The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

01 Lost It In Space

“And this is what you get! This is what you get!”

A stray audio signal—weak but getting stronger. The voice is female. There is a planet over there to our right but it looks kind of dead. The source is more likely to be a craft of some kind.

“Yeah, this is what you get!”

The signal’s still getting stronger. The source is definitely getting nearer.

There’s a large vessel over here to our left, but if anything it is moving away—and only quite slowly.

“’Oh, of course, Hendra! Of course I’ll do it! I mean if no one else will do it then of course I will! I’ll be your police force!’”

Ah! Just there: a smaller vessel approaching the larger one from our right. It appears to be losing velocity now. It’s still going to hit us though. But don’t worry: we’re not really here.

“I mean, look at me! Do I look like a cop? No, I don’t. I look like a fucking idiot with an armband—that’s what I look like. What I look like is the only fucking idiot who didn’t have the sense or the guts to say no. And doesn’t that make me the last person you’d want as your base cop? And this is what you get, right? This is where it gets you—not saying no. It gets you killed is where it gets you.“

“Please clarify, shuttle.”

That’s another signal, another female voice—synthesized. It’s from the larger vessel.

“What?! Oh shit! Nothing, nothing!”

The new voice is not satisfied with this gabble.

“Please clarify, shuttle.”

“Oh for...! Nothing, okay?! Nothing to clarify! Please ignore, docking station.”

“Ignoring confirmed. Thank you, shuttle.”

We’re inside the cockpit of the smaller vessel now—the shuttle. And it just so happens that I recognize this pilot. Her name is Jaqua Moon and she’s currently allowing herself the closest thing to a sigh of relief that she can manage. But don’t worry: she’d still be too stressed to notice us even if we were really here.

She hates flying. She hates all aspects of flying. But she reserves her greatest fear and loathing for docking. Docking is terrifying. Docking bay hatches are like slicing machines. Is she the only person who can see that?

She’s glad, at least, that it’s one of the female voices. She hates dealing with the male voices. It’s stupid, she knows; it’s just a voice either way. But still, if she has to make a fool of herself, she’d rather be talking to a female voice when she does it.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out how she ended up working on an all-women base.

She takes more time than she’s probably supposed to to check her instruments. To the extent that she dares to believe she understands them, they indicate that her shuttle is virtually at a standstill, and that she is within the requisite range of the target bay. But of course she has probably got that wrong. She has no doubt made what will prove to be a fatal error.

She allows herself another sigh. Sighing is good. Right now it feels like that’s the only thing that she can do well. But she knows she can’t put off the other stuff any longer—the stuff she can’t really do; the stuff that’s almost certainly going to kill her.

“Okay then.” She takes a deep breath. “Hello docking station.”

The pause is brief.

“Hello shuttle.”

It’s such a reassuring voice. The male voices are supposed to be reassuring too, but they’re not. They’re sarcastic. Is she the only person who can hear that? Thank fuck it’s one of the female voices.

“So, hey, docking station. How’d you fancy a little chat, to keep a dying woman company?”

There’s that pause again.

“Shuttle...?”

“Oh it doesn’t matter. Please ignore. Are you ready to initiate auto-docking?”

“Ignoring confirmed. Thank you, shuttle. Yes, shuttle, ready to auto-dock.”

“Just... Can you please just confirm that protocol 18.37 is supported? This is very important.”

“If you mean, shuttle, is revision 37 of auto-dock protocol 18 supported by this docking station, then yes, that is confirmed.”

“Thank you, docking station. Thank you. Then could you please initiate auto-dock using revision 37 of auto-dock protocol 18?”

“Auto-dock initiated, shuttle. You will have limited control of your vessel during docking. Docking will commence in thirty seconds.”

“Thank you, er, docking station. And, er, please don’t kill me, yeah?”

“Please clarify, shuttle.”

“Ha! Nothing. Please ignore.”

“Ignoring confirmed. Thank you, shuttle. Docking in ten seconds.”

Nothing happens for, well, ten seconds. Then the shuttle starts to rotate slowly around its horizontal axis. And it’s only when that stops that she can be certain that the shuttle has started to move towards the larger vessel.

The manuals say remain vigilant. The manuals say remain calm. The manuals say maintain audio communication.

But as her shuttle approaches the slowly opening outer hatch of the docking bay, Jaqua Moon—Police Officer Jaqua Moon—closes her eyes and screams. Fortunately, in space, no one can hear you scream—as long as the mute button of your comms unit is depressed.

02 Relief

Of course she wasn’t going to die. She knew that all along. Fate has a much more stupid death in store for her. Of course it does.

Still it’s nice to walk on solid ground again. It’s certainly better than being strapped into a shuttle in zero gravity. And it’s certainly better than being dead.

Of course this solid ground is floating in space, but then what solid ground isn’t, when it comes to that? And the gravity in the vicinity of the docking bay may not be absolutely convincing, but it will do, it will do.

It’s always like walking back to civilization. The doors get thinner and open and close more quickly. The corridors get a little longer. This one is the first to be carpeted. And though the walls are mostly plain, there’s a strip along each decorated with little icons that suggest that stick people like to exercise in a number of ways.

So it seems a fair bet that the ship is a gym. The number and variety of docking bays did suggest a leisure vessel of some kind. Plus there was a huge port for long-term connection to a space city.

Jaqua is relieved that it isn’t a brothelship. She wasn’t born to be a cop. She really didn’t want to have to tell a ship full of whores to move on. Mind you, a ship full of whores wouldn’t find much business here anyway. And a gym isn’t going to do any better.

The consensus on base was that they’ve probably got system failures and have just found a quiet spot for repairs. System failures would explain their radio silence. But whatever the story is, they shouldn’t take much convincing to leave.

So it is a relatively happy Jaqua Moon making her way slowly down these corridors. For now she can forget that today she is Police Officer Jaqua Moon, with the armband to prove it. For now she can forget that her ordeal isn’t over.

In that regard, she wishes that the corridors were just a little longer. In fact, she wishes they went on forever.

03 Reception

But they don’t.

