The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

There were three occupants in Trish’s tiny room, and barely enough space or oxygen for two.

There was Jenna. She sat hunched on Trish’s bed-pod, elbows on her thighs, wearing an expression of numb confusion. Her eyes darted back and forth across the floor, as if the answer to her problem might be teased out of the seam where it met the wall.

There was Trish, who made no effort to hide her concern, but also made no effort to press Jenna for any answers before her friend was ready to give them. She sat beside Jenna, draped an arm over Jenna’s shoulder, and waited.

And as heavy and leering as a gargoyle, there was the silence. It gnawed at Jenna, and she could sense Trish’s anxiety simmering as well. She watched Trish’s toes fidget with excess energy, and heard her pulse flutter with indecision. She could even smell the stress on Trish’s breath, a faintly sour fragrance that frayed Jenna’s nerves.

The longer Jenna took to sort through her swirling emotions, the more worry seeped out from beneath Trish’s veneer of patient reassurance, and the harder it was for Jenna to keep it from infecting her own feelings. Something had to give.

“I know what you want to say,” Jenna finally said. It came out less calm than she’d hoped. “You want to know if I’m okay.”

Trish forced out a single chuckle, and gave Jenna’s shoulder a squeeze. “Yeah, that was on the list. Right after ‘what the fuck just happened out there?’ But we can start with ‘are you okay?’ if that’s easier.”

Jenna tried chuckling too, though it came out halfway to a sob. “I’m fine. Physically, I mean. Max didn’t hurt me.”

That much was true, at least. If Max had wanted to injure her, not much could have stopped him. But he never even looked at her. Perhaps he couldn’t bear to. Jenna had a feeling that, deep down, Max would never be able to live with himself if he laid hands on her, no matter how mad he got. Unfortunately, that meant Ben had to bear all of Max’s rage alone.

The onslaught of sensory information was still stinging Jenna. Max’s furious anguish, Ben’s guilt and confusion, even Trish and Sophie’s helplessness. Jenna experienced all those emotions as if they were her own. Each time she tried to sift through them, to push away those which didn’t belong to her, she came up… empty.

“I’m going to need some time,” she said.

Trish nodded. “Sure. No prob. Though… that still leaves the other question…”

What the fuck had happened, Jenna wondered. It was kind of hazy. Ben had been messing with their collars. First Max’s, which had zonked him out completely. An entirely honest accident, as far as Jenna could tell. If anything, Ben had been more surprised and alarmed than she had.

Then it was her turn. She remembered Ben’s reluctance giving way to determined curiosity as he dove back into whatever mental realm contained the collar’s programming. Then, without warning, there was a flash. Everything was red.

Even now, the memory sent an involuntary shiver of arousal through Jenna. It was like a light switch labeled “sex” had been flipped on, and one labeled “everything else” had been flipped off. A haze had enveloped her, and concepts like prudence or faithfulness simply didn’t exist while she was inside it. The experience was overwhelmingly, terrifyingly… freeing.

Even now, it was hard to feel like she’d done anything wrong. Sure, Jenna understood intellectually that cheating was a betrayal. It destroyed relationships. It caused suffering. She had caused suffering. Max’s anguish had been so sharp, Jenna had experienced pangs of heartache in sympathy. But that pain didn’t connect to any sense of guilt about the act itself. That memory—of her and Ben entangled so tightly—brought only a syrupy, comforting warmth. A buzzing joy affirming that bodies and minds were meant to be shared.

“It was an accident,” Jenna said. “That’s all. It was nobody’s fault.”

She didn’t have to look Trish in the face. Her friend’s entire musculature squirmed with skepticism. How do I make her understand?

“I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m not the same person I was on Earth. What the Concert showed me… It’s like learning the biggest, most world-shattering secret. I couldn’t go back even if I wanted to. And… I don’t want to.”

“It wasn’t just our creepy crawly buddies, though. You’re talking about what happened when we had sex, right?” Trish said. “When we were together, I felt like we were so… connected, ya know? More than I’d felt with anyone before. I wasn’t sure if it was just because I was so into it, or what. But it was almost like I could tell what you were feeling. Or even thinking. But I thought that was just because my brain was melting from cumming so hard.”

Jenna smiled. “It was good, wasn’t it?”

“Of course it was,” Trish said, more quickly than she’d intended. Jenna savored the heat and vulnerability of Trish’s blush before continuing.

“Right. It’s like we created something new and beautiful together. But it didn’t change what I have with Max.”

Or maybe used to have, she wondered darkly.

“I don’t love or care about him any less than I did before. I always thought when you fell in love, it was this special thing you had with just them. Like my heart was a box that could only fit one person at a time. Then the Concert came along, and now the box is gone now. I don’t think they were even trying to do it, when they changed me. It’s just one of the things that got rewired.”

