The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

In the thick fog of unthought, perception and sensation behaved strangely, but the mind absorbing them had no space for notions of strangeness. Eyes and ears only took in that which was necessary for obedience. Awareness of the environment or body was ignored in favor of the execution of commands and the experience of all-consuming reward. Nothing else was important, and even the important parts were unlikely to be recorded into memory for later retrieval. When the machinery of consciousness returned to function, it accelerated so gradually that the threshold of thought was long passed before it was remarked upon.

So it was that Max came back to alertness as the little spoon.

He found himself staring at the edge of the bed-pod, and the empty wall beyond it. It hadn’t been that he opened his eyes to look; they had been open already, and his brain had just worked up the minimum amount of cognition needed to use that information.

Over the course of two minutes, he pieced together other facts. He was laying on his side, in a fetal curl. A warm body, smaller than his, was pressed against his back. A slender arm was hanging over his waist, its hand resting on his abs. It wasn’t Jenna, and that didn’t bother him. Max couldn’t figure out why, but it didn’t. Maybe it’ll come to me.

Memories of his captivity trickled back. Some came easily and clearly, but there were a handful with sharp edges where they cut off, and similar fuzzy blurs where they faded back in, just like right now. Groping along the edges of those blanks made him uneasy, so he let them be. Thankfully, other facts distracted him.

His dick had the accomplished soreness of a quarterback who had set seasonal bests for running and passing in the same game. And the arm belonged to Lin. It was then Max remembered those two items were intimately connected. The memory of what they had done—mostly what she had made him do—slotted into place, bringing warmth and color to his cheeks.

“You’re back,” Lin said softly.

Max had no idea how she figured that out, but it didn’t really matter. “Yes Mistress,” he said. It was practically involuntary, the way the phrase jumped from his lips. It was as though every time Lin spoke, she was cranking an invisible jack-in-the-box. It felt good.

“You can cool it with the ‘Mistress’ for now. I want to be just Lin again.”

At that, Max felt a trickle of uncertainty down his spine. “Yes Mi—uh, okay. Sure…” Had he done something wrong? It was their first time together, and even though he had been against the free pass at first… he hadn’t found any part of himself that regretted it yet. At least not until he found out how Jenna was feeling about it.

“I’m still getting used to the idea of us. Of being somebody’s ‘Mistress,’ and having a slave.”

Max shivered at the word. He was pretty used to the idea. It was his stickiest, filthiest fantasy. No matter how deep he tried to bury it, or how long he resisted its lure, he always returned to it. It was carved into his mind like the grooves of a record, ready to be played whenever his will faltered. But he would have to get used to the reality of it coming true.

“You…” he ventured, “you liked it, right? Did I do good?”

Though he couldn’t see her, by means of some strange sixth sense, Max could tell that Lin smiled. He could feel it like the warmth of a lightbulb on his neck.

“You did great. Don’t you worry about that. I’ll be making good use of you from here on out. Often.” Max felt Lin’s breathing catch, and her body tense against his back. “You enjoyed it too, didn’t you?” she asked, her voice unexpectedly guarded.

The question made the needle skip on Max’s fantasy. None of the mistresses in his secret porn watchings or kinky imaginings ever asked their slaves if they enjoyed it. If anything, the opposite was the desired effect. Injury and humiliation were the opposite of “enjoyment.” Max knew intimately, however, how the right hurt could be thoroughly enjoyed.

“Yeah, I did,” he said. Lin relaxed a little, and Max realized he did too.

They lay in a comfortable silence for a while. At length, Max took the hand draped over him, and interlocked his fingers with Lin’s.

“If we’re just ‘Lin’ and ‘Max’ right now, can… can I ask you something?” When she affirmed, he took a deep breath. “How are you not disgusted by me right now? I always thought that anyone who found out what I liked… what I wanted… I thought I would make them sick. Who could see me like that, acting like a groveling little wuss, and not hate me? It’s my worst nightmare. My secret’s out. How can I face you? How can I face Jenna?”