And now she’s coming into a reception area, and it really does look like the ship is a gym. The reception desk and some turnstiles are just ahead to her left. From the look of it the large port for city docking is directly opposite the desk, on her right. This would be the point of entry for patrons visiting the gym on foot. The corridor continues on beyond the reception area—presumably leading to docking bays at the other end of the ship.

As she approaches it, the reception desk itself is deserted and for a moment Jaqua wonders if she’s the only living soul on board. But then a door opens and a woman appears behind the desk, and suddenly it is a ghost ship no more.

But it may be a skeleton crew.

The young woman is quite attractive, but she’s wearing no make-up, and her hair is a mess, and she has a cup of something in her hand, and she’s yawning, and it’s just possible that some of her clothing is sleepwear. In fact, this feels very much like being back on base.

“Oh there is someone—good. We got an alert we’d had a shuttle boarding but the systems are all to shit at the moment so... Anyway, hi.“

The woman smiles and puts the cup down so that she can hold out her hand across the desk. Jaqua says hi too and shakes the offered hand. She welcomes this informality.

The woman’s eyes have diverted to Jaqua’s armband. She doesn’t seem fazed.

“So what can we do for you—Officer...?“

“Oh, sorry, Moon—Jaqua Moon.”

“And I’m Sarah.”

“Right, hi Sarah. Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise. So, Officer Moon... I assume you’ve come from the planet?”

“That’s right, yeah.”

“We really didn’t know if it was occupied. The systems are so fucked at the moment that we wouldn’t have been sure there was a planet if we didn’t have—you know—windows and shit. The truth is that we don’t really know where we are right now.“

This is precisely the story that Jaqua was expecting—or hoping—to hear. She can handle this story. She can handle a respectable leisure ship with system failures. She can handle people who respect the rule of law. She can deal with bed hair Sarah here.

Suddenly she is the gregarious host. Well, kind of.

“Oh, well the planet is... well actually it’s unnamed. That seems to be the way we’re going these days, doesn’t it? I’d tell you the number but... yeah, I should probably know that, right? I mean I’ve only been living there for four years. But anyway, we have a small research facility down there—there are twelve of us. But apart from that the planet’s dead and unoccupied. I’m the designated cop for the base so, you know, when a ship turns up and fails to communicate...”

“Right, yeah, you have to pay us a visit. Sorry to put you to so much trouble. Like I say, we didn’t know there was anyone here, and most of the comms are down, so...”

“Oh no worries,” says Jaqua, managing to sound quite convincing on that point. “But I’m afraid there’s a little more to it than just the formality of a visit.”

“Oh. Right,” says Sarah, suddenly looking sufficiently concerned to make Jaqua almost feel like a cop.

“Yeah, erm, well, you see, our facility... well, it’s protected. Basically, you’re not supposed to be here. I mean, you’re not supposed to be here at all.“

“Oh. Right.”

“So, unfortunately... I mean, I don’t want to get all official, and heavy, and... you know. I mean, you don’t have to leave immediately or anything like that—not if you’re in repair. But, well, I will need to satisfy myself that you are who you say you are.”

Sarah smiles.

“Well, I’m definitely Sarah...“

Jaqua laughs.

“Yeah, I might need a little more than that.“

“You need a tour of the ship, right?”

“Well yeah, something like that.”

“I’ll call someone,” says Sarah.

04 A Gym Girl

It doesn’t take long.

“Ah, here’s Myla now.”

A woman is approaching Reception down the corridor opposite to the one Jaqua arrived by. Jaqua gets a vaguely familiar sinking feeling at the sight of her.

This Myla looks like a “gym girl”.

She’s about five foot six with blue eyes, shortish blonde hair, and a bronze body worthy of gold medals. It’s a body that would look good in tight black shorts and a tight black crop top. And so that is exactly what Myla is wearing.

Gym girls are a walking advertisement for the gym. Jaqua knows the deal. You arrive as a potential new member and suddenly the gym girl appears. And she flaunts her body in front of you while pretending she isn’t disgusted by yours. And she pretends to be interested in your life goals and in helping you to achieve them. Superficially the message is: join the gym and you could have a body like mine. But everyone knows the real message is: join the gym and I’ll almost certainly be your personal trainer, and perhaps your friend, and you can keep checking out this body forever, for just 40 credits per month.

But of course, if you do join the gym, the only place you’ll ever see the gym girl again is hanging around Reception. And they don’t want you hanging around Reception, not with your disgusting body. You’re not an advertisement for the gym.

Gym girls are really there to draw the men in of course; their magic doesn’t work on women. And that usually changes the dynamic somewhat. They resent their lack of power over women and that usually manifests itself as a mild contempt. But they reserve their deepest contempt for that smaller number of women on whom their magic does work. Because that’s just gross. Obviously.

“Hi there, babe! I’m Myla.”

Look at her: all smiles and friendly confidence, deigning to allow her hand to be shaken by a regular human. Yes, Jaqua is familiar with gym girls. That’s why she can feel herself sinking. She’s going to need her armband if she’s to stay afloat.

“Oh hi! I’m, erm, I’m a Moon. Er, Jaqua... erm, Officer Jaqua Moon. I’m pleased to meet you.“

Jaqua always feels inferior in the presence of these women, but the force is particularly strong here. As she reaches out to shake hands, Jaqua realizes that she has never seen anything closer to a perfect human than Myla. Still, at least she is managing a handshake, even if it seems she can’t quite talk like a member of the same species.

“Hi Officer Moon,” says Myla, making eye contact so firmly that it sends Jaqua’s eyes scurrying lower—down that perfect body... no, don’t stop there... no keep... Shit! Is that... camel toe?!

Jaqua has no idea what a camel is or was, but she’s sure she knows one of their toes when she sees one. And shit, that’s hot... That is shit hot. Why is that so hot...?

After lingering a moment longer than they should, her eyes come scurrying back up again, to where Myla’s crystal blue eyes seem to have been waiting for them.

“So Sarah tells me that you’re a base cop from the planet below.”

“Er, yeah, I guess I must be,” says Jaqua with the sheepish self-deprecation that cops are known for throughout the universe.