She paused, steeling herself to give voice to the one fear still unspoken. “I’m not even sure I’m still human.”

Trish snorted. Then giggled. Jenna looked her friend in the eye for the first time since they sat down, puzzled.

“So you want an open relationship,” Trish said, grinning up at her. “You didn’t invent that, and neither did the bugs. Tons of folks go around saying ‘we’re still together, but we fuck other people and shit.’ Sure, a lot of them try it because their relationships are hanging by a thread, and they usually go down in flames, but it’s gotta work out every once in a while.”

A cautious flicker of hope passed over Trish’s face like a sunbeam in a dark forest. “Right?”

Jenna’s mouth hung open a moment. “Well, okay but… that’s a really big change for me!”

“Maybe,” Trish said. “After we fucked, I said ‘I love you,’ and I meant it. Then you said it back, and I’m pretty sure you meant it. Maybe Max would say girls don’t count as cheating, or maybe they do, but the point is, you were already dipping your toe in this ‘open’ stuff. You’d already made room in your heart box for me. Or got me a brand new box. Or wait, you said the box was gone? Ugh, forget the box metaphor! You felt that same connection, didn’t you?”

Her words were less rhetorical than she let on. The hope flickered again. Jenna pulled her tighter.

“Of course I did. You know I did. But… my heart box, or new lack thereof, isn’t the only thing that’s different. I have, like, a new sense. Or… I’m using the old ones to pick up details I never noticed before. The way you guys move. The way you speak. The way you smell. I don’t even have to think about it. I just know what you’re feeling.”

“Huh,” said Trish. “That sounds pretty cool. Can you do it right now?”

“I…” Should’ve expected she would ask me that. “Uh, sure. Of course.”

It didn’t take much deliberate thought or effort. Jenna just opened herself up to the presence of her friend, in its entirety. From that presence, the impressions flowed back into her. “You’re worried. A little scared. Less turned on than you usually are when you’re sitting this close to me.”

“That doesn’t mean not turned on at all,” Trish said, grinning impishly. She nuzzled closer. “But yeah, duh. Max was throwing punches out there. Of course I’m worried and scared.”

“Okay, how can I prove it to you?”

“Hmhmm,” Trish purred, “I believe you. But, if you’re offering…”

“What is it…” Jenna said playfully, already knowing the answer.

Trish peeled away and swung her legs up on the bed-pod, cross-legged, like she had done at so many sleepovers growing up. “You’ve been out there all day, soaking up everybody’s vibes. You gotta have something juicy, right?”

Here I am, stressing about how I’m apparently part bug now, and how to make it work between my new girlfriend and the furious boyfriend I just cheated on, and… all she wants to do is gossip? At least something around here still makes sense.

She cast her thoughts back across the events of the day, combing through her memories in search of something, anything that stood out. There were certainly moments of heightened emotions: worrying about Lin when she was taken away, and the most recent unpleasantness. But while those experiences were all intense in their own ways, they were still understandable. Logical. “Normal,” for lack of a better word. The flow from cause to effect was clear. Was there anything else she could offer to Trish? Something that didn’t add up?

There was Sophie’s fierce bout of envious frustration, first thing that morning. The poor thing hadn’t hid it very well, though, and its source would be obvious to Trish. Maybe Trish would like to hear about Ben’s nervous but exhilarating fumblings with their collars. She’d certainly be engrossed by details of what followed…

And the only event after that had been the fight. Jenna shuddered as the tumult of the whole ordeal played out again in her memory. It was still raw, a riot of sound and motion that Jenna had to strain just to examine. Everyone was confused, scared, helpless. Max most of all, and it turned into stinging rage that had to find a way out or it would have torn him apart.

For just an instant, she could see her boyfriend’s face again, just as it had been in the moments after he saw Ben lying on the ground and Jenny slumped on the table, the both of them in fresh, post-coital vulnerability. She saw hurt. She saw shame. And anger. And…

“Oh my God,” Jenna whispered. “Max…”

Trish perked up, waiting for Jenna’s report. “Max? What about him?”

“When he found Ben and I… he was…”

“He was flipping his shit,” Trish said, a bit puzzled, “you know, like you do when you find your best friend fucking your—”

“No,” Jenna interrupted. “Well, I mean, yeah, he was furious, but…”

She looked at Trish, still not quite believing what her new instincts had quietly reported to her in that chaotic moment.

“He was really turned on, too.”

By the time he heard the soft swish of the habitat doors, all that was keeping Max from full awareness was the thinnest soap bubble of green. The noise, and the two presences standing in the doorway, finally popped it. He craned his neck toward them.

