The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Sole Survivor

By Stub

mc mf ff md in sf

Chapter 4 — Safe From Harm

I was crawling through darkness.

One second I was knee deep in sludge, hardly able to move my arms or legs, the next, I was naked, inching my way through corridors of broken glass. Distorted memories flooded my brain: aliens, and hard concrete, and loneliness stretching on for days. Of hours spent in lunatic conversations with my shadow, wondering what I would find when the lifeless maw of my self-made prison finally vomited me back into the world. Of the cold fear gripping me as my last chemlight faded and died. Of the terror and mad adrenaline at swallowing that final bite of food, followed by days of gnawing hunger. Of despair latching on to me and not letting go…

I woke, screaming and thrashing under the thin blanket. My naked backside slid off the air mattress. I was shocked back to full consciousness by the cool roughness of the concrete floor as it scraped across my ass, and abraded the sensitive skin of my scrotum.

Cursing, I looked around. Oh. Fuck. That’s right…I was back in the fucking bunker.

There was certainly a lot more light inside my concrete box than there had been last time; I’d made sure to bring plenty of electrical and chemical lights for our brief stay. Even so, the distress of waking up to the sight of those hauntingly familiar, stained concrete walls gave me a momentary panic attack. I looked around frantically until I located the reassuring bulk of two grey storage bins and a large red cooler, stacked off to the side. I’d brought more than just lights this time…

Oddly, while I sat there on the concrete floor, my dick started to feel cool. I looked down and saw that I was actually semi-hard, and the end of it was shiny with moisture. I smiled to myself as I noticed the lump under the blanket, and the shapely tan legs hanging off the bottom of the mattress. Pulling back the cloth revealed a naked Lulani, lying on her side, waiting for her next command. I realized that my lovely “alarm clock” had been trying to get at my cock while I’d been in the middle of that nightmare. I looked at my watch, and sure enough it was 6:00 am.

It had been exactly 11:59 pm last night, when I pulled the door on the shelter closed, and spun the wheel to seal it. In truth, the alien ships wouldn’t arrive for sixteen more hours, and midnight was an arbitrary starting point when you consider time zones throughout the world. Still, it had given me a goal to work toward.

I’d questioned Lulani about when the alien ships came during each of their previous appearances, and she’d confirmed that it was around the same time of day each of the five times. It took about four hours for the alien grid to form completely, and she remembered the noise and the jumping vid signal happened in late afternoon here on the island, just after four.

The last time I’d sealed myself in this place, all of this alien crap was brand new, and I was, to put it bluntly, shitting my pants in panic. I know the way I wrote it down earlier looked like I was all cool and collected, but seriously, who wouldn’t experience pants-shitting fear in that situation? So I had packed in a hurry, and I’d prepared to stay as long as possible—meaning I brought mostly food, and didn’t consider anything in the way of creature comforts.

This time, however, was going to be completely different. Those 46 days in here with no news, and nothing else to do, had left me sitting and dreaming about what I should have brought with me. Now, knowing what I did about the environment in here, I’d say I was more than prepared.

First of all, I hadn’t been limited by what Lulani and I could carry. I’d unpacked my cargo carrier, which was a metal contraption that could convert from something resembling a two-wheeled hand truck, into a four-wheeled cart. It wasn’t powered, but the wide wheels made it easy to use on rough terrain.

I’d unloaded two of my winter storage crates—piling the parkas and gloves on the bed—then static-attached the composite boxes to the cargo carrier, and filled them from my mental checklist. I had fresh fruit, and coffee, and a bed, and toothpaste, and real toilet paper, and…well, lets just say I over packed for the trip.

We left Survivor at about 11:30, and even pulling the cart, had little problem getting to the shelter. I helped Lulani inside and gave her the 30-second tour, then set her to unpacking the bed. At the same time, I personally set up every light I had, moving them around the main room until there were no shadows left anywhere.

Clothing wasn’t really a necessity here, since the below-sea-level shelter stayed at a constant twenty-six, only a couple of degrees cooler than the surrounding Pacific. I’d brought light clothes and thin blankets, more for psychological protection against the abrasive concrete environment, than for any temperature reasons. Lulani had a dress, sweater and shoes if she needed them, but every time I asked her if she was cold, she told me with all of her sincere, mind-controlled honesty, that she was fine staying in the buff.

We were going to be in here for around thirty hours: all through Thursday—the day of the alien ships’ return—and then into the next morning. I didn’t plan to stay awake the entire time, so in order to keep our sleep rhythms constant, once we had our basic camp set up, I’d wrapped myself around Lulani and gone to sleep.

Now that I was awake, though, it was time to start working on Lulani’s conditioning. I wanted to see if I could break her from her dependence on normal behavior. I didn’t have a real game plan, and that bothered me. The only thing I could come up with was giving her commands until I hit on the right combination. Hopefully, I could chip away at the aliens’ conditioning enough that Lulani would return to something approaching normal.