Though his words came out calm, Max felt fragile as a dry leaf. Any safety provided by the walls of the tiny room was flimsy enough, but even that was better than the terrifying unknown outside.

“How could I hate you?” Lin said. “Skipping over the fact that you made me cum like crazy, you shared your truest self with me. I’ve snapped thousands of pictures of people. I’ve never seen anyone so pure, so authentic, as when you were on your knees, worshiping my feet. Some people go a lifetime without seeing someone that vulnerable. That real. You gave me an incredible gift. How could I be disgusted?”

“But all that stuff you said…” he croaked. “The stuff abo—”

“I said the things that I knew would drive you wild. The things that turn you on the most are the ones that sting a little, and they sting because you know they’re true. Knowing that I can do that to you, knowing I can make you squirm with a few choice words… that power turns me on. Granted, when I caught you with your dick in your hand yesterday… I was pretty pissed. But I think I understand you better now. I definitely understand myself better. Things were weird at the time.”

“Were weird?” Max chuckled. He pondered her words for a while, letting a quiet settle over the two of them again. He couldn’t quite believe everything she said, but had no particular reason not to.

“You’re finally being honest with yourself,” Lin said, breaking the silence. “I’ve never respected you more. I’m still going to say things that hurt you, but I’m not trying to hurt you, understand? Not really. It’s dirty talk. I’m going to push your limits, but never more than you can take. I don’t want to break you. I want you to be strong, because it makes me even stronger when I take your reins and make you mine.”

Max’s cheeks warmed again, but she was getting through to him. If Lin had wanted to do some real damage, she knew him well enough to do it. In this state, it wouldn’t take much to pry open his insecurities and totally trample his ego. Instead, she was cuddling him. The next spell of silence wasn’t as scary.

After some time, Lin sat up. “Let’s go see Jenna. Do you remember your promise?”

He rolled, looking up into her bewitching blue eyes. Her long black hair was mussed, and clung where her sweat had dried. She had offered him a deal, when they’d been making that sweat. When he’d been desperate for release. It occurred to him that he might have grounds to feel coerced. In that state, deep in the thrall of submission and on the edge of climax, he would have agreed to nearly anything. And if he didn’t, Lin could have made him agree anyway. The thought of being so helpless before her sent fresh surges of hot blood to multiple places.

“Yeah, I remember.”

He had to forgive Jenna. And Ben too, but… One at a time. Jenna first.

They found her in one of the bean-bag blobs, with a cuddler of her own. Sophie was cradled in her arms, curled up and apparently—from the dainty snores and trail of drool on Jenna’s chest—asleep. Jenna freed an arm and held a finger to her lips when Max approached. He circled around and knelt behind her, and Jenna craned her neck back, pulling him into a kiss. She smelled sweet and tasted like contentment.

“Where’s Trish?” Lin asked softly.

Jenna frowned. “The aliens took her while I was distracted with Sophie. At first I thought she was taking a break, but then I turned to check and caught a glimpse of her leaving with Uukati. I really should have known; Trish would never take a break while there’s still pussy to be eaten. But by then it was too late to do anything about it.”

The blonde’s gaze moved back to Max. “How’d it go?” she whispered, but her placid smile and bright eyes told Max that she already knew.

“It was… good.” That was a lame answer, lacking the honesty that Lin demanded and Jenna deserved. “I mean… babe, it was great. Incredible. You were absolutely right. It feels so weird to say it, but I… I slept with another woman and… it was so good, babe.”

“It makes me so happy to hear that,” Jenna said, and contrary to everything he believed about his relationship just the day before, Max knew in every bone and muscle she was telling the truth. “You’re going to have to tell me all about it.”

Max took her hand and kissed it, ignoring how Sophie stirred briefly. “I will. Just… first, I’m sorry for how I acted before. I know I scared you. And everyone. And I know you… you fucked Ben, but we’re even now. We can move on. I forgive you.”