His gaze fell on the uncanny, impossibly slender figure of Uukati first, and then darted over to… “Lin?”

Without knowing exactly what, Max instantly sensed something different about her. Usually Lin’s head was high, chin out, shoulders a little up, and brow just barely furrowed. Like she was daring any room she entered to say something, to challenge her, just so she could brush it off. At least how it had always seemed to Max. Lin only seemed to let her guard down around the five friends abducted with her.

The moment she took her first stride into the room, though, it hit him. It was confidence. For years, he’d watched her move through the world in quiet defiance, always ready to withstand any abuse the world might throw at her. But the Lin walking into the room with Uukati didn’t need to withstand anything. The world’s abuse no longer meant anything to her. It was beneath her.

Max supposed that, literally, the problems back on Earth were beneath her. Or in some other direction. Regardless, they were very far away from Lin, and from the poise in her every step, he expected they would stay that way, even when they were returned home. This Lin walked into the room as if she owned it; aloof, relaxed and locked onto Max like a heat-seeking missile.

“Uh, hey Lin,” Max stammered. “You’re… back?”

“I am,” she said. The timbre of her voice was different somehow. Deeper and fuller. It sent a tingle down Max’s spine.

Lin sauntered right past her bewildered friend, hips swaying with every languid step. She daintily perched on the edge of the table-fixture. She crossed her legs. She nodded to the chair-device in front of her.

By the time Max realized she was inviting him to sit before her, his ass was already in the seat. It was like some kind of magnet had drawn him along in Lin’s wake. Some force of charisma had communicated her desire, and his body had obliged. That was even more than confidence. That was power.

Now seated on a higher surface, Lin had an advantage in height, if not actually by that much. But she might as well have been towering on a mighty throne at the top of a grand staircase for how elegant and imperious it made her seem. Like a queen waiting for her subject to entertain her. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, and she returned his gaze with expectant, curious eyes.

Her eyes!

Irises, once dark brown, were now a piercing blue, as bright and deep as a summer sky. Each one seemed to glint and shimmer even as they remained perfectly fixed on Max. He was so surprised and captivated by the intensity of such a color that it took him a moment to jump-start his train of thought.

“Holy shit, Lin,” he gasped. “What happened to you?”

“Me?” she said, her gaze never wavering. “I met some nice crystal people and we got to know each other.”

Locked in that stare, neither noticed the Researcher depart or the habitat doors close behind her.

“We saw that!” blurted Max. “They put you up on the wall, so we could all watch you. To make sure you were safe. Remember?”

That felt like a long time ago. Looking up into those eyes, Max had trouble remembering exactly what had happened between then and now. The way new facets, each a subtly different azure hue, seemed to appear and twist and disappear kept demanding his attention. Kept… distracting him…

“Oh, I remember,” Lin said. “Nothing to worry about, though. They were very friendly. And they left me feeling great. Better than I’ve felt in a long, long time.”

She grinned devilishly. “Did you enjoy the show?”

For the first time since they sat down, Max looked away from her, glancing down. “Y-Yeah. Oh! I mean, no! Well, uh, it was…”

His face was burning. It might have been the brightest blush of his life. Is this how Sophie feels every time she gets herself all tripped up? How does she live like this? “I’m just glad you’re okay,” he finally said.

That seemed to gratify Lin. “I could be persuaded to give a first-hand account, but I’d rather tell it to everyone. Where are they, anyway? Did I miss something?”

It occurred to Max, suddenly, that he didn’t know. Where had everyone gone? What had they been doing? His brain was still feeling a little fuzzy, and Lin’s magnetic presence only tugged his thought processes further off course. He decided he’d better retrace his steps, starting with sitting around, watching the screen.

“Ben was… he was testing something out. The aliens did something to him… He said he could control the big screen with his mind. It sounded crazy, but, you know, not any crazier than anything else that was happening, so I didn’t doubt it. But he really could. He made it so we could see your bones and… other stuff, I think. Trish went to go check on Sophie, and then Ben wanted to see if he could turn off our collars. He was just kinda staring at it… and then… uh…”

That seemed to be where his memory of that conversation just kinda… ended. All the while, Lin listened with a constant level of interest that didn’t seem directly related to the information spilling out of his mouth. She was listening, but seemed to be more intent on Max himself than his story.

“What happened then?” she prompted.

“Then Ben fucked Jenna.”

The words came out—and the ache in his chest kindled—before Max had really processed what they meant. But he still knew they were true. The very next memory, the image of Ben and Jenna, both still sweaty and panting and dribbling cum, was undeniable in his mind’s eye.