“Oh, well, sweetie, I’m so glad you’ve come!” beams Myla in full gym girl mode. “It’ll be really cool to be able to show someone around the facilities again! We’ve been having some technical problems, so it’s been a while.”

“Yeah, I’ve just been hearing about that.”

Myla isn’t just perfect, she’s really cute. In fact, she’s pretty much everything that Jaqua despises, all wrapped up in one perfect package. So perhaps it’s surprising that—in spite of herself—Jaqua has suddenly taken a liking to her.

“Well look, follow me babe and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Myla has turned and is walking back down the corridor whence she came.

Babe. That feels nice.

Jaqua can’t help but check out Myla’s pert little bottom. And since there’s no reason for them not to, her eyes remain locked there as she begins to follow, apparently being dragged along by her own gaze.

05 The Tour

It is a gym ship: no more, no less. Jaqua was already sure of that before she began following Myla’s bottom around. That’s one reason why she takes so little persuading.

The other reason is...

There’s something about Myla that is infectious. In each room they pass through—and there are many of those—she doesn’t just show Jaqua the equipment, she gives brief demonstrations of its use. And it isn’t just the usual treadmills, exercycles, rowing machines... For instance she even gives a very creditable gymnastic performance on the rings.

It might have seemed self-indulgent. It might have seemed self-absorbed. Worse, it might have been boring. But Jaqua doesn’t mind any of it. Myla’s enthusiasm for all of this stuff is infectious. And besides, Jaqua could watch Myla for hours.

Jaqua is enchanted. Jaqua is entranced. Myla’s body is a marvel.

Jaqua has never felt so attracted to another woman. She has in fact only rarely felt even remotely attracted to another woman—and certainly never enough to act upon it. She isn’t bisexual. But this attraction she feels towards Myla is different anyway. She feels that this attraction goes beyond man and woman, somehow. This isn’t about sexuality. This is about something else—she thinks.

Sure Myla is cute. But more than that, what she is is perfect. The attraction, Jaqua decides, is something to do with that perfection. It’s the perfection that has her in its spell.

That’s her first stab at an explanation anyway.

Her second stab comes at around the time she’s trying to work out how she could ditch her current job and come and join Myla, and watch her body forever. And that comes at about the time she’s watching Myla bench press.

Myla somehow manages to keep talking while she’s doing this: about the equipment and the muscle groups that are benefitting and how this is really good for your blah and your blah and your blah. Myla’s voice is quite deep but her speech here is interspersed with little grunts and groans, and these are higher pitched, and the effect is—of course—very cute.

And of course Jaqua has to pretend that she’s listening. And really she has no objection to looking at Myla’s face and upper body. But she does keep glancing down at the crotch of Myla’s shorts. And every time she does, something happens inside her that makes her want to glance down there again.

And then Myla starts to break a sweat.

And this is when the second explanation for the attraction really presents itself in Jaqua’s mind.

Myla has great abs—really, really great abs. And they look even better with little beads of sweat appearing on them, and then trickling down slowly over their contours. And...

Jaqua was right: this isn’t about men and women. No. This is about animals. This attraction that Jaqua feels towards Myla is an animal attraction.

And though this is really no explanation at all, it seems to bring a kind of peaceful satisfaction to Jaqua’s mind. It’s as if it’s okay for her to feel an animal attraction towards Myla because, while she may not be bisexual or a lesbian, she is undeniably an animal.

Perhaps, satisfied that it has solved this little puzzle, her mind has decided it can relax a little now, and has allowed itself to wander off.

Yes, perhaps that is what is happening.

Either way, Jaqua doesn’t arrive at any further realizations. Nor does she notice that the bench press is going on considerably longer than the other demonstrations. And she certainly wouldn’t object even if she did notice; she could happily watch this for the rest of her life.

While Myla keeps pumping, and the beads of sweat keep appearing, Jaqua finds herself sitting on something you’re probably not supposed to sit on, her head really quite close to Myla’s crotch. And though Myla is still talking intermittently, there’s no pretence anymore about what is holding Jaqua’s attention.

She doesn’t actually lean down and lick those beads of sweat off the perfect skin of Myla’s abs, though that is what she’d really like to do.

But as she sits there, entranced, she is inhaling deeply. And that seems to be the next best thing. In fact, it may be the best thing in the whole universe.

06 Stoned

Myla’s pussy. Jaqua is thinking about Myla’s pussy.

Two things are connected in Jaqua’s mind: Myla’s pussy, and the way Jaqua is feeling.

Jaqua is aware that the way she’s feeling is not how she normally feels. That she doesn’t really care about that—that she can’t care about it—is a significant part of the way she’s feeling. And part of the reason that she can’t care about it is simply that she feels so good, and so relaxed.

It’s a very pleasant feeling really, but there’s a kind of heaviness to it. The atmosphere feels heavy. It feels warm, close, humid. And when Jaqua thinks about Myla’s pussy, she thinks of heat and dampness; she thinks of a heavy musk. And somehow these two things—Myla’s hot pussy and this heavy atmosphere—have become linked in Jaqua’s mind.

And so when Jaqua thinks about how great she’s feeling, she thinks about Myla’s pussy. And somehow in her gently swimming mind she has started to believe that Myla’s pussy is responsible for how she’s feeling. Somehow, what she is feeling is Myla’s pussy.

Myla, working out in those tight shorts, working up a sweat. Hot, damp, humid.

Jaqua feels like her head is inside those shorts. What a wonderful place to be. Pressed up tight against that amazing pussy, inhaling deeply. Inhaling that humid air, feeling that warm dampness on her face, reaching out with her tongue to-

“Is there a slight thrum, sweetie?” asks Myla.

Her voice sounds dull and distant.

They’re not even in the weights room anymore. When did they...?

Myla’s inspecting Jaqua’s face. She looks concerned.

Shit she’s cute. She’s perfect. If only Jaqua wasn’t feeling so... so...

Hold on, what did she say? Is there a slight... what?

“I’m sorry?” says Jaqua, blinking, trying to clear the fog.