“That’s all I want, babe. Now listen. This won’t change what happened, but you need to understand, it truly was an accident. I was the one who talked Ben into fiddling with the collars more, even after he accidentally zapped you. Only instead of the ‘shut your brain off’ button, he found the ‘make me crazy horny’ button. Like ‘can’t think of anything else,’ absolutely feral horny. And with the way I am now… well, he didn’t stand a chance of saying no to me. It’s not his fault.”

His chest started to tighten and his jaw clenched. That story made sense. A reasonable explanation to put a neat little band-aid on the betrayal. “Where is he?”

Jenna held his gaze, upside down, for a long moment. Her expression was inscrutable, seeming to be searching for something in his face. Max didn’t know if he wanted her to find it or not. Whatever the outcome, she released his hand and pointed to one of the doors.

Max did his best to push the anger away, and let it go. He didn’t want to lose his best friend, any more than he wanted to lose his sweetheart. But if he were completely honest with himself, he didn’t know what he would do when he walked into that room. But he had to. For Jenna. For Lin. Even for Ben.

Even for himself.

For the first time, the prescient habitat door didn’t open before he had a chance to knock on it. The interval between knock and opening could only be described as hesitant, but it did open. Max cast one more glance to Jenna, clenched a fist, and stepped inside.

It was a mystery to Trish—though not a mystery she had consciously defined—whether the sublime, blissful haze she enjoyed whenever her collar submerged her in green obedience was part of the device’s function, or whether it was just an unintended side effect. Was the wearer’s resistance removed and compliance secured by filling the brain with witless, dreamy pleasure, or was that luxurious, erotic feeling just the brain’s response to being overwhelmed by alien science too powerful to resist?

Or was it just her response to it?

These were questions she might think about later. Right now, Trish couldn’t think. She could only follow behind Uukati, because Trish’s mind was green, and Uukati had bid her follow. The poor woman had been on the edge of orgasm, enthusiastically servicing a pussy—that pussy’s first time with another woman, no less—when the collar had activated. Minutes later, striding mechanically behind her graceful captor, she was still there.

Trish was rarely troubled by an overabundance of modesty, but right now, the fact that the crotch of her suit hadn’t yet rematerialized, and her glistening cunt was exposed to the cool air of the corridor mattered much less than its delightful throbbing. Her stiff nipples strained against the alien rubber, feeling like little antennae dialed into the frequency of her submission. Every step felt like a gentle, teasing kiss on her clit.

In time, however, the green faded. First Trish’s gait slackened from its purposeful march. Then she let out a faintly disappointed sigh. Then she remembered who exactly and where approximately she was.

“Shit…” she whispered.

Uukati cast a glance over her delicate shoulder. I apologize for interrupting you, but I could not delay any longer. There is a schedule we must adhere to. Otherwise, I would have been pleased to let you continue.

“No, it’s fine,” Trish said, trying to orient herself. “Not like I was living out several of my fantasies at once or anything.”

She really wished the Researcher would slow down. Just a little bit, so Trish could get a grip on her runaway arousal. But any delay might prompt Uukati to zap her again, and she didn’t want her mind obliterated by the green again. Or so Trish told herself.

Maybe conversation would distract her. “So… you were watching us as we were… having our ‘girl time?’”

The presence resting its telepathic fingertips on Trish’s thoughts seemed to soften and warm. A charming term for such a fascinating behavior. You are quite invested in same-sex coupling, despite its utter lack of reproductive function.

Trish snorted. “Thank God for that. Can you imagine if girls could get each other pregnant? I’d probably have a hundred little gremlins by now. And all the child support? Blech!”

You have no desire for offspring?

“Me? A breeder?” Trish scoffed, but after a moment of thought, she wasn’t so sure. “That’s not really something I’ve had to think about before. Hasn’t been a possibility with my usual partners. How about you? You got any melon-headed little tykes running around?”

The question put a hitch in Uukati’s stride, much to Trish’s amusement. Our species has transitioned away from such… messy means of procreating.

“Aw, that sucks. Sometimes the messy way is the most fun.”

Savoring that small victory for humanity, the athlete caught up to the Researcher until she was walking abreast with Uukati. The alien’s expression was unreadable, but the sensation of the telepathic connection was inquisitive.

