The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Ben!”

Sophie was the first to greet him as he stepped back into the room. She had that look she always had when she’d been hovering. She’d always been a hoverer. Waiting for grades to be posted, waiting for the headshots Lin took of her to develop that one time, hell, waiting for the popcorn to finish popping in the microwave. Ben could tell how anxious or excited she was by the size of the circle she paced and how quickly she finished a lap. He wondered how fast she’d been going just now, and felt flattered, then guilty, at how much she was worried about him.

At least she wasn’t curled up in a ball anymore. That’s progress right?

Relief washed over her face, and the sight of it returned some life to Ben’s weary limbs. But that relief morphed into shock when she actually got a good look at him, and that felt like a punch in his gut. He’d gotten an idea of how much he’d been changed on the walk back, but her reaction, and the looks from everyone else, solidified it.

Sophie just couldn’t pick up her jaw. She had always thought Ben was cute. But now he was hot.

The last, stubborn traces of his acne were gone, leaving perfectly smooth, mocha skin. His runner’s body had gained definition, standing a little taller, shoulders a little wider. Still not to Max’s level of musclebound bulk, but more like a gymnast or dancer, the kind who could pick up and spin and throw their female dance partners around like they weighed nothing. With his suit just as tight as ever, she could see every...

Her eyes flicked down. And they stayed there. She tried to drag them back up, she really did. But the effort had no effect other than to redden her cheeks. Sophie’s gaze remained magnetized to the bulge, a bulge that was even more impressive than that morning.

“I’m... I’m glad you’re a-alright...” she said, pretending to be looking at the floor.

Trish followed behind her, strolling up leisurely with her hands on her hips. She did a lap around him. “Whoa,” she said appreciatively. ”Nice.”

Even Jenna and Max, cuddling on one of the cushion-seats, sat up and took notice. Max’s gaze was distracted, almost haunted, kind of like when they’d all first woken up. Jenna looked a little tired herself, but with strangely contented glow. And sitting alone at the table, Lin betrayed no particular reaction, besides a slight furrowing of her brow. But the fact that everyone stared was telling.

“Better than alright,” Ben said, grinning a little sheepishly. He didn’t usually like being the center of attention like this, but it felt kind of good. “Optimal, you might say.”

“Only you would say that,” Lin replied.

A gentle caress of mental attention tickled all the human brains in the room; the telepathic equivalent of clearing a throat. Uukati was still standing in the doorway.

This will conclude the testing for this activity cycle. I hope your experiences have further allayed any fears about the testing process. As you can see, none of you have come to any harm.

The alien gestured to the hygiene chamber with a dainty hand. In addition to the water fixture, there you will find a dispenser for nutrients. The formula has been specifically tailored for the needs of your human physiology. In addition, we will soon provide a period of nocturnal dormancy. This will last approximately seven and a half of your hours, at which point the next activity cycle will begin and testing will resume. Please enjoy your rest.

Satisfied, she inclined her head and left.

“Sooo, anyone else hungry?” Trish said. A round of affirmatives bounced back to her.

“I’ll grab it.” Lin stood up sharply, and hurried over to the amenity room.

While everyone else sat down at the table-thing, Ben looked around. “What did I miss?”

“Not much,” Trish said, stretching and yawning.

“They took Max again,” said Jenna. She leaned on her boyfriend and took his hand in hers, worry plain on her face and in her voice. “Not long after you. He’s been kind of out of it since he got back. Doesn’t remember what they did to him.”

Ben wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw Max blush. Maybe the poor guy was still beating himself up about letting Jenna be taken earlier. Or he was embarrassed to have Jenna doting on him now. Jenna’s doting was known to make him blush, on occasion.

In the other room, Lin opened a cabinet door that hadn’t been there earlier, and found their food. It came in six thermos-sized canisters made of a clear plastic. Whatever was inside was some kind of brown-gray goop. It would be a juggling act to carry them all herself, but at least it distracted her from the love birds. And she didn’t mean Jenna and Max.

“This is so fucked...” she muttered, gathering the canisters in her arms. Ever since Trish and Jenna had gotten back from their turn with the aliens, they’d been acting weird. Exchanging knowing looks and dreamy smiles, giggling and blushing whenever they got close to one another. It had gotten even worse after Trish had come out of Jenna’s room after “checking on” her. It wasn’t hard to figure out what they’d done in there. They reeked of it.