“I said is there a slight thrum?” repeats Myla. “A thrum, babe—a kind of pumping, humming sound.”

She reaches out to gently stroke Jaqua’s cheek. Shit that’s nice.

There was a question. Jaqua wants to provide an answer. She has to concentrate to try to pick out the hum that Myla is asking about. But it’s really hard because all she can really hear is this intense humming sound that’s rhythmically pressing so heavily on her ears and... Oh.

Oh!

“Oh yeah. Yeah, I can hear that.”

“You should probably lie down for a while babes,” says Myla. “Would you like to lie down on my bed?“

The words do cut through the heavy, near-solid air between them. They do cut right through the hum—and even the thrum. And a tingle does run down Jaqua’s spine.

But her expression doesn’t change. Or rather her lack of an expression doesn’t change.

It’s all she can do to murmur, “Yes, please. Thank you.”

Yes. That is all she can do.

07 Myla Does It Good

Myla’s bed is enormous. Jaqua is lying upon it—face-up and almost fully clothed—because Myla told her to do so and her mind is too fogged-up to distinguish between an instruction and a thought. Only her boots have been removed. Her socked feet are at the foot of the bed, but such is the size of this thing that her head is a good metre from the pillows.

It is into that space that the naked Myla clambers. She arranges the pillows such that she is neither lying down nor really sitting up. And having made herself comfortable, she opens her legs—wide.

There is no apparent odour, but Jaqua senses that pussy nearby. And it is by that sense alone that she turns over and moves herself straight to the source. And even before it is quite there, her mouth is open and her tongue is reaching out for the taste she craves.

For Myla, Jaqua is really little more than a sex toy—though perhaps the sight of that armband adds a little to her satisfaction. At first she is somewhat detached. Perhaps that is an act—a little role play to add to her pleasure.

But Jaqua’s hunger is deeper than most and Myla certainly cannot hide the extent of her arousal from that eager tongue. For each orgasm brings to Jaqua’s mouth a stronger flow of the exquisite nectar that it craves. And with each taste of the nectar, her craving for it deepens, and her tongue works harder for it: harder and harder; deeper and deeper. And so the orgasms grow stronger, and Myla’s affected air of detachment crumbles.

But perhaps that is part of her pleasure too.

08 The Thing

Myla has something in her hand. She’s putting it onto Jaqua’s head. It fits snugly. Even now—almost stoned out of her mind—Jaqua is sufficiently aware to realize that she could be in danger. But it soon becomes clear that the thing doesn’t do anything, and the relief sweeps through Jaqua like a warm wave of total relaxation.

09 Object Subject

The camera is looking at her foot. She knows that it is her foot even though it is bare and suspended in space—and she is neither. Jaqua has never liked her feet particularly—well who does? But from this angle, this foot looks rather dainty and feminine. It’s really quite a sexy little foot. And this is a good thing.

Now the camera is moving up her leg. Jaqua knows that on a good day, with the right skirt, and the right shoes, she has legs. She will allow herself that much. But from this angle... This is certainly a good look for her: naked and suspended in space. If people could see her like this, they’d want to fuck her, wouldn’t they? Could this be arranged?

The camera lingers at her pussy. Her pubic mound is surprisingly prominent. Maybe that’s because her legs are spread so wide. Perhaps it is swollen with arousal. It should be. It looks like a fruit, bursting with juice. Or perhaps it is reaching out, yearning for something. Jaqua thinks of lips puckering up for a kiss. In her dream—or whatever this is—her tongue is licking her own lips, but longing to be licking instead those lips, which are also her lips. But surely anyone would want to lick them. Or at least, they would if she’d had the hair removal done. Why has she never had that done? Who’d want to lick that hairy thing—apart from her?

It is surprising how flat her belly looks. And she has a waist! Really, this body is perfectly fuckable. And this is a relief. Perhaps, though, a little decoration at her navel...? And of course that belly could be even flatter and more toned, with regular work-outs. She could do that. She should do that. Why hasn’t she been doing that?

Ah, now, her tits, yes—her darling little funbags. No, they aren’t so big. But it has never really occurred to her to do anything about it—before. She can’t think why that is. They like them bigger, don’t they? And breast growth pills are everywhere. It’s not like she doesn’t have the credits either. Even so, what there is of them... She’s licking her lips again.

Oh not the face! No! She didn’t want to see this. She’d close her eyes if she could. But actually... Well it’s a flattering angle—that much has already been established. But no, she really does look... okay. They like them younger though, don’t they? She’s almost thirty now, and her skin is starting to look it. There are pills for that too, of course. Why hasn’t she been taking them? They say it can take about ten years off. Respectable people don’t, of course. But what do respectable people know? And since when was she respectable? Respectable people don’t get fucked—that’s the point. Maybe with fuller lips, say, she could stretch that ten years to twelve? Is that possible? Could she manage more?

She has been failing in her duty. It is clear to her now. It’s okay—she knows that. It’s fine. But she has been failing in her duty. This body—this chunk of flesh—has not been properly maintained. As much as anything it’s a failure of understanding. She has always seen this as her body.

But the camera doesn’t lie.

No, the camera does not lie.

Meat.

She is meat.

No—she is sexmeat. And she is hot. She is a fuckable chunk of sexmeat. But she could be even hotter. She could be even more fuckable.

This body, this meat, is hers to maintain. It is her responsibility, her duty.

But the sex... The sex... Well what is sexmeat without the sex? And the sex is... The sex belongs to...

Sex...

Pussy...

Myla’s amazing pussy...

This chunk of fuckable sexmeat.

The meat is hers to maintain.

But the sex belongs to...

The sex belongs to...

10 Suddenly Awake

Myla.

Smiling. Beautiful. Radiant.

They’re in a corridor. Jaqua must have been sleepwalking because... well, because...

Did Myla just say something...? She doesn’t think so.

Anyway, it’s good of Myla to walk her back to Reception—she’d never have found it on her own. So many corridors to wander off down by mistake, and they all look the same.

Still, here they are now. And there’s Sarah sitting behind the desk.