“Oh really?” For her part, Lin sounded only mildly surprised, and not in the least bothered.

“Yeah. They did.” Max was huffing now, his eyes burning, and he made to stand up. “Ben took control of my collar and knocked me out, and the next thing I know, they’re… I can’t believe they… they… Fuck! I’m gonna—”

“SIT DOWN.”

Max sat.

“RELAX.”

Instantly, Max’s fists unclenched and his shoulders slumped. A great breath heaved out of him, taking with it all the tension he had gathered up. Seconds passed.

That was strange. He didn’t want to sit and relax. He wanted to figure out where Ben went, and vent the caustic feeling welling up in his chest all over again. But contrary to every command Max gave his legs, they refused to lift him out of the chair-thing. He wasn’t any less angry, but he was nonetheless relaxed. The eeriness of that discrepancy was enough to sap the rage, withering it away to nothing in an instant. What’s going on here?

Lin had done something to her voice. As if she’d pitched it into a range that wasn’t above or below her normal voice, but… beside it. Or all around it. To his ears, it hadn’t been any louder than a casual comment, but it struck some part of him, somewhere far below consciousness, like a hammer against a cymbal. With that otherworldly inflection, she’d shattered his train of thought and left his mind ringing with her words.

Max gulped. “What… Lin, what the hell…”

Lin sighed, and the faintest, humming trace of that tone tickled Max’s brain, prolonging the ringing sensation in the back of his skull. “Hmm… That felt good. Anyway, I know that look you were getting. Your ‘jealous meathead boyfriend’ look. It’s been a while since I’ve seen it, but now is not a good time for it to make an appearance.”

“But they…” Max started. It was hard to find the words when his brain was a vibrating tuning fork. “Ben… and Jenna… they…”

“Obviously, that was a shitty thing to do,” Lin said, “and we’re definitely going to have to hash that out at some point. But things are really weird around here. There may have been extenuating circumstances. Even if there weren’t, we still have to share this tiny room without killing each other, so you’re not going to fight. You’re going to be a good boy, aren’t you.”

Something between a mumble and a whimper tumbled out of Max’s lips. The words were blurted out like a long-practiced reflex, something Max must have repeated with some regularity, but never above a whisper, never loud enough that anyone else might possibly hear. The second after it came out, Max’s eyes bulged, and his face turned a brighter red than Sophie had ever dreamed of.

Lin blinked, tilted her head and leaned forward. “What did you say?”

“That’s not… I mean, I didn’t… um, say any—”

“TELL ME.”

“I said ‘yes, mistress.’” When his head cleared of the strange resonance, Max clamped a hand over his treacherous mouth, but it was too late.

If she had been interested before, now Lin was staring like an eagle who had spotted a rabbit. She spoke calmly, carefully, and neutrally, as though to a spooked horse. “Why on earth would you say that?”

He could barely breathe, but he didn’t dare take the hand away, lest something even more shameful jump out of him.

“You know I can make you, right? Do you want me to force it out of you?”

Max’s face was burning. He felt like he was falling. A weak, pleading shake of his head was all he could manage.

“Fine,” she said. Did those cerulean eyes just flash even more brightly? Max couldn’t be sure…

“Why did you call me ‘mistress?’ BE HONEST.”

Like a runaway linebacker, the eerie vibrations of her voice crashed through his resistance once again, and more words escaped through the cracks. “It’s what the slaves say in the porn I like, when they’re called ‘good boy.’”

Welp, that was it. Max had officially died. At least he hoped that sinking in his gut was the feeling of him dying of humiliation. After all, if such a thing was possible, this had to be the exact kind of situation that would cause it. Certainly death would be preferable to living with such a confession running amok in the universe.

Then he saw her glance down. Max followed the look, and saw an erection so stiff it had tightened his suit like an overfilled sausage about to burst out of its skin.

“Ffffuck…” Max groan-whined.

A dainty hand grasped his hair, yanking his head back up. Lin’s face filled his entire vision, her grin catlike. The sight sent a sudden pang of deja vu through him, conjuring images of the inside of a darkened tent, while the tactile sensation of her fingers called up impressions of a porcelain mask and a sea breeze.

She opened her mouth.

“Max?”

That wasn’t Lin’s voice. It was Jenna’s. Max and Lin both turned their heads, to see his girlfriend standing in her room’s doorway, and Trish looking around her shoulder.

Several marked differences stood out to Uukati, between the human habitat she had just left and the Interpreters’ laboratory she now entered. To the Researcher’s keen observational talents, these differences underscored the contrasts between their test subjects and the ideals of her species that—in her estimation—the Overseer exemplified.