“So who have you set me up with, Kat? Can I call you Kat? I think giving me a naked physical puts us on a nickname basis, don’tcha think? Anyway, are they some kind of horny brain slugs? A tribe of green-skinned Amazons? Or, uh, maybe like a big slimy space-squid with a bunch of touchy-feely tentacles all over. I’ve seen a couple Japanese cartoons like that before.”

Unfortunately, Uukati’s composure had rallied. You are rather more curious than some of your fellows.

“Yup, that’s me,” Trish said with a lopsided grin. “Finding myself more curious by the day.”

They rounded another corner in the endless maze of identical white-walled corridors—how Uukati could navigate them, Trish had no clue—and arrived at a door. Based on criteria she put forth, the Overseer has paired you with the Omneron Ambassador. She is most excited to meet you.

At their approach, the barrier swished open, revealing a brightly lit chamber. Now that she was here, suddenly Trish had butterflies in her stomach. “Is that all the info I get? I gotta say, you’re doing worse at putting together a blind date than my aunt, and she always sets me up with men.”

The Omnerons are a mutamorphic, macromoeboid species. Peaceful, and much like you, very curious. The Ambassador especially so. You are perfectly safe. I will be observing from a distance.

The door closed between them, and Trish was alone.

“Yeah, you like to watch, don’t you,” she mumbled under her breath.

The room was circular, just like the human habitat, with the same smooth white walls and soft, gray floor. It wasn’t quite as large, though, and had none of the pseudo-furniture. Trish found the air warm and humid, though not as warm and humid as the Zylian laboratory-nest. There was nobody else in sight.

“Hello? Anybody home?”

Only one feature really stood out. In the center of the room, the floor recessed into some kind of basin or tub. It seemed to be filled nearly to the brim with some kind of peach-colored substance. Trish approached it, looking down and seeing a vague outline of her own shadow reflected in the smooth surface. It looked like some kind of gel. Whatever it was, it smelled good. Like a musty, mossy forest floor.

With nothing else to do, and nothing to lose, she touched an experimental finger to the liquid.

It rippled. More than it should have, given how light the touch had been. Splotches of the stuff darkened to a rosy pink, and the entire pool vibrated, making a trilling noise.

Trish scrambled back a few steps, as, before her very eyes, the goo bulged up in the center. It rose, forming a round bulb atop a thick stalk connected to the pool. It pointed at Trish. Once again, it vibrated, but Trish felt Uukati envelop her mind again, and this time she could understand the high-pitch gurgling as if it were plain English.

“Welcome, friend human! It’s wonderful to finally meet one of you!”

There was a warmth and friendliness that radiated from the blob through the mindlink. Uukati had called her host a “she,” and indeed the noises, somehow, had a vaguely feminine quality. Almost… bubbly, for lack of a better word.

Whatever Trish had been expecting, this wasn’t it. “Uh… hi?” she said.

As first contacts went, it left a little to be desired, so she pulled herself together, and cleared her throat. “Hi there. I guess you want to study me or something?”

“Oh yes, very much.”

The bulb-stalk fell back into the pool, and then the entirety of the opaque blob flowed up and out of its basin, in defiance of gravity and fluid dynamics. It—she—was comparable in size to one of the squishy bean-bag-chair-like furnishings, as best Trish could estimate. It was hard to gauge, though, because the Ambassador didn’t sit still. Part of the mass extended up, leaning closer to Trish, and the human instinctively took a step back. The extended pseudopod leaned one way, and then the other, appearing to consider her.

“Oh, goodness, my apologies. The Researcher reported that you humans have been remarkably tolerant of the other biomorphs you’ve met. But if my form is upsetting, I can try something else.”

The Ambassador drew up more of her mass into the reaching tendril, pointing it upright. Two handless arms sprouted from newly-formed shoulders, and she grew to roughly Trish’s height, thickening and morphing until it took on a vaguely humanoid shape. A lump in the middle bulged upward, then narrowed at the base, becoming a featureless appendage that could be charitably called a head. She didn’t have much in the way of hips or legs, however, as the torso was a solid pillar that perched upon the puddle of her remaining mass. The overall effect wasn’t far from a modern art sculpture that suggested the human form. Or a kindergartner’s best attempt at a clay doll.