That was pure speculation, of course. Everything to do with the alien control was one big science experiment; all I could do was keep my eyes open, and try to minimize the side effects. Lulani, for good or ill, was going to be my guinea pig. It might backfire horribly, but I needed data if I was going to be the big hero and save the human race.

Yes, I’d decided sometime yesterday—while I was working on analyzing the alien broadcast signal in fact—that my goal for the future wasn’t hiding out on obscure Pacific islands until I was killed or mind-fucked by these alien invaders. I was ready to take on the entire Chrxjthal horde…even if I couldn’t say their damned name out loud without choking.

I was pretty sure that, somewhere in the world, there were other people like me. The way the control mechanism worked left too many gaps; too many ways that someone could avoid the aliens’ influence. If I could hook up with these other people, maybe we could find a way to fight back.

That meant eventually I needed to leave Kili Island. I needed to know what life under alien rule was like in the “real” world; the world where millions of mind controlled humans went about their normal behavior all squashed together in a city. I needed resources, and knowledge, neither of which could be found on a tiny speck of coral and sand in the middle of nowhere.

I couldn’t go anywhere, though, until the pulse-ships had completed their maneuver. While I waited, I needed to see if I could take one beautiful, naked teenager, and free her mind from the slimy extraterrestrial tentacles that imprisoned it.

That is, if the aliens were slimy and tentacled…I really had no idea. Jeffrey once said that they were “beautiful to look at,” but in the last three days I hadn’t viewed any transmissions that might have shown their picture, so I couldn’t judge for myself. For all I knew, they were space-warthogs, and it was the mind control that made everyone see them as beautiful.

So I put “find picture of an alien” on my to do list for when we got out of the shelter.

While I went to use the facilities, and get dressed, I had Lulani start breakfast. By the time I came back to the main room, she had a pot and a skillet in use, and I could smell the island staples of fish, and coconuts. The two-element self-contained stove was on the floor, and she was squatting next to it, adding ingredients and stirring as needed.

She looked so graceful and natural doing this basic task in the nude, I wondered why I hadn’t gotten other women in the past to cook for me like this. I mean, I’d woken up on occasion to find last night’s bed partner making breakfast in nothing but an apron, but those were random occurrences. And more often than not, I was the one up early, making breakfast in nothing but my boxers. The way Lulani was acting for my benefit, because I told her to, had my dick swelling as I stood there watching.

There was a true, primal energy in having this power of command; I could easily see how a megalomaniac could run wild with control like this. I don’t know why I hadn’t yet.

Actually, I think I did know why. It was both my logical nature, and my weird brand of hybrid empathy. I’m really kind of a strange duck if I do say so myself. I was raised in privilege. I’m an overachiever. I’m smarter than the majority of those that I’d met, before they all became drones. And I know that all of these traits can lead me to act like a complete asshole. But at the same time, I understand where I fit. Or rather, in my self-centered way, I understand where others fit around me. And I try really, really hard not to lie to myself. I know some people think it’s bizarre that I was the only one to survive the alien invasion intact, but maybe it’s my odd nature that made me perfectly suited for this “destiny.”

At work, I always considered the opportunity cost of any decision I made: by choosing to do one thing, what was I giving up by not doing a different thing. It was a balancing act. With money and resources, my logical self told me where to go, but with people, I’d somehow developed a different set of criteria. Before the Blue Meanies, I never would have exchanged someone’s freedom for my pleasure. I put so high a value on my own freedom, that I couldn’t justify devaluing someone else’s, no matter what the gain was for me.

Now, however, I had seen first hand what “freedom” meant for the rest of the planet: repeating an endless loop of previous actions. Even the orgasmic pleasure that I had seen on the faces of Lulani’s family had been transitory. They were like actors, reciting the lines of some erotic play. The pleasure may have been real in the moment, but when their next normal behavior kicked in, all of that bliss was immediately set aside.

All of which led to the justification that I wasn’t dealing with “people” any more. Giving Lulani commands for my pleasure was not denying her something valuable that she could be doing instead. Dragging my “slave” into a concrete bunker with me, and then standing there getting a hard-on while watching her work for my pleasure, somehow seemed better for her than letting her live a meaningless life on endless repeat. I felt sorry for her, so I gave her orders.

I thought about how twisted that statement would have sounded this time last year. But then I thought about losing my own free will—becoming one of these mindless puppets—and realized that I now fit into this world differently than before. Previously, I had been one man among 8.7 billion. I was 0.000000011494 percent of the potential on this planet. But now my value had increased quite a bit. As a result, opportunity cost said that I would use as many resources as I needed to keep myself from being controlled; including sacrificing the entire population of mind-wiped automatons. Better that they die in the struggle to free themselves, than just grind themselves into extinction.