First, it was cooler here. While the range of climates Interpreters found acceptable was already somewhat lower than those humans seemed to prefer, the Overseer kept their working space at the lowest temperature still considered comfortable. Coming from the relative warmth of the habitat, the crisp air sent a tingle across Uukati’s smooth scalp.

Then there was the cleanliness. The atmosphere of the entire facility was regularly filtered and purified, but Uukati had begun to detect familiar traces of organic residue when she settled into her own quarters for the rest cycle. Even with minimal contact, sharing the air with the humans left their sweat and musk seemingly soaked into her plain, utilitarian suit. It took effort to ignore, and required frequent sanitization, especially as the Researcher had noticed her own scents beginning to mingle with them since the exertions of experimentation had gotten fully underway.

But when she entered the lab, it had no scent whatsoever, as though their workplace of the last several weeks had never been used at all. It seemed as though, no matter what time she arrived, a cleansing sweep had just finished. That was a relief for which she had become grateful, as it helped delineate the hectic sensory adventures with the test subjects from the place where she could think and work in peace.

Here also, aside from the gentle, constant hum of the facility, it was silent. Interpreter hearing was not as sharp as a human’s, but compared to an Interpreter, a human made so much noise. Their vocal communication was only the start of it: Uukati had lost track of the myriad varieties of unconscious grunts, groans and sighs that seemed to make up a language all their own. Interpreters were never so uneconomical with their bodies.

Where the humans brought an unwitting chaos, confusion and impulsiveness, Ilaandu imposed upon his surroundings discipline, fastidiousness, and a calm rationality. The Overseer was a cool head and a steady hand to quench any turmoil. A diligent, quiet assurance that banished all doubt.

He would know what to do.

Uukati approached the Overseer while he was attending a free-standing work terminal, set back several paces from the wall-screen it controlled. Using a combination of mental commands and minute finger gestures above the terminal’s face, he navigated and manipulated a deluge of visual information. Concurrently, Ilaandu was evaluating test data, formulating hypotheses, and reviewing experiment parameters proposed by the other species on the expedition.

That he paused two of the three activities when he sensed her desire to converse spoke to the respect in their working relationship. He did not, however, turn from the screen.

Researcher, he said, acknowledging her, and also acknowledging that Uukati had come to him with her thoughtspace in a more formal shape than usual.

Overseer. I do not mean to interrupt, but there are some concerns I would like to discuss with you regarding the health and safety of the humans.

Of course, the Overseer replied, observing protocol in the shape of his own telepathic posture. You may proceed.

Ordinarily, Uukati would not have been so stiff. Even though rank and status separated them, the two had grown, if not friendly, at least well-accustomed to one another over the months of preparation and travel. Two Interpreters could not cohabitate for that long and not share a certain degree of synchronicity. But these matters required care and tact.

Are you aware, Overseer, that there was very recently a physical altercation between the males? While returning the female from the CERULEAN’s chambers, I sensed agitation among the others, and reviewed the habitat’s observation logs. There had been an argument. There had been… violence.

At this, the Overseer disengaged himself from the terminal, turned to face Uukati, and devoted his full attention to her. His mind betrayed no hint of concern

Yes, he said plainly, I was aware.

Perplexion flickered through Uukati’s thoughts, but she pressed onward. Should not their collar safeguards have automatically neutralized the humans before their aggression could escalate to force?

Indeed, they would have, had I not disabled them.

You disabled them? the Researcher said, stunned. But… why? The ethical guidelines set down for this expedition stipulate that we are to allow no physical harm to come to the individuals we procure for study.

Ilaandu regarded her with a composure that contained no annoyance as far as she could detect, yet still made her feel embarrassed. As though she had missed something obvious and he was hoping she would realize it without him needing to explain. If that were the case, he gave up before she was able to.

We are obligated to prevent any permanent harm through experimentation, or through violence they might direct toward us or one another. An exception can be made, however, if the conflict is relevant to our area of study. It was sexual competition between the males over a female that escalated to blows. I was observing the situation remotely the entire time, and judged that the data would fall within our remit. If the subjects seemed in danger of serious injury, I would have reengaged the safeguards immediately. The situation resolved before that was necessary.

The information gave Uukati pause. If that were true, if the Overseer had been monitoring the humans, then… they could never have posed a true threat to one another. He was too experienced and attentive to let the conflict get out of control. While danger must be prevented, an exception could be made for their research, and the Overseer was the one with the authority to make it.

And yet, even robbed of their logical bases, Uukati’s doubts remained. They are quite agitated. I detected substantial feelings of confusion, apprehension, anger and despondency. I… I wonder, if they were not so afraid of us, if we could gain a level of trust, they would be more open and cooperative, and less prone to future outbursts.