“Hi Myla! Hi Officer Moon!”

“Hi Sarah,” says Myla, casually.

“Hi Sarah!” says Jaqua, more brightly. And then she does a double-take.

Sarah’s shirt—if that’s what it is—is unbuttoned now, and though her nipples are just about covered, a very good portion of her sizeable tits is on display. And because her tits are on display, Jaqua has a good look at them.

It is funny to be called Officer Moon by a woman with her tits out like this. It’s hardly respectful. But Jaqua doesn’t mind. If Sarah is actually mocking the authority of Jaqua’s office as a cop then that’s fine by Jaqua, because no one here has less respect for the authority represented by her armband than she does.

But anyway, it doesn’t look like Sarah has her tits out for Jaqua’s benefit. No, it looks like she’s masturbating. Sarah has a really hot young body. And that’s a great pair of tits. It seems a waste to Jaqua that such a hot body is stuck here pleasuring itself. There must be billions of people out there who’d pay good money to fuck a body like that.

“Okay Jaqua,” says Myla, “You can find your way back from here, can’t you?”

“Of course,” says Jaqua, almost certain that even she can follow a succession of straight corridors from one end to the other. “Thank you for everything.”

Myla shrugs as if to say it was nothing. She is so cute. But that isn’t really the word.

Unable to stop herself, Jaqua quickly kneels down and starts greedily to lick Myla’s delicious pussy one last time, placing her hands squarely on Myla’s tight, toned, and naked bum cheeks—pulling them forward. But even now she doesn’t actually realize that Myla has accompanied her back to Reception completely naked.

The licking very quickly turns to full-on pussy eating.

Myla allows Jaqua the time she needs. After all, it is important that Jaqua’s need is fully sated. Perhaps Myla needs this too, though it’s hard to think of Myla having anything so human as needs.

Finally, looking up with her big innocent eyes, Jaqua says again, “Thank you. For everything.“

And Myla looks down and smiles.

“My pleasure,” she says.

She does have needs. And a need has been fulfilled.

And that is, indeed, a pleasure.

11 Back To The Lab

Being the base cop is just a sideline. Jaqua’s real role is that of lab assistant to Hendra. Being a mere lab assistant makes her the lowest of the low on base. But Hendra is the base leader, and somehow that elevates Jaqua’s status somewhat. That only works with the other base workers though. Here, alone in the lab with Hendra, Jaqua’s status is unambiguously low.

That’s not to say that Hendra dislikes Jaqua—far from it. Hendra is one of those rounded individuals who seem not to dislike anyone. She isn’t so very much older than Jaqua—indeed Jaqua is actually one of the older base workers. But in terms of emotional maturity, Hendra is decades older. Accordingly she takes her responsibilities as base leader very seriously. And thus, having identified Jaqua as an inexperienced, insecure, and frankly dangerously clumsy threat to the security of the base, she took her under her wing.

And so Jaqua became Hendra’s little project. Hendra sought out minor duties that she could safely offload onto her, with the dual intentions of boosting her sense of self-worth and keeping her out of trouble. Chief amongst these of course was the role of base cop. In theory that’s a big one, but in practice a base cop rarely has to do anything. That’s especially true on a tiny base like this one. The role usually amounts to no more than some weekly paperwork. And besides, no one else wanted to do it.

Finding room for Jaqua under Hendra’s wing may have started out as a case of keeping one’s enemies (however well-meaning) closest of all, but a certain fondness has developed in Hendra’s heart for Jaqua. That perhaps is why she has overlooked Jaqua’s failure so far to brief Hendra on her investigatory trip out yesterday to the intruding and incommunicative ship. It should also be acknowledged though that the fact that Jaqua returned—and returned alive—leads Hendra to suspect that there is only a banal story to be told anyway.

But procedure is procedure. Jaqua didn’t seek Hendra out after her return yesterday. Now twenty minutes have passed since they started work this morning. It is becoming clear that Jaqua is not going to fulfil her duty in this regard without a little prompting. So Hendra gently prompts her.

“So, I believe you flew out to meet our visitors yesterday?”

“Oh, well, yeah Hendra. I mean, you told me I needed to, so... I thought you knew that I was going.“

“Well, I knew that you were going, Jaqua, yes. And unofficially I even know that you went. And—by the application of a little logic—I know unofficially that you came back. But officially...“

“Oh. Right. Was I supposed to do something when I came back?”

“Well...”

“Sorry Hendra. I didn’t think.”

“No.”

“I erm... Do you need a written report or something?”

Hendra sighs. But she’s smiling.

“Just tell me what happened, Jaqua.”

“Well there isn’t much to tell. It’s just what we thought really. It’s a gym facility. They were transiting to a new city and they lost their systems. This was the nearest planet. In fact the ship brought them here itself; they’ve really no flight control at the moment.”

“So they’re in repair?”

“Yes.”

“And they know they can’t come down here?”

“Yes. I made that clear.”

“How many on board?”

“They said thirty but I only met a couple.”

“So you spoke to the captain?”

The conversation has been going quite well up to now but suddenly Jaqua has the horrible feeling that she may not have done everything expected of her yesterday. And that means that she may have to start lying now. Yes, that would be an idea.

“The captain? Well, no... I... enquired after the captain, obviously, but... well, the captain was busy... with the systems failure and everything...“

“So whom did you meet, Jaqua?”

Shit. This is going to sound feeble. She should have said she met the captain. Why didn’t she just say that?

“Well, just... I met the receptionist first, and then, er, Myla—she runs the gym.”

“The receptionist? Do you mean the gym receptionist?“

Oh shit...

“Yes. Well, she was at the reception desk. She may have just been a random member of crew. I mean, they weren’t really open for business, so...”

“Okay, I understand. But, so... Okay... this Myla—she’s the manager of the gym facility itself?”

Oh shitty-shit shit-shit...

“Er... well, yes...”

Hendra pauses.

“Oh, well that’s fine then. It would either be her or the captain you’d need to meet.”