All the while, the Ambassador’s surface swirled with subtle color changes, with different splotches of peach and rose and orange mottling and blending and disappearing and reappearing in a constant, gentle dance. It might have been Uukati working her magic, but the longer Trish looked into the display, the more sense it made.

“Is this better?”

Even her scent was a component of the Ambassador’s speech. As the musty aroma turned more floral, Trish knew the smells and color displays were communicating the macromoeboidal equivalent of a hopeful smile. Her head swam from the Ambassador’s earnestness.

“Oh, uh, yeah. All good! I’m just never sure what to expect when they drag me out of our room, you know? I like to think I’m pretty tolerant, but it’s a big relief that you don’t have big claws or teeth or mandibles or junk like that.”

Not that it had turned out that bad during her meeting with the big Zylian bug-people. It had been overwhelming, sure. Confusing, even, but she’d found new reserves of “tolerance” when it came to close encounters with new lifeforms.

“Excellent! As an Ambassador of Omneros, it is my duty and honor to exchange knowledge, understanding and essence with any newly contacted species and return it to my people. But don’t worry, I won’t be running any boring scientific tests, despite what that stodgy Overseer suggested. Please think of this as a conversation.”

Trish nodded along, instantly trusting anyone who disliked Ilaandu. “Sure, I can handle that. I’m Patricia Ross. My friends call me Trish.” She extended her hand.

The Ambassador’s head-stalk and both arms extended and hovered around the hand, as though examining it from all angles.

“You’re, uh, supposed to shake it,” Trish giggled. “It’s a human greeting. I give you my name, and you give me yours, and we clasp our hands together and… move them up and down a bit.”

“Fascinating…” the Ambassador said. “Not so different from how my people greet one another.”

Gingerly, the goo reached her own appendage and touched it to Trish’s palm. It was warm, smooth and slightly slimy to the touch, but spongy in her grip as she shook it. Like a balloon filled with pudding. When the creature gave her name in return, however, it came as a series of lilting trills, a flurry of tan speckles across her membrane, and a hint of something smelling a bit like petrichor. Her fingers tingled ever so slightly where the residue lingered.

“Yeah… no way I’ll be able to say that.” Trish tapped her chin. “And ‘Ambassador’ is too formal. Mind if I come up with something a little easier? I feel like that would be less offensive than butchering your real name.”

“Of course,” the blob cooed. “Whatever will make you most comfortable.”

“Hmm… Ambassador… Amba… Oh! I think I’ll go with ‘Amber.’ I met an Amber once. A real corn-fed farm girl. Had the cutest dimples. And her nipple piercings… Anyway, how’s that sound?”

“Oooo-trrrrdd!” Amber said, trying out the new name for herself—without much success, Trish would have said if anyone asked. “I love it!” Amber said, turning rosy again. “First contact is even more fun than I thought it would be!”

That gave Trish pause. “Is this your first time doing this sort of thing?”

Blotches of nervous gray spread on Amber’s surface, and she shrank slightly inward. “Uh, yes, it is. I had only just been made an Ambassador when Overseer Ilaandu chose me for this expedition. It is a considerable responsibility.”

If anything, the flicker in Amber’s confidence only endeared her more to Trish. It was utterly baffling to her how strange this interaction wasn’t. Despite being a misshapen mass without a face or recognizable body language, Amber was effortlessly disarming and relatably vulnerable. The conversation already had all the same fluttery, cautious excitement Trish had felt on countless first dates. But rather than standing opposite a giggling, bi-curious valley girl, she was looking at a bashful blob from beyond the stars.

“Don’t worry,” Trish said. “Whatever you need, I’m your gal. What do you want to talk about?”