Lin didn’t think that Trish had taken advantage of Jenna or anything like that; Jenna was a big girl, and if she’d finally taken Trish up on her long-standing offer for a girl-girl fling, then whatever.

But Lin was starting to get the feeling that everybody else was more interested in fucking than they were in fighting back against their scumbag alien abductors. Every time she tried to bring up the subject, the resounding response had been opting for the “wait and see” approach. Like they were all just willing to sit back and trust that the aliens set them up with an all-expenses-paid fuck-vacation for a while, and would drop them back on Earth at the end of it. Well maybe that was true, but would any of them be the same afterward? For all she knew, Trish and Max had been drugged out of their minds, while Ben and Jenna were now perfectly sculpted pod-people.

Not to mention, Sophie’s going to be an even bigger wreck now that her crush is built like a guy from the cover of one of her trashy novels.

Putting back on her indifferent face, her porcelain mask, she returned with the meals and dumped them on the middle of the almost-table. “Eat up.”

“Oh my god, I’m so hungry!” Jenna said. She barely gave the sludge a second look before popping the top off and putting it to her lips. As far as room-temperature alien nutrient pastes went, it wasn’t that bad. There wasn’t much of a scent or flavor to it, and only a faintly earthy aftertaste. But after swallowing, she was surprised by just how good it felt hitting her stomach.

Probably doesn’t hurt that it’s the first thing I’ve eaten all day that wasn’t mostly sugar.

Seeing that Jenna wasn’t immediately poisoned, everyone else tried theirs in turn. No matter what misgivings they had about the goop, hunger quickly had them all drinking down the odd protein shakes, Max and Sophie sipping at them while Ben and Jenna guzzled theirs.

“Really hits the spot,” Ben said, slamming the empty canister down. “Whatever they did to me, it sure burned a lot of calories.”

There was a tiny, choked cough, and everyone turned to Sophie. She instantly retreated behind her dark bangs, cheeks burning. “Hrrg... Sorry. This stuff is... ahem... function over form.”

Once she wrangled the food-slurry back down the right pipe, she glanced up and noticed the lights dimming ever so gradually.

“Guess it’s lights out soon,” she said. The six friends finished eating, said their good nights, and one by one returned their rooms. All except Jenna, who doubled up with Max, to the surprise of no one.

As Sophie laid her head on the soft bed-surface, she stared up into the dark ceiling, trying to picture a night sky spread out before her, and wondering which of the stars she’d gazed at only last night might be zipping by her that very moment. Her hands rested on her satiated, suit-clad stomach, and she sighed.

I wish they hadn’t fed us right before bed. I always get the weirdest dreams if I eat before bed.

There were no distractions here. Just the barely-perceptible hum of the facility’s systems, masked by Uukati’s own breathing. She took in another lungful of steadying, sterile air.

For ease in telepathically monitoring their subjects, the Interpreters’ quarters were in the section nearest the human habitat. In some regards, it was not dissimilar from where the humans were kept: a circular chamber, with an adjoining room for attending cleanliness and other bodily needs. There were, however, no separate rooms for their private use. When the sharing of most thoughts and feelings was both instant and casual, the sharing of a living space was a trivial concern. Human notions of privacy simply didn’t apply.

There was also far less furniture. No desks or tables, for those were tools of labor and belonged in the laboratory. No decorations or ornaments, for Interpreters strove for intellectual efficiency, and eschewed extraneous stimuli outside of designated recreation. No beds, for they did not sleep, at least not the way many species did. Overseer and Researcher alike possessed only a few personal effects, and a single padded, reclining seat for rest and meditation.

Uukati sat in hers, alone, eyes closed, breathing deeply, letting her senses expand.

The Overseer had told her of dreams. Warned her, more accurately. Many species slept, but he had told Uukati that humans were unique in the vividness and surreality they regularly experienced each night. Bizarre visions and bewildering nonsense, fears and desires and memories, all couched in metaphor and symbolism; according to Ilaandu, it was intoxicating just to observe. Even unconscious, these humans were so fascinating.

She wanted to see it for herself. To her delight, the Overseer had assented. While he remained in the lab and collated the day’s data, she would be studying their dreams, monitoring them for additional insights into their subconscious urges. Pride swelled in her emotionspace at the confidence he was placing in her.

There.