Jaqua’s relief is hard to hide from Hendra. But then she has the feeling that Hendra was only teasing her anyway. Hendra knows how bad Jaqua is at protocol. Of course, Jaqua doesn’t actually know what Myla’s job is; she might not be the manager of the gym. But Hendra doesn’t need to know that.

“Did they give you an estimate of how long they’re going to be here?”

“Oh. Well. They really don’t know.”

Well, Jaqua certainly doesn’t...

“No? Okay.”

Hendra looks thoughtful for a while. And then she looks puzzled. She’s breathing heavily—through her nose.

“Are you wearing perfume or... something, Jaqua?“

“No, Hendra, of course not!”

Hendra definitely looks puzzled now.

“Did you wash thoroughly when you returned yesterday?”

“Yes! Of course! I had the full decontamination, space side.”

This is true. And Hendra believes it. Even Jaqua isn’t that incompetent.

“That’s odd then.”

“Are you saying I smell, Hendra?”

Jaqua’s question is delivered jokingly, but she knows that this is precisely what Hendra does suspect. And now—because it has been turned into a joke—Hendra doesn’t have to worry about causing any offence. She comes closer, openly sniffing the air, with no pretence that Jaqua isn’t her target.

But is she smelling anything?

Hendra has a sensitive nose. That’s important in pheromone research—not so much for the work itself as for the early detection of contaminants. Contaminants are bad news—the kind of bad news that you build an all-women research base on an otherwise deserted planet to avoid. Although, of course, there are other reasons for going to such lengths.

Hendra has decided that she isn’t smelling anything. And she’s slightly less worried now.

But she doesn’t stop inhaling deeply through her nose for almost a minute more.

And that’s probably a mistake.

12 Repeatable Results

Hendra manages another thirty minutes or so of work: first thinking she’s working, then pretending she’s working, and finally not really doing anything at all. Her focus is elsewhere throughout. Her focus is on Jaqua.

Hendra’s focus often has to be on Jaqua, and usually she would rather that wasn’t the case. But today she seems to be happy to have this distraction. Besides her focus today isn’t really on Jaqua as a person—a slightly inadequate and incompetent person. No, today her focus seems to be on Jaqua as... an animal.

Jaqua is sitting on the workbench, just a metre or so to the left of where Hendra is sitting—on a stool—not doing anything. Jaqua isn’t really doing anything either—not actively at least.

Hendra is still wearing her labsuit, but Jaqua has taken hers off. Indeed, Jaqua is breaking at least four rules of the lab right now, but Hendra’s mind is too fogged up to notice—or at least to care.

Besides, she’s glad that Jaqua is there. More to the point, she’s glad that Jaqua’s body is there. She just wishes it was a little nearer, but it is beyond her to be able to work out how to make that happen.

It should be said that Jaqua herself doesn’t really know what’s happening. Oh she knows that her body is doing something to Hendra, and she knows that that is a good thing. She even knows that if she opens her legs a little wider—like this—then the effect on Hendra will become a little stronger and a little deeper.

She knows all this. She even feels—somewhere, at the very back of her mind—that she made some kind of a mistake yesterday. And she feels guilty about that. But Jaqua is used to feeling guilty about things. She feels guilty right now because she thinks perhaps her legs should be open even wider. She feels guilty right now because she thinks perhaps she should be a little nearer to Hendra.

If she knew it, she might even feel guilty about the very real fact that these feelings of guilt are actually intensifying the effect. Or perhaps she does know that. Would that help, or make it worse?

Hendra meanwhile, feeling the intensified effect, and knowing that it is due to Jaqua opening her legs, makes a sound—somewhere between a sigh and a groan. Even now there exists a glimmer of a feeling that she shouldn’t want what she wants. But if anything that only adds to her desire for that thing. She needs to follow this desire to its source. She needs to feed this hunger.

Suddenly Jaqua knows that it is time for her to make her next move, though she was previously unaware that she had a next move.

“Hendra?”

Hendra’s response is little more than a whispered noise: “Hu-aaaah.”

“Hendra. I think perhaps you should lie down for a while. Would you like to come and lie on my bed?”

13 Fully Debriefed

Jaqua’s bed is not enormous, but it will do. They are both naked, Jaqua being something of a traditionalist in these matters—albeit a relatively inexperienced one.

She still doesn’t really know what’s going on. But with Hendra’s tongue eagerly mining her pussy, she does at least feel as though she’s doing the right thing right now.

Between orgasms she takes time to inspect her body for signs that the pills might be working. Her tits don’t seem any bigger yet. That’s not really surprising but it’s a little frustrating. She can convince herself, however, that the skin on her hands is already looking a little softer. Her hairless pussy looks pretty good too—though she has no recollection of having that done, or indeed of it ever not having been done.

She gives her tits a squeeze again and thinks about the improvements that are surely already underway.

“Sexmeat,” she whispers.

And that seems to hasten the arrival of the next orgasm.

14 Just One More Thing

If it weren’t so serious, Hendra would look funny with that thing on her head.

But of course it is serious.

Jaqua still doesn’t know what’s happening. But she is so certain that it is what should be happening that she is sitting and watching Hendra, and she is coming and coming and coming.

15 Missing Persons

“Jaqua?”

“Yes, Hendra?”

“I don’t think I know who I am.”

“You’re Hendra, Hendra.”

“Oh I know that... I think. But...“

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Hendra. I don’t think I ever knew who I was.“

“But I thought I did know. I thought I did...“

“Everyone’s wrong sometimes, Hendra—even you.”

“This is all so confusing.”

“You think too much.”

“Yeah. That’s one of the things I keep thinking.”

“Well there you are then.”

“Yeah, here I am then.”

“Hendra?”

“Yes?”

“You know how the base water supply works, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“That’s good. Hendra?”

“Yes, Jaqua?”

“Would you like to eat my pussy again?”

“I feel like that’s what I should be doing, yeah.“

“Well that’s good then. Because I think it’s what you should be doing too.“

16 Mirrors

Jaqua’s standing in front of the screen wall in her quarters. The screen is in mirror mode—as it has been more or less permanently these last few days.