The gray disappeared from Amber’s membrane, replaced by pink. “Ah. Actually ‘speaking’ is not my people’s primary method of communication. We can produce and sense vibration in the air, but our hearing is not so sharp. Nor is our sight. I have photoreceptors all over, but they’re not very developed, and hard to focus. At this distance, I’m not entirely sure what you look like. We much prefer physical contact, like your shake greeting.

“Might I have permission to touch you more?”

The handless tendrils extended tentatively forward, and to Trish’s own surprise, she had no instinct to shy away this time. If anything, it was refreshing for one of the aliens to be so considerate and ask permission before manhandling her. Or bughandling. Or blobhandling, in this case. “Yeah, sure. Go ahead and do whatever you gotta do. Just don’t cover my mouth and nose. A girl’s gotta breathe, you know?”

“Of course,” Amber giggled. “I studied the Overseer’s documentation about human anatomy, so I should be able to avoid those. If I accidentally harm you, please let me know. I wish for this to be a friendly exchange.”

Trish couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, they’ve all been pretty ‘friendly’ exchanges so far.” While the macromoeboid babbled, Trish held still as a pseudopod mushed into her arm and spread outward. Then the “face” of Amber’s bulb-stalk pressed into Trish’s neck. The wet, clinging, shifting sensations sent shivers down her spine, but she relaxed into them. In moments, Amber had engulfed her entire left arm, and quickly covered her cheek and ear. Upon reaching the base of Trish’s skull, Amber halted.

“Oh! Are these ‘hairs?’ I learned about your hairs from the documents, and found the idea very fascinating. They’re… oh, they’re nice. That many fibers, all sprouting together so closely, is quite a unique texture. So many little details! And a delightfully earthy flavor.”

Presently, Amber had wrapped around Trish’s head like some kind of gelatinous hood. The blob drew over her eyes and sent slimy, exploratory protrusions wriggling into her ears like searching tongues, sending surprised shivers down her spine. As promised, however, her mouth and nose were left alone. “This… is the weirdest scalp massage I’ve ever had.”

Amber’s trilling was much louder now, but muffled, like someone shouting underwater. “Is it alright? It will be necessary for me to be in contact with many surfaces of your body for a complete examination. I checked the documents about human culture, but the issue of interpersonal touch was… inconclusive. In some cases, brief contact appeared polite, even perfunctory. But prolonged physical closeness seems to be highly intimate, or even taboo.”

“That’s true,” Trish said, “It’s different depending on where you’re from. On Earth, I mean. But we don’t usually put our bodies skin-to-skin for more than a few minutes. Usually just for sex. Or cuddling, I guess. When we ditch the clothes and tangle our limbs is when we feel most connected, but also… exposed.”

“It is the same for us!” Amber’s exuberance could be felt in how her grip on Trish’s head tightened, but only for a moment. “Many species have separate eyes and ears and noses, but our membrane is the only sensory organ an Omneron has. With it, we see and hear and pick up scents from a distance, but touching and tasting are fundamental to our perception and communication. To even casually greet another Omneron, I would touch its every surface.”

The collection of sensory input that Trish received and Uukati interpreted for her indicated that Amber was working up her courage, and not particularly good at hiding it. “My first objective with this contact is to gain a full picture of your form. Your entire form. I can make my examination of your body piecemeal, however, if too much contact would make you uncomfortable.”

Trish had been expecting something like this. Well, not a full body massage from a sentient bowl of Jello per se, but all the aliens had gotten handsy with their human test subjects so far. But this was the first time an alien had seemed to care about her as a person and not just a guinea pig. If anything, Amber seemed to be as anxious about meeting strange new life forms as Trish was. Maybe they could both learn something together.

“I think you should just go for it, Amber,” Trish said, feeling those fluttery, excited jitters again. “Whatever you’ve gotta do, or… wanna do, I trust you. Let’s do this!”

“Excellent!” Amber chirped, brightening both in posture and in color palette. “Your trust is not misplaced, I promise.”