Slippery things, like creatures wriggling at the bottom of a cave puddle. They were human minds, asleep, unfettered by their conscious awareness. Unfocused, helpless, and blind. But full of incredible potential, and growing in strength. The food they digested was packed with all the nutrients, enzymes and hormones their bodies would need to sustain them through another day of testing. Even moreso, if Uukati allowed herself to second guess the Overseer’s calculations. He had been insistent that their libidos be properly fueled.

One by one, Uukati grasped carefully for the humans’ minds, feeling the shape of them as they slept. She found them surprisingly malleable in their infancy, a swirling mass of raw sensation and unconnected data yet to settle into a coherent experience. It was so potent, she had to withdraw, lest she disturb it, or even be swept into it. The Researcher was to observe and monitor, not interfere. If the Overseer was pleased with her findings, he might devise a more... interactive suite of tests.

Uukati took another centering breath. Where to start...

“Aww, who do we have here?” Darlene said, her voice lilting with the sing-song of warm affection. She was wearing her book-club best: pencil skirt, loose, floral blouse and an outfit-completing glass of wine swirling between her painted fingers.

The woman beside Darlene looked over the brim of her glasses, raising an imperious eyebrow at the pet in question. Professor Gardener always had the look of a stern librarian, but never more than when she was sizing someone up from behind those chic spectacles. In lieu of wine, she ran her nails along the edge of a wooden ruler, as though sharpening them on it. “He doesn’t seem remarkably well-trained.”

Max whimpered at the attention. The sun warmed and breeze caressed his naked body, exposed for the entire party to see. There were so many women here. Powerful, well-dressed, eyeing him with hunger. He felt like a baby deer surrounded by wolves. Each and every one of them stared at him with a knowing twinkle in their eyes.

They knew. They all knew. Somehow, they had found out what he thought of them. How he fantasized about them. And now he was being presented to them, on the porch of his parent’s beach house, at a fancy soiree held in his honor. His cock throbbed and drooled even as his face burned.

“Does he do any tricks?” said a leather-clad dominatrix. Even though her video was indelibly burned in his mind, Max had never learned the porn star’s name. He had deleted the clip immediately after he’d jerked off to it, and could never bring himself to look it up again.

There was a tug on his collar. The sudden yank on the chain startled him out of his paralysis and into action. It wasn’t a specific command, but the message was clear to him all the same. Perform.

Max couldn’t help but drop to his knees and crawl over to the nearest woman. He kissed his way up Darlene’s high-heel-clad toes and tanned legs, and up into her skirt. The cougar wore no panties. He lapped and lapped at her until the chain yanked again.

The Professor was his next judge. Max started by massaging her calf through her nylons, adding his tongue and dragging it up and up. She stopped him before he could follow her heady scent to its source.

“Beg,” she said.

Max whimpered again, unable to stand it. “P-P...”

The chain yanked.

“Please!” he cried. Professor Gardener gripped a fistful of his hair and rammed his face into her crotch. On and on it went, Max pleasuring the gorgeous objects of his shameful lust. Some cooed and some disciplined, while others commented on his performance or his physique or his endowment. Like some prized animal on show.

Max never thought to glance backward and see who held his leash. He didn’t really seem to care.

There was nothing quite like the feel of a woman.

All of them were sensuously soft in most places, and some were deliciously firm in others. Each woman had a subtly distinct texture to her skin, and every muscle told a unique story. Trish often boasted to her classmates in kinesiology that she could tell what sport someone played five minutes into a massage.

Not that she ever mixed business with pleasure. Trish would never dream of groping her way through a sports medicine degree. But when she finally did get a woman under her hands in a recreational capacity, it gave her a supreme appreciation for every last crease and curve. And when it came to the tactile topography of the female form, there was no specimen on Earth that compared to Jenna Miller.

Step one was sunscreen. Safety first, after all. Jenna wasn’t as pale as Lin or Sophie, but she would still burn to a crisp out here if she didn’t get a good coating. Trish glanced up and gave the blazing sun a silent thanks for the excuse.

With a crooked grin and greedy hands, she spread the white lotion over the contours of Jenna’s back. Deliberate at first, to make sure every inch was covered. But once she was sure that Jenna’s creamy skin was protected from ultraviolet damage, the pretense fell away. Her fingers traced along the spine, feeling every bump, unhindered by even a bikini string.

Wish I could’ve lured her out to a nude beach years ago. This is so fuckin’ rad! Trish didn’t even spare a glance for the other beach-goers, knowing that there was nothing to see around her that could possibly compare to what she had in front of her.

