better now. Strong claws for strong gripping. Big antennae for hivethinking clearly. Big boobs for honey! Brain silent now, no more bad feelingzz. Bee as happy as sisters. Bee get out of cell, spreads her wings and takes flight!

“Zzzzt! Bzzbzzzt!” Bee buzzes, overjoyed by her first flight. Being born iz great!

Bee flies past sisters happily sucking the honey in their breasts. Bee wants to feed a sister too, but first, it’s foraging time! Bee makes her way to the meadows. Bee’s amazzzing eyez spot a free flower in no time. There, a sexy alraune beckons bee. Bee betz she haz lots of delicious pollen.

“What do we have here?” Giggles the flower girl. “You’re that foolish human who walked past here a moon ago...Aren’t you much better as an unthinking honey bee?”

“BzzzZZzzt?”

“Nothing. Come and glean, little one.”

She opens her green legs and spreads open her floral pussy. Bee buzzes happily as she crawls through it. Bee then starts licking the Alraune with love, playing with her own, sensitive pussy as she does. Mother Queen wantz her hive happy, alwayz.

And no one is happier than this anonymous little bee.