She’s checking out her naked body. Mostly she’s checking out her tits, which are noticeably bigger now. The pills she’s taking really are amazing. She has plenty but she must get some more the next time she’s... the next time she’s... She must get some more.

Her hands and face look incredible too. She’s even developing a slight tan. There’s a long way to go yet, of course, but she’s sure she’s looking younger.

They like them younger, don’t they?

The thought sends a familiar shiver down her spine, from where it seems to ricochet between her anus and her pussy.

She’s doing what she’s supposed to be doing.

Speaking of which:

“Call to Hendra please,” says Jaqua, still watching herself feeling up her tits.

“Calling now,” says Jaqua’s choice of the available female voices.

“Yes, Jaqua?” says Hendra after a short pause. She sounds a little out of breath.

“Ah, Hendra. Who’s my next appointment?”

“It’s, er, Nardia I—ah!—think.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

17 Like Clockwork

At just twenty-two years old, Nardia is the youngest of the twelve on base. Her black skin doesn’t look any darker, but... but... Wow...

...there’s that ricochet again. And it’s a real trick shot.

Nardia checks herself out on the screen, just to feel that same shiver shooting down her spine.

Jaqua doesn’t really want to fuck Nardia. That’s not what it is at all. It’s just that Nardia is such a fuckable piece of sexmeat—so absolutely the kind they like—that just looking at her naked body is the ultimate in feeling that everything is as it should be.

Well, everything is heading where it should be at least. Obviously the base has nothing so frivolous as a hair removal unit, so like most of the base members, Nardia won’t achieve actual perfection here.

But even so... Wow.

No words are necessary. This is Nardia’s eighth visit so far—her third today alone. The routine is by now routine. They are really just marking time.

The two women arrange themselves on the bed like clockwork. Every inevitable move is driven by the knowledge that it is the right move, and that making the right move will contribute to the next orgasm—or the current orgasm, if that isn’t the same thing.

Jaqua’s legs open, and Nardia’s head sinks between them—just another piece falling into place.

The nectar that Nardia craves keeps coming, just as it should. And because it should, the nectar that Nardia craves keeps coming.

18 Back In Control

“Cargo vessel, this is docking station. Please state your preference.”

According to the manuals this is the form of announcement with which all docking stations initiate communication. But it throws Jaqua a little. In her experience they always start off by asking her to clarify something. Still, it’s the female voice again. Good.

“Hello docking station. Please initiate auto-dock using revision 37 of auto-dock protocol 18.”

“Auto-dock protocol 18 is for shuttles, cargo vessel. Do you mean revision 37 of auto-dock protocol 14?”

“What?! Oh, right. Er... No, I mean revision... 39 of auto-dock protocol 14. Sorry. Please initiate auto-dock using... that.“

“Auto-dock initiated, cargo vessel. You will have limited control of your vessel during docking. Docking will commence in thirty seconds.”

“Thank you, docking station.”

After thirty seconds the familiar rotation begins. If there is any sensation in Jaqua’s stomach, it is merely centrifugal. Or is it centripetal? She never could remember. Either way, she has no fear: auto-docking always goes like clockwork, and as such it is a pleasure to be savoured.

“Oh, cargo vessel?”

Jaqua frowns.

“Yes, docking station?”

“For information: the mute button on your comms unit is the red one. The green button boosts your audio signal.“

Jaqua smiles.

“Noted, docking station. And thank you.”

19 Delivered

The chemical stuff—all that stupid pheromone research shit—is probably still being unloaded by robots when Jaqua, Hendra, and ten other happily stoned women arrive at Reception. They are all naked: just as they were when they were loading all that shit onto the cargo vessel by hand this morning; just as they have been for several days.

Though they haven’t noticed, the gym ship has already left the orbit of their old home planet. The walk from the docking bay to Reception may have felt like a long one, but it is as nothing to the distance they have actually travelled in that time.

Myla is waiting for them in her tight, tight work-out clothes. There’s a woman with her holding a board. She reminds Jaqua a little of Sarah—maybe she’s her younger sister. She’s naked, but of course that doesn’t strike anyone as odd.

The group naturally comes to a stop forming an arc in front of Myla.

“Hi girls,” she says, smiling, and they all say hi back, each voice reflecting its owner’s current position on the conscious-to-cheerful spectrum. There’s no special recognition for Jaqua, but then Jaqua doesn’t expect any, so that’s okay.

Myla’s a natural leader. Of course Jaqua knows that already but the others have all sensed it too. Her tits aren’t that big, but it’s not her tits that have grabbed their attention. It’s not her tits that they’d all like to be feeding from.

They all feel the desire to drop to their knees at her feet. But they all know feeling the desire is all that’s required right now.

She quickly scans across them, looking each one up and down. She seems satisfied—especially with Nardia, on whom her eyes linger a little longer than the rest.

Finally she claps her hands.

“Okay. Let’s get to hair removal first. We can take some details from each of you as we’re sorting that out.”

20 The Trade

It’s rest time and Myla is wandering around the lounge with her board, asking each of the girls a few easy questions. She does this sometimes—they don’t know why. Perhaps she has a bad memory. She has just come to Hendra.

“Okay, so what’s your name, babe?”

“It’s Carolina, Ma’am.”

Ah. Yes. You might think that Hendra has got this wrong but, well, a couple of weeks have passed, and some old things have been forgotten, and some new things have been remembered. At least, the girls have forgotten some things; nothing has actually been forgotten. It is more a case of things—knowledge, thoughts, ideas—having been stolen: removed, downloaded, and stored.

Of the twelve new girls, only Jaqua Moon’s name is unchanged—and that only because it is one of the most common names in the universe, and it amused Myla to let her keep it.

“And how old are you, sweetie?”

“I’m twenty, Ma’am.”

“Very good!”

To Carolina it doesn’t seem too great an achievement that she knows her own age. But however unwarranted, this praise from Myla still makes her squirm a little in her seat.

Twenty is indeed the age indicated by the date of birth on Carolina’s Infocard. She has done well to achieve this—although most of the credit should really go to science. And for the record, Carolina is not a scientist.