Spreading her feet apart and holding her arms out from her body, Trish invited Amber’s full inspection. More and more of Amber’s gelatinous mass spread out and around the human’s body, wrapping her in a slimy hug. If not for everything leading up to this, Trish might have thought the alien was trying to attack and eat her. The alien was so silky and strong; it was like standing in the tropical surf. Enveloping her. Rippling all over her. Warm and flowing, like waves… tall waves… Heavy waves…

It was like being hit by the slowest, most gentle, considerate tidal wave imaginable. Despite her usual coordination, all the extra weight shifting up around Trish quickly became unwieldy.

“Wai-oah!”

She toppled over onto her back… and then she was floating. Amber had absorbed the impact, plunging Trish even deeper into the oceanic illusion.

“Ah, my apologies. Maybe I was a little overeager.”

“A-All good,” Trish said. It had been less than a minute, and already her suit was a memory. The more skin that was exposed by Amber’s warmth and friction, the more the alien seemed to shudder and trill with delight. It was a true full body massage; not just a pair of hands that worked one part at a time, eventually covering everything. From her toes to her head, every part of her was being touched and kneaded and explored at once.

“Mmm… the rest of you is as lovely as your hairs. So many wonderful flavors and subtle textures… Oh, more hairs down here!”

Trish shuddered. “Heh yeah, left my razor back on Earth. Didn’t even… bring it camping, since I wasn’t expecting to get any, hah, a-action. This… hmmm… feels really n-nice. Oh w-wow. Are you really… tasting me? All over?”

A twinge of uncertainty urged her to close her legs, but her limbs just felt too relaxed, too limp to entertain such a pointless request. And when Amber’s slithering, searching, tongue-like pseudopods found something new to taste, Trish certainly didn’t stop Amber from pulling her legs a little further apart.

“Indeed I am. I must confess… I’ve never encountered a biochemistry quite like yours… You’re getting salty all over… And… mmmm, in this one spot, almost a delicate tang…”

The Ambassador was changing as well. Trish was awash in heady scents, sweet and floral, like lilac and overripe fruit. The more insistently Amber probed at the aching entrance of Trish’s pussy, the muskier Amber became.

“It’s… it’s quite pleasant. It, um, I mean you… you taste very very good… I want… more. M-May I?”

With Trish’s eyes covered and ears plugged with Amber, her body bonelessly trembling in Amber, her lungs filled with Amber, there was only one way they could get even more entangled. “Haaahh, yesss… I want m-more too… This is good. Please don’t stop!”

It wasn’t usually like this when she was showing a woman how to pleasure another woman. There was no fumbling, no dialing in the right pace or pressure. Just an easy, gentle rise into yummy arousal. Amber was feeling how hot she was and tasting how wet she was, and that knowledge only made it better. Trish rolled her hips, trying to grind against the wriggling pressure even as the pseudopod stroked her more hungrily. The scent of sex had reached her nose, and Trish wasn’t positive it was coming entirely from her.

“Oh Gawd… please. I want it. I want you… inside…”

“In… inside?”

Trish’s head swam. She considered herself something of an expert in the sensual arts, and a master of her own body’s responsiveness. But Amber inflamed such delicious pleasure everywhere she touched, and she was touching everywhere at once. It sank through her sensitized skin, through her languid muscles, and even into her bones. Can bones cum? I guess that’s why we jump them. Wait, what are you thinking, girl? Pull it together, you fuck-drunk ditz!

You mean… here? Amber asked. When the macromoeboid’s questing tendril parted Trish’s entrance and pushed in, any chance Trish had of pulling it together evaporated. Amber’s pseudopod wasn’t like any toy Trish had ever tried. It wasn’t like Ben’s cock either, though it was just as hot. The shape of it was in constant flux, softer and more flexible than a normal phallus, conforming to her pussy even as it filled and stretched her. Rather than thrusting, it seemed to inflate a little every time she inhaled, then pulsating in rippling waves up its length. In only a few breaths, it was pressing firmly on her g-spot, and after a few more, had filled her more completely than anything ever had.

Trish felt feverish, delirious. Stringing two intelligible thoughts together was a monumental task, and finding a reason to try was even more difficult. She just wanted to float inside Amber, getting fucked like this forever.