When her fingertips reached the crack of Jenna’s firm, perfect ass, it earned her a giggle from the goddess laid out on the towel. Trish couldn’t keep her smile from growing. She moved both hands up to Jenna’s shoulders and started the massage proper. Slow, sensuous, the way a woman like Jenna deserved. This was an experience Trish was going to savor, and one that she would make sure Jenna enjoyed just as much. Maybe. Trish was going to enjoy it quite a bit.

One by one, the muscles of Jenna’s back melted under Trish’s expert hands. Knots were soothed away and sighs were teased out. And the lower Trish went, the deeper and throatier her friend’s sighs became. More like moans, by the time she was working the last lumps of stiffness out of Jenna’s calves.

Trish let out a contented sigh of her own. The ocean salt on the breeze tickled her nose, and she could pick up traces of feminine musk. Her own, and Jenna’s. And a faint whiff of honey.

Closing her eyes, Trish lowered herself onto Jenna completely, cuddling the soft, warm body she had so lovingly relaxed.

Darkness. Flashing lights. A bass thumped, and Lin’s heart quickened to meet it.

All around her were bodies, jerking erratically in the stop-motion of strobe lights as they danced and writhed. She tried to weave between them, bumping into more than a few as she crossed the dance floor. It wasn’t the first rave she’d ever been to, but it was by far the most crowded.

Normally Lin would pass on parties like this. She liked the goth style, the black clothes and makeup. She even liked most of the clique from high school, but she didn’t really go in for these kinds of events. It was one thing to express herself, but she wasn’t about to get caught up in the drugs or delinquency like some of the others. Her parents would have made her life hell if that had happened, and it was a bit late to develop a taste for it now that she was in college.

How did I get here? Lin couldn’t remember, and decided she’d rather leave. She looked for someone she knew, but couldn’t find any familiar faces in the mass of dancers all around her. In fact, she couldn’t find any faces at all. Everywhere she looked, she saw hands, backs, and hair. All moving to the music, pressing in around her through their sheer numbers. Sweat was beading on her forehead from the sweltering heat of so many bodies in such close proximity. Her clothes felt sticky and stuffy. It was enough to develop a spontaneous case of claustrophobia.

Lin tried to shout, but couldn’t hear herself over the throbbing music. Another raver hip checked her for her trouble. She put her her hands to catch herself, and they slapped into a bare back. Apparently someone else was feeling stuffy too. Lin looked around and found with every strobe of the light, another article of clothing disappeared from a body near her. Soon, all the black fabric and leather melted into perspiring skin.

Is this a rave or an orgy? Her question was answered when she saw their muscles start to flex and undulate, hands groping and nails digging into exposed flesh. They were fucking each other, all around her, even as they danced. When had that happened? Lin tried to push through them, but the ravers wouldn’t part for her. The harder she tried, the tighter the walls of horny humanity crushed in. She was trapped. Every thump of bass and flash of lights sent her head spinning. Too... loud... in here... Too hot... Have to... get...

With her pleas drowned out, she tried her fists, pounding on the back of the nearest naked raver. That seemed to finally get someone’s—anyone’s—attention. He twisted his neck, and Lin was met by a smooth, shiny visage that reflected the strobing lights back into her eyes. It was a mask of polished white porcelain, with the muted features of a mannequin, lacking any holes to see or breathe. And yet Lin could tell he was staring straight at her.

More heads turned, taking notice of Lin without slowing their fornication. Each one with the same mask over their face. Instead of their face.

Lin touched her fingers to her own cheek, but felt nothing. It was numb. Hard. Smooth.

She wasn’t sure if she simply couldn’t hear herself scream, or if her lips refused to move as the naked ravers buried her under a pile of crushing, fucking bodies.

A harsh shove sent Sophie stumbling, and set the chains of her manacles jingling.

“Sorry!” she whined, but it earned her nothing. Meaty fingers gripped her bicep and lifted her back to her feet, practically tossing her up the gangplank. Gulls cackled overhead.

It had been a long day at the slave markets, loud and smelly and hot. Sophie had watched as the other chattel were auctioned off, one by one. She had been the last. Of course. Gold coins with the likenesses of emperors piled high for the other women. Sophie was paid for with goats and chickens, one form of livestock for another. Her new owner, an old-world reaver of dusky skin and wiry muscle, dragged her back to his ship, barking and laughing in his harsh, guttural tongue.