Jaqua’s card reflects an entirely credible eighteen years. Kalimba—formerly Nardia—is officially sixteen, but no one is going to believe that without seeing her Infocard. The other girls all like to mother Kalimba, and she can’t really be sixteen because she doesn’t seem to mind that at all.

Myla is holding up her board now so that she can compare Carolina’s face with the old image of Hendra that she has pulled up. The marked difference is very satisfying. Really, no one would see the connection between this fresh-faced young thing and the thirty-four-year-old scientist whose disappearance has not yet even been discovered. It’s just possible that Myla is squirming a little herself.

She turns the board around.

“Now, sweetie: any idea who this might be?”

Carolina studies the image intently for a few seconds. She doesn’t recognize the middle-aged woman at all, but she has to be sure before she answers. She doesn’t want to get this wrong and miss out on another dose of that squirm-inducing praise. Finally she gives up, turning her eyes to Myla and shaking her head—throwing in a really rather good adolescent shrug for good measure.

“That’s great!” says Myla. “You’re doing really well, babe—really well.“

Even Jaqua, who is stretched out, languidly watching from one of the other couches nearby, can get a buzz from this praise. If things are going really well then it brings her nothing but pleasure to hear it. And of course there’s some family pride mixed in with that: Carolina is her big sister.

Besides, she has already answered Myla’s strange questions and earned herself similar praise. She didn’t recognize the woman on Myla’s board either. She wonders who she is.

But she doesn’t wonder for long. Like the other girls, Jaqua doesn’t spend too long thinking about any one thing. Well, maybe there is one thing...

Not for the first time in the last ten minutes, her hands are cupping her tits. She has good tits, she observes with no little pleasure, as if this is the first time she has noticed. They’re really quite big—exactly the kind they like. That is so good.

She looks down at them, also proudly taking in the golden brown splendour of the rest of the long-limbed, lithe young body stretching out before her. She lifts the right tit and bows her head to give the nipple a lick. She has always loved doing that.

She loves this rest time in the communal lounge. The girls don’t speak much but Myla will often join them and sometimes she’s in a chatty mood, like she is now. And those times are especially wonderful.

Mind you, rest time will soon be over, and they’ll be back downstairs in the gym, spending another few hours doing all of the things that the stick people on the walls are doing. But that’s okay because she loves that too.

She loves the work-outs. She loves the feeling that comes with the knowledge that she’s honing and toning this chunk of flesh—this sexmeat—to perfection. All the girls have noticed how the saddles of the exercycles smell exactly like that feeling. They know it’s disgusting but they all love to sniff and lick them. Jaqua can smell that odour right now.

She begins to flick idly at the small golden unicorn attached by a ring to her pierced navel. Carolina has the same little decoration, and they both love this because it marks them out as a pair. And it’s sweet too because apparently unicorns are quite rare.

With each flick of her finger comes the familiar jingling sound that she loves. She raises her hands to inspect her long, natural (but not quite natural) nails. Each one is pierced near its tip and decorated with a tiny, tiny bell. She loves them. She gives her hands a little shake just to hear that sound again. The jingle makes her tingle. This sexmeat has such exquisite finishing touches.

But she’s not quite the finished article yet. She’s closer than some of the others—Carolina for one. But she knows there’s still some honing and toning to be done even to her magnificent body.

And oh how she longs for all this preparation to be over—however much she enjoys every minute of it.

She is sexmeat. But meat isn’t really meat until it has been sold.

She needs to be traded. She yearns for it. She longs to be shackled and paraded, tickled and prodded. These big titties need to be squeezed and weighed up. Her ass needs to be grabbed at and slapped—to have its wonderfully tight but soft round flesh evaluated. She wants fingers to slip between her swollen and sensitive lips so that she can suck them and lick them—and maybe even gently bite them—so that her mouth may be judged.

Will they like these titties, this ass, this face? These long legs—is that what they like? Is that what they want? Will they like her darling little unicorn? Will her jingle make them tingle?

And then there’s the bigger question: will they want sisters? Myla has assured them both that they will fetch a fine price, but it’s hard to understand why.

Regardless, they are girlflesh, sexmeat. And soon—soon—she and Carolina will be a commodity ready to be traded.

They will be shackled and paraded—together. She loves the thought of that.

Shackled.

Paraded.

And then they will be sold.

It doesn’t matter to whom. All that matters is that he—or she—will be the highest bidder for these fine specimens of girlflesh. They will make the maximum credits for Myla. It is all they live to do.

And then...?

And then...?

And then they will have a new owner. And he or she may be a trader, a collector, a hoarder, or just someone looking for something to splash out on for a bit of fun. It really doesn’t matter to Jaqua—yet.

She can’t really think about it yet, of course. It’s the unknown. It’s like thinking about death. And right now she has Myla to live for.

But she knows that when it comes to it, whoever it is, whatever they want from her and her sister, they will live only to give it to them.

At this point she always thinks of sweet little Kalimba rather than herself and Carolina. She thinks of her with a cock in every hole and one in each hand too—fucking and being fucked for all she is worth. Perhaps she thinks of Kalimba because she is the most valuable of them all—perhaps even more valuable than the two sisters. Kalimba is what they would all be if they could. It makes Jaqua feel so proud to think of her little Kalimba giving all of herself, being used to her full value in that way.

She can’t imagine anyone wanting to use her like that. Perhaps a little of the old Jaqua remains.

But however they want to use her and Carolina, the pair of them will do it without question and to the best of their ability. Anything they want. Anything at all.

Myla is through with Carolina now so Jaqua gets up and goes over to her sister. They both passed Myla’s little test. No words are required. They just arrange themselves: Jaqua kneeling between Carolina’s open legs; her sinking head just yet another piece falling into place. She can taste Myla’s praise in her sister’s pussy. Only Myla’s pussy tastes better than this.

They’re just two loving sisters. And Jaqua still worries about their market appeal.

But still, they will do anything required of them.

Because that is what it means to be bought.

And that is what it means to be sold.

And Jaqua cannot wait. She cannot wait to prove her worth. And never more so than at this moment, she knows that Carolina feels the same.