Another good business principle was that a manager delegates lesser tasks to his workers, so he could concentrate on the bigger picture. As my worker robot, Lulani would cook, and clean up, and swallow my cock occasionally, so that I could try to keep the aliens from destroying the human race. I wondered if that was a fair assessment, or if it was a blatant rationalization just because she was in front of me, naked, and so entirely fuckable?

As if she knew I was thinking about her, Lulani glanced up to look at me…and I could feel my dick start to deflate almost immediately. The zombie stare she gave me while methodically stirring a pot, had me feeling decidedly un-aroused. Which, really, was sad for the both of us. It would have made my entire week to have her look up, see me there, and smile. But until I somehow unlocked her brain, I was stuck with a wind-up doll instead of a companion.

Well, I’d get started on that right after breakfast. I filled a coffee mug with water, inserted a pod into the bottom, and twisted the base to start the brewing process. Then I cursed at myself for knowing so little about my naked chef…

“Lulani,” I said, “what do you normally have to drink with breakfast?”

She turned around to look at me. “It depends on the breakfast.”

“What about a breakfast similar to the one you’re making now?”

“I normally have orange juice, and approximately every third time, I have coffee,” she said. With her interaction complete, she turned back to the pots on the cooker.

Feeling better after finding out that little bit of trivia, I started another mug for her. We didn’t have orange juice, so coffee would have to do. I stood, watching her cooking, and enjoying the real-food smells that she was creating. It was certainly better than the ever-present seawater and mildew stench that I had lived with for so many days in this hole.

Breakfast started with hot cereal made with coconut milk and cinnamon, topped with sliced banana and papaya. Then came a frittata with chunks of white fish, onion, and potatoes. It was turning out that Lulani was a spectacular cook.

After breakfast, I checked my watch, and it was just past 7:30. So we still had eight and a half hours until the alien ships did their thing. While Lulani cleaned up, I made another cup of coffee, and walked around, checking out every corner of the shelter for probably the three-hundredth time in the last 49 days.

I tried to imagine the military unit that constructed this place over eighty years ago, and the nightmare it would have been to engineer. They’d buried it deep into the volcanic rock of the island, and lined every wall with over a meter of concrete.

The main room that we were in was decently large, probably ten meters on a side. I’d dubbed it the Living Room when I’d been here earlier. The ceilings throughout the shelter were low, maybe less than two meters. The huge steel vault door took up part of the south wall. It looked like there used to be rows of shelving on the north and east walls, but all that was left were the pockmarks in the floor where the bolts had been ripped out.

Two doorways led out from opposite sides of the room. The west door led to a room about half the size of the Living Room. I’d called this the Bedroom, since it looked like it once held rows of bunk beds. Through the Bedroom was the Latrine, which was exactly what it sounded like.

The doorway on the opposite side of the Living Room led to a couple rooms I’d called the Workroom, and the Pantry. The Workroom was the same size as the Bedroom, and had a couple broken tables, and an old rusted bench vice jumbled in a corner. The Pantry was the main storeroom—probably three times the size of the Living Room—empty now except for its rows of concrete columns.

These five rooms had been my home for 46 of the last 49 days of my life. I’d paced out each dimension of each room, dozens of times, to find the limits of my space. I had 525 square meters of floor area at my disposal. 1,050 cubic meters. Over one million liters. I could fit Survivor inside the shelter exactly three and one-third times if I chopped it up and squeezed it into all the right angles.

All of my calculations were right there, scratched with a rusted piece of metal into the grey and green concrete wall of the Workroom. Some of my other calculations—my later work, when things seemed really hopeless—included estimates of how many breaths I could take before using up all the oxygen, if the air system failed (217,340), and how thin a layer I would need, to paint the floor using all my blood (0.0095238mm). It had not been an easy time in here.

I wandered back into the Living Room. Lulani was standing there, looking at nothing, waiting for her next command. My heart really went out to her at that moment: what a shitty way to spend the rest of your life. “Lulani, go to the Latrine, use the toilet if you need to, wash up, then come back here. Put your dress on, and leave it on until I tell you to take it off. Do you understand?” She nodded, and headed off through the doorway.

I unfolded a campstool, and pulled one of my storage crates into the center of the room. I dragged the cooler over, and moved it between the two makeshift chairs to serve as a small table. Eventually, Lulani came back. She looked as fresh as ever, even in the harsh light of chemical lamps and electric lanterns. She’d brushed her long hair, and was wearing the same blue dress she had on the first day I came to the island.

“Sit there,” I said, pointing at the campstool.

She sat, in what I was coming to think of as her “waiting” pose: feet on the floor, knees together, hands in her lap, head up, and eyes on me waiting for her next command.