When at last she collapsed on the deck, the bustling activity of the sailors around her came to a halt. Each paused what he was doing to take note of her, then they looked to their captain. Sophie didn’t understand his jovial proclamation, but the cheers and the sparks of hunger kindling in their eyes told her all she needed to know. Work could wait. It was time for a treat.

The scant rags that covered her were torn away first, followed by the shackles. Sophie hazarded a glance up, but the faces of her captors were obscured by the glare of the sun overhead. All she saw were their predatory grins, and their loincloths falling away. Tearing her eyes down, the waif dug her nails into the deck, focusing on the grain of the wood. She was trembling.

But not from fear.

The first sailor grabbed her by the hair, lifted her head up, and plunged her mouth down on his cock. It was hard as the wood beneath her knees and salty as the sea-spray whipped up by the breeze. The second slapped her ass and hoisted her hips up. Fingers tested her, and found her wetness practically dribbling forth. He made a salacious comment, and another cheer went up. Then he mounted her.

Sophie moaned like an animal around the member in her mouth. In response, hands clamped around her skull and drove her head bobbing even faster. Her eyes rolled up in her head, tears leaking down her cheeks. It was all perfect. Just perfect.

In moments she had a mouthful of cum and saliva, enough that some gushed out and splattered on the deck. She gasped for air, and before she had a chance to beg, another cock filled the vacancy. The thrusting hardness in her cunt was sending shock waves of toe-curling pleasure up her spine at the same time. So good. So close.

The sailor rutting her pulled out and painted her ass and back with his seed, then disappeared so the next in line could take his place. Although she’d been on the cusp of an orgasm, the break in the rhythm had been enough to send Sophie back to square one. Her whimpers of frustration turned to grunts of fresh joy as the men built her back up again. They weren’t treating her like some delicate little wallflower. They were treating her like property. Fuckmeat. They were ravishing her. They couldn’t help themselves, and she couldn’t stop them. She couldn’t be awkward and shy and shrink away from how much she loved it. She had no choice. It was okay to be a slut when you had no choice.

By the time all the men were spent, Sophie was a panting mess of sweat and spit and semen. The only thing that could have made it better was if they had made her climax as well, but she wasn’t about to complain. Going to the edge over and over had set her body aflame with a heady, electric euphoria. She didn’t even resist when the sailors picked up her limp body. They pitched her overboard, into the shallow surf. To rinse her off—she hoped, as the warm water enveloped her—for another round.

“Captain’s log, stardate minus three one seven, four seven three point nine. I have continued to evade capture by the authorities of the Pleasure Planet, but the rest of my crew have not been so lucky. Since their leader lured us into their trap, I’ve been cut off from communications with the ship, and fled into the coastal jungles. If you get this distress call, reply on an inverse carrier wave. I’ll be monitoring for it, but I won’t be staying in one place for too long. I can’t risk them triangulating the signal. Please, help us. Captain Thompson out.”

Ben closed his communicator and stuffed it into the pocket of his Starfleet uniform. Not that there was much of it left. The ladies down in Engineering would have loved it, seeing their captain’s uniform in tatters and so much of his bare chest on display. They might have gotten the chance, too, if the Pleasure Planet had lived up to its reputation.

This mysterious world had been the subject of many rumors in the back rooms of trading posts and deep space stations, not to mention the locker rooms of the academy. It’s climate was said to be temperate in some places, and tropical in the rest. It’s landscapes were renowned for their beauty and its people famous for their peaceful, carefree lifestyle. And, as the rumors went, their... relaxed cultural view of sexuality.

But Ben had never actually met anyone who had ever been there, and now he was starting to see why. The Planet was isolated, by their own choice and by stellar geography. Far from any trading partners, forbidding visitors and exporting only salacious gossip, everything about it was a mystery. It had been a shock to hear that they had suddenly requested diplomatic contact, and had been exciting to be the ship selected for the job. At least until the delegation was ambushed moments after beaming down. Gynoid soldiers had surrounded them, firing green beams from their phaser-like weapons. Set to stun, apparently, because in seconds, the team of bright, hand-picked officers he’d brought along were rendered catatonic. He’d barely managed to escape into the alien jungle.

A sudden thrashing from the underbrush snapped him back to the present. They’d found him.

Ben sprinted away from the noise, ducking as green beams struck the trees around him. He didn’t know how far he ran, or for how long. He just knew that they were gaining on him. When his legs were finally burning too much for him to go on any longer, he burst from the rain forest and onto a sandy beach. A gorgeous beach, of soft, white sand and crystal clear blue water. The kind that would match up against any beach in the galaxy, where the ladies from Engineering could catch glances of their captain’s chiseled body while he enjoyed some well-earned R&R.