No, Ilaandu said, with the finality of an option long ago considered and discarded. We do not have the time. Gaining the trust of such volatile, irrational creatures could take weeks, and we do not have that long before our allotted study window is closed and they must be returned.

Without looking away from her, he drifted his hand over the terminal, summoning several recordings to the wall screen. There, images of the humans in their habitat played at various speeds, in various spectrums. In some, they conversed. In others they coupled. In yet others, they sat alone. Charts corresponding to vital signs, hormone levels, autonomic responses and a dozen other metics accompanied each one. Ilaandu’s thoughtspace held to a pattern of determination.

It was already theorized that exploring the interplay of human mating habits and group social dynamics would stress them mentally. Indeed, among our chief objectives is to foster conditions which generate that stress, study the forms in which it manifests, and observe how they respond to it. If we attempt to curtail their discomfort, our data will be incomplete.

As always, the Overseer was right. They needed as complete a picture of human sexuality as possible. That could not be gained by trying to shield them from their own nature. But that had not been her only concern. The Researcher brushed aside her misgivings and returned her mind to a formal posture.

I understand. However, there is another matter, Overseer. Over the course of experimentation, I have observed that the methods employed by the other Coalition species have been prone to… unforeseen side effects.

Ilaandu’s mind stiffened slightly. With less than a thought, the wall screen fell blank. Any mental changes are unlikely to linger after their memories are erased, he said.

Uukati pressed forward. Even if we were sure of that, the most striking changes are physical. The ethical guidelines stipulate that the humans should not be returned to their population in any condition that might expose our activities, nor might adversely affect the individuals in the long term.

Do they appear adversely affected?

Not exactly, but… Uukati had difficulty determining if the Overseer was becoming guarded, and if so, what he might be defensive about. He held such a disciplined grasp on his own emotions that she rarely sensed anything but the utmost poise. It was there, but it was so subtle Uukati couldn’t identify what mood it might signify.

She pondered. And from among dozens of possibilities, one explanation fastened in her awareness, the only one to fit the information she had. The Overseer was surprised. From the start, he had always had greater affinity for the psychological and sociological data, while she often dealt with the physiological observations. He couldn’t tell the difference at a casual inspection, and so had missed the changes. As the purported foremost expert on humans, that was surely an embarrassing error to make in front of his subordinate.

But… some of the side effects are quite noticeable, perhaps not to us, but to the humans themselves, Uukati said, as tactfully as she was able. All three of the other species who have been granted contact with the humans have left them changed in ways that will be detected immediately upon their return.

For a moment, Ilaandu’s thoughtspace held itself as still as mirror-smooth water. Then, as though something moved unseen beneath it, a single ripple passed over its surface, and she saw the familiar self-assuredness return to his outward mind.

I shall review these findings and keep these concerns in mind while considering future experimentation proposals for approval. Those which are already scheduled, however, will proceed unamended. If further complications arise, report them to me immediately. I will devote my full attention to them.

Thank you, Overseer, Uukati said, grateful to have advocated for the humans, while simultaneously sparing her superior a small indignity. She allowed herself a moment of self-satisfaction before moving on. I would urge that we take greater pains to mitigate further infighting. Admittedly, I was unprepared for how strongly humans feel their emotions. To be responsible for such strife among them, and to observe it directly… I take no pleasure in it.

It is not our place to take pleasure in these proceedings. Only to learn from them. If we fail to do that, their suffering, temporary though it may be, was for nothing. It is natural that you empathize with them. You are working with them closely. You are observing them for protracted periods, and facilitating discourse between them and the other species. That is why you must be vigilant and maintain objectivity, as I know you will. I would not have chosen you as my Researcher for this expedition otherwise.

For not the first time in her tenure under him, Uukati was awestruck by the Overseer’s dispassionate calm. His was a judgment entirely unclouded by sentiment, a purity of purpose that all Interpreter scientists aspired to. And there was no greater praise than his unshakable confidence in her. I must strive to be more worthy of it, she thought privately.

From the tone of Ilaandu’s thoughts, he considered all Uukati’s concerns adequately addressed, and Uukati herself dismissed. That suited the Researcher just fine. Buoyed by her successful meeting, she set out for the habitat once again.

The next round of testing would begin soon.

“Max?”

The scene before Jenna sent an itch through her brain. There was her boyfriend, sitting in a chair. There was Lin, sitting on the table, looking down on him, with a tight handful of his hair in her fist. When they both turned to look at her, she could see how wide their pupils were, see how their chests were heaving for air. It reeked of sweat and hormones. Their pulses were pounding so hard, Jenna thought she could hear them halfway across the room.