I wanted to get her talking like a normal person. She needed to be able to volunteer information, and have opinions if she was going to be any more than a robot. Within the bounds of her normal behavior, I could only think of one way to get her to behave like I wanted.

“Lulani,” I said, “I’m your best friend, and we’re talking like we always do. Tell me about your life in the year before the Chrxjthal arrived.” Hopefully that was specific enough, and yet open-ended enough, to get her talking.

The change in Lulani was astounding, and I mentally kicked myself for not thinking of it earlier. Right in front of me, she changed from a beautiful, sexy, frozen doll, to a cute, still sexy, animated young woman. Her posture relaxed. She smiled. She crossed her legs and put her hands on her knee, kicking her foot up and down playfully. All because I told her I was her friend.

I was such an idiot, approaching everything in the last two months like an engineering problem. But then again, how was one supposed to approach an alien invasion? Eight billion mental zombies running in place on a mind controlled treadmill? You certainly don’t approach it by acting like the best friend of a sheltered teenage girl. Lulani and I were so far apart in almost every aspect of our former lives, I could see how, even from the beginning, I had dismissed her as someone to be either controlled or ignored. Now I was finding out that I didn’t know everything.

“So why do you want to hear all that?” she said. “You know all about me.”

It was nice to hear her clear soprano echoing off the walls, rather than my scratchy, mumbling baritone. I realized at that moment though, I had no idea how to talk to a teenage girl on her own terms. Lucky for me, I didn’t need to convince her of anything, I could cover any mistakes with direct commands. “Just ‘cause it’s interesting, Lulani,” I said.

“Puh-lease, you know I hate that name.”

“You don’t like Lulani? I think it’s beautiful. What do you like again?”

“Lani. You know that. Only my parents call me Lu-lani.”

Only your parents and old perverts like me, I guess. “OK, fine. But tell me about your year. Are you in school?”

“Well, yeah. Not right now, of course. But I finished freshman year at Hawaii. I made Dean’s List, too!” She gave me a huge smile. I’m not sure women understand the kind of effect they can have on men. OK maybe they do. When a woman smiles like that, looking right into your eyes—especially after you’ve seen her naked, and done…other things with her—it bypasses the brain, and goes right to the groin.

Telling myself to calm down, I returned her smile. “That’s so great,” I said. “What are you studying again?”

“Just general ed stuff right now, but I’m majoring in chemistry.”

I guess I needed to revise my opinion of “little Lulani.” She must have graduated early from high school, and was on her way to a science degree. Well, at least until Blue Thursday, and the alien control. Now she was on her way to being either a hamster on a wheel, or some old guy’s fuck toy.

“That’s so cool. But…how do you do your chem labs, here on the island?” I asked. Maybe she had access to scientific supplies that I could use.

“Well, it was all sim, ‘cause they were, like, just lower level classes.”

“What about next year?” I asked.

“What about…what?” she asked back.

“Are all your labs next year going to be sim as well?”

“When?”

“Next year,” I replied. I couldn’t figure out why she was stalling.

“I don’t understand,” she said. Ah, but I was starting to…

“What are you going to do in September, Lani?”

“Keep doing my normal behavior. C’mon, you know that.” She gave me another bright smile.

So she wasn’t even allowed to think about the future? I guess that made sense. Thoughts about the future would conflict with performing her set routine. Clever little alien bastards.

I continued my conversation with “Lani,” as she now preferred to be called, until well past noon. She had an interesting life, even living on this remote island with just her family.

It turned out that Jeffrey was a former city planner who had worked in the Philippines until Lani was ten. Amata had been a middle school English teacher. Lani had no idea why they’d suddenly packed up and moved to Kili, but supposedly they had permission to be on the island.

All the kids were home-schooled by both parents until they reached high school, when they started their net education. Lani had graduated in only three years, and was accepted almost immediately into the University of Hawaii’s Remote Degree Program.

Aside from her brothers and sisters, she had some friends on other islands, and was constantly chatting with them on her bedroom vid system. For the last few years, every time her father had taken the boat to the other islands, Lani had gone with him to see her friends. She also had new friends from her college classes, but she hadn’t made it to Hawaii.

At home, she loved to read, cook, draw, write stories, and dance. She’d started getting curious about sex around age 14, which was when her mother had noticed her net searches and started training her to “help” her father. When Malie started getting the same urges, the two had started talking, and that’s when they’d begun their own activity.

Although she talked like a young woman, Lani had flashes of maturity that surprised me. It was really too bad that I couldn’t ask her anything about the future; for her, it didn’t exist. Talking to her like a friend—seeing her as an animated, funny young woman—had me smiling and laughing too.

I checked my watch, and saw it was 1:20. The metallic egg-ships had already started appearing in the sky. In less than three hours, the planet would be bombarded by another wave of alien energy.