Cold metal claws seized his arms and spun Ben around. Though he struggled, there was nothing he could do to break the gynoids’ grip. Ben had fought Klingons he’d stood a better chance of overpowering, and he’d have preferred their sneers and snarls to the gynoids’ impassive expressions.

“Let me go!” Ben shouted in futile defiance. He tried to come up with a plan, anything he could do to escape and regroup, but all his academy training and experience as a starship captain came to naught. Why haven’t they stunned me yet?

He didn’t wait long for the answer. Two more gynoids parted the leaves, and a chrome-plated throne drifted onto the beach, hovering a few feet above the sand. Upon which sat the terrible tyrant of Pleasure Planet.

“I finally have you, Captain Thompson,” said Queen Uukati, with a cruel leer curling the corners of her thin, lipless mouth. “I must admit, this chase has been stimulating sport, but it’s over now. You are mine.”

“What have you done with my crew! Why are you doing this?” That was the one thing that had been vexing Ben the most about this whole affair. The Queen had attacked a diplomatic mission unprovoked, and betrayed all the ideals of civilized cooperation. He just wanted—needed—to know why.

Uukati only laughed at him, and lifted a ray-gun. “Don’t you know, primitive beast? Humans make the best sex slaves in the entire galaxy. So stupid and horny, so easy to control with a little bit of technology and the promise of pleasure. You and your crew will fetch a high price, and they will love every minute of it.”

“Never!” Ben spat, but his eyes were locked on the barrel of her weapon.

“We’ll see,” the Queen replied, and pulled the trigger. The beam struck him, and Ben’s mind was drowned in vivid light. It wasn’t the green he was expecting, however, like the rays that had knocked out his officers. It was raw, scorching red.

She was warm.

She was floating.

She was dreaming.

That itself was unusual. Jenna wasn’t much of a lucid dreamer. She rarely even remembered her dreams, let alone realized she was experiencing one. But there was just something not quite real about the dim space her awareness now occupied. Gradually, some sense of her body came to her, and she understood it was curled up, suspended in some kind of viscous fluid.

With effort, she forced her eyes open. There was a diffused light all around her, but it was ruddy brown, blurry and murky. Veiny. Like she was still looking at the inside of her eyelids, even when they were already open. She willed herself to reach out, but her hand wouldn’t respond with anything more than a twitch.

That was alright, though. She was safe and warm here. It was just a dream. Jenna could just float in the womb-like space and enjoy the pleasant buzz building in the core of her being. It kept growing, expanding outward, and she wondered what would happen when it filled her completely. Something wonderful, I bet.

There were other sensations too, though. Impressions that were gaining clarity, drifting closer like motes of dust in the air. She turned her awareness outward toward them. There was something so familiar...

Those are other minds. The realization came with the same clarity as the knowledge that she was dreaming. Like the gentle tidal pull of distant stars orbiting around her perception, Jenna felt them calling out to her. She willed herself outward and they grew closer, clearer. Tiny, brilliant balls of vibrant emotion and experience, throwing off lazy flares of second-hand thoughts that grazed against her consciousness.

They were so close, she could just reach out and touch them, and then she would know the wonderful communion of understanding. The bliss of joining a hive mind, as the Concert had shown her. Giddy at the prospect, Jenna found the strength to move her arms, and took hold of those loose threads. Experiences trickled back into her through them.

Hands massaged her back, rubbing something oily into her skin and pressing her relaxed body deeper into the sandy towel beneath her, even though Jenna knew she was still floating alone in the warm ooze. Deep, throbbing beats pounded into her ears and reverberated down to her toes. Brilliant crimson flooded her vision like the roaring heart of a furnace. The scent of wine and sweat and desperation tickled her nose. Her tongue swirled in her mouth, tasting a blast of saltwater, but she grinned as she detected the faint aftertaste of cum lingering beneath it. Naughty.

All these pleasures belonged to other dreams and other dreamers, but Jenna yearned to draw them closer. Closer to herself. Closer to one another. Then everyone could experience it all in perfect togetherness. The link was already there. Jenna didn’t bother wondering why, because this was all just a dream.

A wet dream. One that’s about to get even wetter.

With chitinous fingers, Jenna grasped the threads and pulled.