Amber’s chirping, cooing noises weren’t much more coherent. “You’re so warm, in there. All over but… especially in there. And the flavor! Like nothing I’ve… I… I feel strange…”

The tendril surged, forcing a gasp from Trish’s throat. A tidal swell of groping surfaces clenched around her even as she weakly clenched around Amber’s turgid member.

“Wait… um, I was supposed to… There was something… Patricia Ross, I need to ask you… Hmmm, tastes so good…”

What was Amber trying to say? Trish wasn’t really paying much attention anymore, couldn’t really muster any, but she didn’t mind. The membrane all around her quivered and vibrated in the most exquisite ways when Amber was talking. “Haaaahhh… Y-Yeah, so gooood…”

“Your essence!” Amber said, grasping her thoughts once again. “Ambassadors are supposed to… collect essence. Bring it back to Omneros. Oh my… You’re getting so warm… May I harvest some of your essence?”

The request was utterly immaterial to Trish. Amber could chuck her into a volcano for all she cared, as long as the blob brought her over the edge she had been approaching since they had embraced. Trish was befuddled and exhilarated, confused and alive, helpless and yet so safe. Her nose and lungs and blood were soaked in the perfume of lilac and excitement. She wiggled her hips—such as she could in her formless bondage—to coax Amber even deeper.

“Yesss! Pleassse! Do it!”

Amber’s appendage throbbed and pistoned in and out of Trish at a pace slower and more languid than any sex she’d ever had, yet no less intense for it. Every thrust was like an ocean wave crashing firmly and fully into her cove, and gently rolling back to prepare for the next. Each time, her mind was sent tumbling like driftwood, given just long enough in between to swim for the surface, only to be tossed and disoriented all over again by overwhelming pleasure.

Amber’s voice felt far away, and yet omnipresent. “They said… oh, you’re squeezing me back, so nicely… and oh, they said all I needed to do was… was to stimulate you, and… you’d expel your essence. Please, Patricia Ross, please let it go and release it to me!”

Trish curled her toes and clenched her core with sudden strength. Beneath the Amber-hood and her own eyelids, her eyes rolled upward, and she cried out with every thrust. “Oh fuuuh! Yes, yes, omigowd yes! Donstopdonstop pleeeze! I’m gonna… I’m g-gonna! Ah! Ah! Ahh!”

They weren’t the loudest or most performative sex noises she’d ever made. Her body was too jellied by the slimy, tender, pampering grip of her lover to let loose with wild screams. Instead, Trish climaxed with panting gasps that gradually became joyful sobs. She did as instructed, and let everything go.

It was hard to tell how long the orgasm lasted, but eventually the convulsions petered out. That seemed to be some kind of signal, because Amber also relaxed, losing all shape and becoming a thick, deflating puddle. Trish flopped and rolled away from her partner, sliding a foot or two across the floor, leaving a trail of Amber’s slippery mucus behind her.

The two of them sat like that for a time, Trish panting and Amber burbling softly, both winded and neither speaking. Trish was the first to make an attempt, after a minute or two. She felt like a newborn deer, and probably looked like one too, as she struggled to sit upright.

“Yikes,” she chuckled. “I haven’t been this sticky after sex since that Jello wrestling tournament at Dark and Stormé. Is that how ‘conversations’ between blob-people usually go?”

There was no reply from the Ambassador. The alien was gradually drawing herself back into a rounded lump next to Trish. Her excited pinks on Amber’s membrane were overtaken by a contented peach, which gave way to contemplative hues of yellow much like her namesake. Every few seconds, a pseudopod emerged from the base of her mass, tracing the surface of the floor, and pulled back in.

She was fidgeting, Trish realized. “Hey, Amber? You good?”

Abruptly, the color drained from the Omneron’s surface. When a furtive stalk-bulb rose up and angled toward Trish, it was an ashen gray, like used-up chewing gum. A sourness tinged Amber’s musty bouquet that Trish would have recognized even without Uukati’s interpretation.

Fear. Despair.

“No. Oh no.”