I hadn’t even touched Lani’s conditioning yet, but I was getting hungry, and a little cramped from sitting so long. I told her to start on lunch. Almost immediately, the friendly young girl was gone, replaced with the old robotic version; the magic of my last command had been broken by a newer one.

I grabbed two bottles of Coke from the cooler, opened one, and set the other on the crate I’d been using for a seat. Taking a sip, I watched her put together a soup of some kind, and pita bread sandwiches with ham and a white cheese.

After lunch, we were again sitting, facing each other.

“Lani,” I said, “I’m your best friend, and we’re talking like we always do.”

“Well, yeah,” she said.

“So how long have we been friends?”

“Oh man, since as long as I can remember.”

“So you remember? When did we first meet?”

“Um.” She bit her lip, and her forehead wrinkled in concentration. “Maybe when I was younger? ‘Cause I don’t remember exactly. Didn’t you know my parents from before?” She shrugged. “All I know is I remember you being my friend.” Then she hit me with another one of her stunning smiles.

I guess inserting a new normal behavior didn’t rearrange the whole brain; it just overrode the logic behind not remembering. That wouldn’t allow me to rely on creating a new reality for her based on false memories. Plus that wouldn’t get me around the lack of spontaneous thought. This system that the aliens created was just too thorough; too complex.

So, my engineering brain asked, is there a way to simplify it? Isn’t that what I was supposed to be good at—taking complex systems and boiling them down to their cores to find the flaws? Was there some magic bullet like the “friend” trigger that I’d discovered earlier? I needed a way to open up huge chunks of behavior with a minimal amount of instruction.

Several times in the last few days, I’d thought of just going for it, and commanding her to be normal. I think up until now though, I’d been too worried about ruining something, including Lani’s mind. Being in the bunker again had really brought me into focus; I couldn’t play it safe, even if it might hurt this sweet young teenager. I’d seen too many projects bogged down in testing and research, and never moving forward. Well, if ever there was a time for forward momentum…

“Lani,” I said, then waited until I was sure I had her full attention. “You no longer rely on your normal behavior to tell you what to do. You will use your memories—all of your memories, not just those from before the Awakening—to remember why you did things, not just the fact that you did them. You will think about the future, and what you want to happen beyond this present moment. All of your actions will be based on your own motivations, not on routine. Say yes if you understand.”

She looked at me for a long time without saying anything. I thought maybe I had come up against a block in her conditioning that stopped her from processing such a broad command. I was about to ask her a question about it, when I saw her mouth moving.

“Ah…ah…ah…” She was trying to say something, but couldn’t. Then suddenly, her eyes rolled up, and she collapsed forward onto the concrete floor.

I was at her side in an instant, cradling her head while her body shook with a seizure. I only had a vague notion of what to do in a situation like this, other than to keep her from hurting herself. I was holding her head from hitting the floor, but there wasn’t much else I could do while she was convulsing.

After about thirty seconds, the violent shaking stopped, but she was still trembling. I lifted one eyelid, but her eyes were still rolled back. Her breathing was shallow, but her pulse was strong.

Her heels and elbows were abraded from thrashing around on the rough concrete floor, so I picked her up in my arms and carried her to the mattress. Laying her down gently, I covered her with the thin blanket.

I put my hand on her forehead, and it felt unusually hot. When I stood up to go to the cooler, my legs were shaking. Probably because I was coming down from the jolt of adrenaline I’d received when Lani collapsed. I grabbed the dishcloth hanging over one of the tubes on the cargo carrier, and soaked it in cold water from the cooler. Going back to Lani, I wiped her face with the cool cloth, then laid it on her forehead.

In my head, I was kicking myself for doing this to her. It’s not like she volunteered for that little experiment; I’d just blurted out a few words, and bang she was in a coma. I had no idea what to do for her now, other than wait. If she recovered, I could find out what happened. If she didn’t…

I hovered over her for another five minutes or so, until her trembling stopped. Her breathing was easier, but she was still hot. My leg started to cramp from squatting next to the mattress, so I stood up to stretch. I went to wet the dishcloth again, and brought the campstool back with me to sit on.

Time slowed to a crawl as I sat watching Lani. Her skin felt hot and dry, which didn’t seem right to me. Weren’t fevers supposed to cause you to sweat? I tried dripping some water into her mouth, but when she didn’t swallow, I got worried about her choking and stopped. Mostly though, I sat on the stool and waited.

Eventually I looked at my watch, and saw that I only had ten minutes left before the alien pulse happened. Leaving Lani for a minute, I went to check the vault door. It looked reassuringly tight, with the locking wheel turned all the way to its stop.