Actually, Jenna realized, she could see Max’s pulse. His cock was clearly outlined by the thin layer of alien material nominally covering his crotch. It twitched in a steady rhythm.

The itch lingered while both of them gawked at her, frozen in shock. It grew more insistent, swelling into a familiar buzz, but for the first time, it didn’t resolve instantly into understanding. Something was just out of reach, and the longer it stayed there, the more insistent the itch became.

“Lin, you’re back,” Jenna said. Everyone, including her, was surprised at how unfazed she sounded.

The noises Max made were both adorable and incriminating. He floundered and stammered, and yet he made no attempt to stand up, or move away from Lin, or even get her fingers out of his hair. Lin was the first one to meaningfully move, letting go of him and leaning back on locked elbows.

“I am,” she replied. “Max said you were watching me. What did you think of my alien friends?”

“They were wild!” Trish said, “like a new age shop had a baby with a disco ball. And they had invisible magnet arms! Wooowooo…”

She wiggled and waved her arms around in imitation of the Cerulean’s graceful limbs, but the sound effects made it closer to a spooky ghost impression.

The tension burst in a chorus of giggles. Trish’s antics, as they frequently did, got everyone smiling. Everyone but Max, who glanced back and forth between Jenna and Lin, completely baffled. In that same instant, the itching hum in Jenna’s head finally snapped the situation into clarity, but the conclusions that came to her were completely out of order.

I need to get Lin and Max to have sex.

The suddenness of the idea was only slightly less shocking than the intense conviction that came attached to it. It was something she felt with visceral urgency. It was correct.

Now in possession of an unexpected answer, Jenna found herself working backward to the question. Lin and Max are attracted to one another, she thought. This too she knew at an instinctive level, just from taking in the sight and smell of them. They would already be fucking if we hadn’t interrupted them.

That should have bothered her, Jenna knew, but somehow it didn’t. The jealousy simply didn’t manifest. Instead she found herself wishing they’d done it. She wished they could understand how correct they were to want it..

With her inhuman insight, she could feel the needs churning and colliding in her boyfriend. Jenna could meet so many of them. She yearned to fulfill them, and find a deeper communion in mind and body than even their earlier lovemaking. But she also sensed Lin’s focused desire, and knew with exhilarating certainty that it would meet some of Max’s needs even better than she could. Jenna was a puzzle piece that fit on one side of Max, and Lin fit the other.

Once all needs were met, everyone could get along again. The group would be in harmony. That was why she needed to get them to fuck.

But how?

Lin would be easy to convince. There was no guilt in her that Jenna could detect, but rather a casual deference. Her demeanor was akin to an apex predator who had tracked its prey into a rival’s territory, and had to reassess the chase because that rival had appeared. She had practically been ready to pounce on Max a minute ago, and everything about her said she was still ready, but patiently waiting for Jenna’s reaction.

Her boyfriend, on the other hand, would take some convincing. Max tried really hard to be sensitive, but he still didn’t have a strong emotional intuition, especially not about himself. He wouldn’t understand why this would be for the best. Best for Lin, best for Jenna, and even best for him.

He would have to be led. Unfortunately, he thought he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. That would mean she would need to lead him carefully.

“Thanks for looking after Lin, babe,” Jenna said cheerily. She sat down on the pseudo-chair next to Max, draping an arm over his broad shoulder. “We really should have been out here when she got back.”

Lin gave a pursed-lipped shrug, taking no offense. “He was filling me in on what happened while I was gone. Kind of a mess, from what I hear.”

Max tensed beneath Jenna’s arm, but she leaned her head against him and stroked his chest. He thawed, then melted under her lazily wandering fingers.

“Yeah, it really was,” Jenna said. “That’s what I want to talk to you two about. Max… I’m so sorry. I know I hurt you. I really, truly do. What I did with Ben was wrong, and I wish I hadn’t done it.”

That wasn’t quite true, of course. She couldn’t quite bring herself to regret it, not when the honeyed rightness of fucking Ben was still so clear in her memory. But it was what Max needed to hear, if her plan was going to work.

“I want to make it right. I want to fix things between us. And I need Lin’s help.”

Still perched on the table-thing, Lin betrayed no surprise, but she did lean forward, expectantly. “You know me,” she said with a smirk. “Always happy to help.”

Jenna nodded. “We’re never going to get past this if there’s a cloud always hanging over us, babe. It wasn’t fair for me to cheat, so we need to make it fair. That’s why… I want you to…”

She trailed off, already imagining them. Together. Her boyfriend and her friend, joining their bodies and satisfying their mutual cravings. This was the point of no return.