I checked the room for anything else that might be out of place, until I realized that I had lived through five of these EMP events already, without doing anything special. Obviously, the shelter was protection enough that I didn’t need to worry. And yet, my eyes couldn’t stop darting around, wondering if there was some flaw in the defense.

I remembered that I had spent most of the time during my earlier incarceration huddled near the door. Maybe it would be prudent to do everything the same this time. I grabbed the air mattress, with Lani still resting on it, and dragged it the five meters to the door. She didn’t react at all. Getting on the mattress, I laid down at Lani’s side. I checked the cloth on her forehead, and it was still damp, but her strange fever showed no signs of going down.

We lay like that for about an hour; the young girl in a coma, and the old guy too petrified to leave this corner of the room. Eventually, though, I talked myself into believing that the alien pulse had already happened, and that I had survived it one more time. I got up off the bed to soak the dishcloth again.

Other than her breathing, she wasn’t moving. I couldn’t figure out what to do next. I really didn’t want to open the door for at least another hour, just to be sure. But even if I did leave the shelter early, where would I go? There were downsides to living on an isolated, nearly-deserted island, and access to emergency medicine was one of them.

Say I got her to her parents’ house, what next? A boat ride to Majuro Hospital, where the staff probably wouldn’t know what to do? Then another five hours on a flight to Honolulu before she would be in a top-notch hospital. I just wasn’t sure how health care had been affected by the alien conditioning. If the doctors had never seen this kind of condition before—if it wasn’t in their normal behavior—they wouldn’t know how to treat it, and would never be able to learn.

I looked down at her beautiful face, and laughed at my earlier resolve to sacrifice billions of drones to the cause if that’s what it took to overthrow the aliens. I couldn’t handle the unexpected loss of even a single person. All of my arguments about the value of my freedom versus that of a controlled person seemed hollow now.

For once in my life, I didn’t have a plan. These fucking aliens had backed me into a corner, and I had nowhere to turn. Feeling helpless and depressed, I laid down on the mattress next to Lani. I put my hand on her chest, just under her breasts, so I could feel her breathing, and then I just waited.

I must have fallen asleep for a while. Something woke me up, and I sat up quickly to see if Lani had recovered. She looked about the same, relaxed, but unmoving. I checked my watch, and nearly six hours had passed.

I put my hand on Lani’s forehead, and her skin didn’t seem as hot and dry as before. Of course, not being a doctor, I couldn’t be sure what that meant. She looked peaceful at least, lying there like some island version of Sleeping Beauty.

Seeing that she didn’t need anything immediately, I got up and went to the Latrine. When I came back, I rummaged through the cooler and found the remnants of the sandwich fixings from lunch, along with another bottle of soda. I grabbed a bag of chips and the campstool as well, and headed back to where Lani was.

Setting up next to her, I ate quietly, listening to oldies from the chip player I’d brought. I was just washing down my first sandwich when I heard a rustling sound. I looked at Lani, and she was moving, ever so slightly. It didn’t look like another seizure, or the trembling she had gone through earlier. It looked like someone waking up from a peaceful night’s sleep.

I dropped everything, and knelt down next to her. Her forehead felt cool. I took her hand, and watched, until three or four minutes later, she moaned, and opened her eyes.

I hadn’t realized that I was holding my breath until it suddenly came out in a rush.

“Lani,” I said softly. “Lani, how are you? Are you all right? How do you feel?”

At the sound of my voice, her eyes locked onto me. “Alex? Baby?” she said in a dry voice. She started coughing.

Baby? I helped her sit up, then gave her a sip of my Coke, since it was the only liquid nearby. After some more coughing, she took another sip. She eventually pushed the bottle away from her, and then looked up at me. She showed me one of those dazzling smiles, just like from earlier, and I could feel the tension and anxiety drain out of me.

“Oh, baby, I missed you!” she said, wrapping her arms around my neck, and pulling our lips together.

I had absolutely no way to respond to that.

She had locked her arms around me, and was kissing me fiercely, trying to force her tongue into my mouth. I was stunned for a few seconds, then managed to pull her arms off and push her back.

“Lani, stop,” I commanded.

She froze in place. I put her hands down to her sides.

“Lani, just hold on,” I said. “Tell me what’s happening. How do you feel?”

“I feel great!” she said, more animated than I’d ever seen her. “Waking up to find you here was just…awesome! I was having these great dreams, and you and I were…you know…” She blushed and looked down for a second. “Then I wake up, and you’re here! And I just love you so much!”

She moved like she was going to grab me again, but my command seemed to hold her in place.

She loves me? The mind-controlled drone who gave me that zombie stare just a few hours ago now loves >me? I think some questions were in order…

“Lani, listen to me. I want you to calm down. How do you feel physically? You’ve been unconscious for over seven hours.”

“Really? Well, I feel OK. Maybe a little headache. And I’m thirsty…” I got up and started heading toward the supplies. “And hungry…” she called after me.

I watched her while I filled a water bottle, and grabbed whatever food I could find that didn’t require cooking. She never took her eyes off me the entire time. As I walked back to her, her smile got bigger with every step I took. When I got close to her, I waited to see if she was going to pounce on me again, before I sat on the campstool and handed her the water. After she took a couple sips, I handed her a protein bar, and she bit off a big chunk.

“Lani, tell me what you remember from earlier today,” I said.

She finished chewing and swallowed. “Umm…well, it’s a little fuzzy. We came into the shelter, and then we went to sleep for a while. I remember you had your arm around me and it felt sooo good.” She smiled at me again in a lovesick kind of way that had me wondering again what happened. “So then we had breakfast, and we sat and talked for a long time. Then we ate lunch and…I don’t know exactly. We started talking again, but I don’t remember what we said.”

“So, what about yesterday? What do you remember about last night?” I said.

She blushed again. “Well…we did some…stuff. You called it a “sixty-nine,” I think. And then Malie joined us for a little while, after she was done with Mama and Papa.” She looked up at me. “Are we going to do that again tonight? I’d love to suck on your…thing, again.” Her eyes shifted from my face to my crotch, and I saw her hand sneaking under the blanket covering her lap.

This was getting bizarre. Lani had gone from mind-controlled drone to full sex kitten while in a coma. And she claimed she loved me. She was acting on her own, telling me what she wants, and talking about the future; all of which would be impossible under the concept of “normal behavior.” I had to assume that my command to ignore her normal behavior worked, but why had it knocked her unconscious?

“Lani,” I said. She looked up at me expectantly. “Bark like a dog.”

“Woof. Woof. Woof. Wo—”

“OK, that’s enough.”

She stopped barking and smiled at me, never questioning what I had made her do. So it seems that I still had the power of command. And she wasn’t locked into her normal behavior any more. But where had this abject devotion come from?

“Lani, tell me what you know about me,” I said.

“Other than I love you like crazy, and I totally belong to you?”

“Uh…yeah. Other than that.”

“OK. You came to Kili a while ago, just before the Chrxjthal arrived, and you told us that they were coming before you went into the government building. And then we didn’t see you for a long time. When you came by the house that day, you looked like a real mess. It was really cute.” She smiled, and when she saw that I was looking at her, rather obviously thrust her chest out toward me.

“Then, um…oh, yeah, I went to your boat to get some thread, and you asked me to come in and suck on your koko. Then I went and got some food from home, and when I came back, we slept together for the first time! I really loved snuggling up with you. Then, the next morning we—”

“OK, Lani, that’s enough,” I said. “What made you think you’re in love with me?”

“Because I am! I don’t know why. Love is just...it just is.”

“Well, so when did you first know that you were in love with me?”

“Pretty much the first time I saw you.”

“And so, why did it take you so long to say it?”

“Because…hmmm…I’m not sure,” she said. She frowned slightly, but then her smile came back. “But that doesn’t matter, because I’ll say it over and over, so everyone in the world can hear it.” She tilted her head back and lifted her arms in the air. “I love Alex…wait,” she said, looking back at me. “What’s your last name again?”

I smiled. “It’s Drummond.”

“I love Alex Drummond!” she shouted to the empty room, her voice bouncing off the concrete walls.

I was still a little in shock from everything that had happened today; Lani’s seizure, her recovery, and the complete personality change she had gone through. The thing that was causing a completely different reaction from me though, was the way Lani’s young tits bounced in her dress as she threw her arms up in the air.

Seeing where my eyes were, a sly smile formed on her face. Throwing back the blanket that was covering her knees, she got to her feet and turned away from me. “Gotta pee,” she said as she headed for the Latrine. With every step, she swung her hips, causing her skirt to swish, and her ass to churn deliciously as she walked away.

When she vanished through the doorway, I started moving everything away from the corner, and back into the middle of the room. By the time she returned, I was sitting on the same storage box I had used earlier this morning.

I encouraged her to eat and drink some more. As I watched her eat, I realized how relieved I was to have an actual person to talk to. It was going to be so nice to have a companion in the days and weeks ahead; someone I could have a spontaneous conversation with. I certainly didn’t miss the old mind-controlled Lulani-robot.

“I think maybe we should head back to Survivor tonight,“ I said. “What do you think?” I wanted to test how spontaneous she could really be.

She stood there for a moment, thinking, then walked over to where I was seated. “I think that I love you, Alex Drummond. That I belong to you.” She grabbed my hands and pulled me up off the crate. “I think that I want to be with you forever, and that I want to please you, and serve you.” She pulled me to the air mattress. “And I think that I want to give myself to you right now, right this second, not after we get back to the boat.” She dropped my hands and practically threw her dress off. Then she stepped up to me and lifted herself on her toes to give me a kiss.