Wait. No. She could stop this. She should stop this. Shouldn’t she? A pang of unease twisted in her chest. She was about to ask her boyfriend to cheat on her. It contradicted everything she had ever learned or believed about love and relationships. Even a day ago, the thought would have been madness. It would have torn her heart in two. Jenna grasped for that feeling again. Jealousy like that would hurt, it might sear her down to her core, but at least it would be normal. It would be a touchstone of honest human emotion to point her back to the life they had before all this abduction insanity.

But it wasn’t there. When she imagined Max fucking Lin, all she felt was the warm, sweet buzz of the Zylian Concert. Jenna inhaled deeply.

“I want you to have sex with Lin,” she said.

It was often difficult to truly appreciate how long ten seconds could stretch, Jenna learned, when they passed in complete silence. Only the gentle murmur of the alien-made environment around them filled the absence. Lin’s head tilted, as though she wasn’t sure what she’d just heard. Jenna knew she was actually weighing the offer, and calculating if there would be any more fallout were she to take Jenna up on it. Max, however, had his brow wrinkled in complete disbelief. He just couldn’t quite process it.

Off to the side, Trish snort-coughed, the first to crack under the awkwardness. “Ahem. I’ll, uh… be over there while you all work out this little do-si-do,” she said, jerking a thumb to a pseudo-chair on the other side of the habitat. “Shout when you need me.”

She said no more, but the “I told you so” in her saunter was crystal clear to Jenna.

Max waited until Trish was out of earshot, or at least as far away as she could get in their shared habitat. “I… I don’t get it Jen. I mean… I get that things are weird around here. I get that you… made a mistake.”

It didn’t take any special insight to watch him wrestle down a surge of fury from even an indirect mention. But he did it. For her. “I get why you think this will help, but… it won’t. This isn’t the answer. Just slow down and think about it for a second. This is just going to make things worse. We’ll never be able to get back to where we were.”

The problem was Max still didn’t comprehend who—or what—Jenna had become. She was still coming to grips with it herself, but his conception of her was woefully outdated. Earth Jenna would never consider such a solution, and even if she did, she would regret it if Max were to actually go through with it. It would destroy them both. He knew her that well, at least.

He took her hand, as though she were the one who was lost and confused. “Seriously, babe, I don’t want anybody but you.”

He was lying, Jenna could tell, even if he didn’t know it. It was touchingly sweet how much he believed that lie, but she knew better. “I know it sounds weird, but you have to do this,” she said. “We have to do this. Otherwise, it’s going to poison us. I know you want Lin, and I can see that she wants you too. I’m giving you permission, babe. It’s not a bribe. It’s not a trap. It’s a free pass.”

“A… free pass?”

A strange distance passed over Max’s face, and Jenna sensed that those words in particular had cut through much of Max’s opposition. Why they did, she wasn’t sure, but they seemed to bring the idea into clarity. She would have to press that advantage. Jenna dropped her voice to a lower, breathier octave, leaning into his ear and tilting his chin toward Lin.

“This is what we need. You. Me. Us. You’re going to take Lin into one of the other rooms, and she’s going to ride you like the bucking bronco you are. It’s gonna be great, we’ll be even, and all of this will be behind us. Everything will be alright. You’ll see.”

He blushed, but his pulse was already hammering, his body heating up beneath her touch. Like wax, the hotter he got, the easier he was to mold into the shape Jenna desired. With every honey-scented word, Max was coming around to the things she was giving him permission to do. Commanding him to do, even.

“Don’t I get a say?” Lin asked nonchalantly. She was still there, and had been in arm’s reach the whole time. Her neutrality on the topic was entirely feigned.

“Of course,” Jenna said, “but I know you’ll say yes. No need to play coy.”

The grin that broke out on Lin’s face might have been the widest that Jenna had ever seen there. “You asked for it.”

Lin hopped off the table-thing, reached out to Max, curled a couple fingers under his collar, and lifted up. Max rose to his feet involuntarily, searching for one last objection.

He’d never find it, though. Jenna stood on her toes and kissed him, silencing his protests, stoking his arousal, and filling his mouth with her sweet saliva. There was no fight left in him after that.

“H-uuhm, okay, babe,” he said. A glazed, dopey look had settled over him. “I’ll… I’ll do it. For you. For u-Ous!”

Mid-word, Lin had cupped his package through the suit. Now she tugged, gently but insistently, to get him moving. “Yeah yeah. No reason to put it off. Be a good boy and hurry along.”

Max flushed deeper, but he couldn’t stop the petite woman from dragging him toward her room. Jenna watched them leave, knowing that Lin was about to satisfy her boyfriend in ways that she never had, and maybe never would.

The thought brought her nothing but joy.