Well, I guess this new version of Lani could be plenty spontaneous. I was concerned though, after all she’d been through today. I had no idea how much toll that seizure and subsequent coma had taken on her. I wanted to be cautious and let her rest. But when she came into my arms like that, all of my concerns fled. Well, not really, let’s just say they took a back seat to other “concerns.”

Part of my plan for our trip to the shelter had been to take Lani’s virginity. Before, it had been something for me; something that she would have done because I commanded it. Now I had a new version of Lani to deal with; one who had the capability to want something for her own, and the capacity to remember it, and appreciate it, after it was over.

While I’d been busy rationalizing, Lani had grabbed my hard cock through my shorts and was rubbing it up and down. She had a hand on my shoulder, keeping her body close to mine, while her tongue darted around my lips and into my mouth. Finally giving in, I reached around to grab her ass in both hands, and lifted her up against me. Her legs wrapped around my hips, and her arms circled my neck as she clung to me, never interrupting our kiss.

She was as light as a feather. I could have carried her around all night, but instead I kneeled down and lowered her gently to the mattress. She immediately went to work on removing my clothes, tugging my shirt over my head without unbuttoning it. My hand cupped her firm tit, rubbing her hard nipple with my fingertips.

Her hands were working at my belt, then pulling down my shorts. My cock sprang free, and she instantly wrapped it with her small hand. I kicked my shorts completely off, then moved up onto the mattress with her. While she continued to pump my shaft, I let my hand drift down, across her flat stomach, and into the curls surrounding her virgin pussy.

I could already feel moisture leaking out of her, coating her hair and my fingers. I teased one finger down the length of her slit, and gently probed her opening. I could feel the thin ring of stretched skin that made up her intact hymen. Working my thumb onto her clit, I started the gentle process of getting her ready for the main event.

I certainly wouldn’t have a problem with her being too dry; her newfound “love” for me came with the benefit of making her very wet. She moaned into my mouth as I worked my hand in her crotch.

Eventually she broke away and made a move down my body to go after my cock. I didn’t want to interrupt my own activities, so I lifted her hips up—practically bench-pressing her slim body—and settled her down so she straddled my head. Her tongue was already swirling around the head of my dick, and as I put two fingers back into her stretched hole, she swallowed half of my rigid pole and sucked hard.

I got my fingers deeper inside her, moving them from side to side gently. I raised my mouth up, into the soaked, fragrant field of her dark hair, and probed my tongue through her curls until I found her swollen clit. My first contact with her sensitive button caused her to scream around my shaft, then go right back to sucking and licking my swollen cock head.

At one point she showed me that the command I had given her days ago was still in effect, when she forced her mouth down and lodged my cock deep in her throat.

I kept attacking her clit with my mouth and driving my fingers deliberately into her pussy. I even soaked a finger in her wetness, and ran it over the ridges of her crinkled asshole. The humming noises she made around her mouthful of cock got louder, and her hips started bucking on my face.

I continued relentlessly, until she squealed, and her whole body tensed. I felt her channel gripping at my fingers. Her thighs quivered as they squeezed my head. She pulled her mouth off my tool and laid her head down on my stomach, panting heavily. I pulled away from her sensitive clit and kissed the insides of her thighs while she drifted back down.

When she had recovered a little, I tugged her around so she was lying on top of me, and I could give her a kiss. She was straddling my hips, and started rubbing up and down on my hard dick, while smothering my face in kisses. She gasped when the slick shaft finally worked through her curls and right into the crease of her soaked pussy. She started riding me like a crazed cowgirl, trying to grind her clit into my pole with every down stroke.

I put my hands on her hips and started guiding her motions, bringing her further and further up my cock, until the head finally popped up and lodged in her opening. I thought this would be the best way for our first time, letting her control the action so she wouldn’t get hurt.

She had other plans though. She jerked forward to dislodge my dick, and rolled off from me, onto the mattress.

“No,” she said. She lay back on the bed and opened her legs. “Like this, Alex. I want you to take me. Make me yours.”

First of all, I was shocked that she said no to me. Secondly, how could I refuse an offer like that? I covered her body with mine, spreading her smooth thighs with my hairy ones. I was on my elbows, nose to nose with my lovely teenage island girl, as she reached down between our bodies, and grabbed my hard dick. She rubbed it up and down, soaking the tip with her moisture, before lodging it in her virgin channel.

I wasn’t sure if it would work, now that she wasn’t mind controlled, but I wanted to help her if I could. “It won’t hurt, Lani,” I told her. “This is going to feel wonderful.”

“I love you, Alex Drummond. I’m yours forever,” she said. Her hands reached up to grab my ass, and she pulled me in…