The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

You can physically addict anybody to certain drugs, after all, they’re only human, and they will do anything you ask, or give you anything they have eventually. Everyone is susceptible to these drugs, but some have a higher tolerance for it than others. Eventually, a nice word, meaning an event that may come to pass in a possible future. Eventually, they become addicted to the drug and have to have it. They become physically dependent on it. Most of these addictions, believe it or not, start out as self-induced by what we, well society really, still persist in calling “recreational drugs”. Drugs that we intentionally use to alter our mental state.

Some drugs like heroin, one of the best known, have been used for centuries to enslave whole populations. Read about the Boxer Rebellion some time. No, neither heroin, nor cocaine, or any of the other drugs we were aware of was instantaneous either, but just like the Company’s Slut Maker they were dependable given time. There are a lot of factors that enter into how well the targeted individual behaves to a given drug.

We found out, through reading their computer logs, that Jane’s team was trying to reverse engineer our original Slut Maker. Evidently, they had a slave, but no drug, thank God. That could only mean we had missed someone or something when we shut down the Company’s operation involving that particular drug.

Turned out that Hugo and Jane had a thing for white girls that met certain criteria. TereIsa just happened to fit the bill for their kink. Our checking turned up 35 other girls matching Tereisa’s description, all from Russia, all non-English speaking, and all missing from the same general Seattle Washington area too. All of the girls were legally imported into this country and had been promised pretty good paying jobs taking care of children. Further checking showed that only one young eager female ICE officer had actually submitted a written request to her superiors in their Headquarters in Washington DC for information about the mysterious disappearances. A written request asking about the missing Russian girls. She herself went missing under mysterious circumstances shortly after that request. All of this should have set off all kinds of warning flags and alarms in the law enforcement community, but didn’t. I guess that shows you how screwed up Seattle is.

After Harry tracked where they had taken Tereisa he went back to his cheap motel on the US side of the border and contacted us, showing good judgment for a change. Imagine his surprise the next morning when Helen busted through his door and literally jumped his bones.

«Oh, I’ve missed you so much Master.» she babbled on the link for everyone to hear, as she lip-locked him and tongue wrestled, exchanging precious bodily fluids in the slobber contest for the Hive’s enjoyment.

“How did you find me, Helen?” He was finally able to ask out loud.

“Oh we’ve been with you on the link the entire time Master.» she innocently divulged.

Well so much for my running away from my responsibilities. The Hive had been following the whole time. Well, they had allowed me the allusion of being free for a little while. That showed they were growing up and thinking ahead for themselves.

«Well what have you found out?» I wanted to know, and soon the information was flowing in.

Evidently, we had missed at least one Slut Maker Slave and maybe an owner. One of the Cartels had brought this team together to reverse engineer June’s drug. Their notes, yes their computer security was a joke, showed that they had Empirical Proof of what the drug could do, and what the drug had looked like, just no drug. All this implied they had at least one original slave to work with.

“Do we know where Tereisa and these others are Ann?” I questioned.

«In the compound Harry.» Ann confirmed my suspicions.

“Do we call in the cops and have them raid the place or what?” I broached the subject but knowing what their answer was going to be.

«We do what works.» came back from all the Hive listening in.

“I take it that we’re going to put a shield around it and dump it with the other one Ann.” I laughed.

“It works for me, ha, ha.” Ann broke up laughing.

“KISS, Keep It Simple Stupid,” Helen added.

So that’s what we did. Of course this time we didn’t leave a huge unsightly hole in the ground. Oh no, this time we replaced it with a chunk of Moon rock. Let the locals sort out the mystery of where the estate went. In this case, we put the necessary Box, shield, and cloak in our lander then pulled up close to the wall and turned on the reconfigured shield. Everything went absolutely black inside with the click of the switch. Next, we turned on the timer and waited for Bob to get us to our, what was fast becoming anyway, our own personal penal planet. And for all you technical nerds and geeks, there was no inertia, no momentum, we did not feel or experience anything that told us we were moving or standing still for that matter. Other than it going black and the loss of gravity nothing happened. It was like we were outside all the rules and laws of physics for that journey.

Once again we dumped them just offshore in shallow water, making them an island that was easier to defend. Next using loudspeakers, we still had power, we demanded their surrender. All this did was bring on a lot of shooting. We had no idea who, or what for that matter, they were shooting at, as we hovered above them invisible to the world. Waiting a reasonable length of time we gave Robbie’s new pop gun it’s first real-world test. You remember me wanting a bigger EMP pulse gun. Well, Robbie made me one. It wound up looking like one of those old Bazooka your always seeing on the old war movies. Five and a half feet long, a six-inch diameter tube that flared to nine inches at the business end, weighing close to twenty-five pounds, and with a handle grip and simple trigger at its balance point. Robbie assured us it would freeze everyone in there.

It was tuned to this one specific area of the human brain that controls movement. When that area of the human brain is hit with an extremely short but intense burst of deep penetration ultrasound it locks up the entire body. It stays that way until it gets hit with a cattle prod which we also carry. The shock from that seems to reset the brain. They remember everything but just can’t move.

I got the dubious honor of being the first one to christen it. After I did I was impressed. The thing worked like a charm. We were able to walk right in and sort out the garbage, leaving the bad guys frozen and the people we came for awake. Of course, after waking up a couple of, what we assumed were the Russian girls, only to have her start screaming at the top of her lungs, we were forced to stop and rethink waking them up here. So, in the end, we had to restock and leave them as they were until we could spare them more time to sort out their problem.

Every sole on the now island was connected to the operation and we didn’t figure we owed them any mercy, but we weren’t about to formally put them to death either. In the end, we dropped them the same CARE package we left the other colony. Yes, colony, that is what they had become. The CARE package was a couple of drop shipping containers that magically appeared days later. They were filled with everything necessary to maintain the colony. They were also given a frequency they could make requests on. We made it plain that it was only for requests for things they needed as a colony. There would be no negotiations.

It surprised us that there were forty women they had been experimenting on in the compound. There were also thirty actual experimenters and fifty-five staff and security guards. After some debate, we were all surprised when June and Lucy showed up on the courier ship from Landoo to make their case personally about the victims. In the end, it was decided that the victims would be brought back and treated at a facility we were going to create back in the good old KSA, with the Kings permission and approval it seemed.

June and Lucy made the argument that the women should be left on the island with Jane and her crew for further study. Jane broke them, make Jane fix them, they argued. Their argument being that all the Slut Maker victims, meaning them too, still had problems. June and company had come to grips with their demons, but somebody really needed to study how to reverse it, or at least control its effects. Being realist June’s group embraced their change. As the German philosopher, Friedrich Nietzsche had summed it up years ago when he said, “Was mich nicht umbringt macht mich stärker.", or “Whatever doesn’t kill you simply makes you stronger.” That didn’t mean you couldn’t try to help others though.

In the end, we still voted for taking them back to KSA, where Doctors Pat Rizo and Liz Sinclare the original discover of Slut Maker had already set up a lab. We would try to fix them there and give the ladies a choice when it was over. Well, I guess after we had actually diagnosed how much damage had been done to them anyway. In the meantime, we all voted to offer Jane and her crew a job.

I know the Hippocratic oath is, " to do no harm”, but I also know that brilliant young cutting edge doctors like Jane are by nature and definition amoral psychopaths. The creed of such cutting edge doctors is; the edge is so sharp that something’s bound to get cut and bleed. The real test of your skill is to make sure it’s not you that’s doing the bleeding. It’s just the nature of the beast you are dealing with, but they do get results. Oh yes, they expand the boundaries of science, but at what a cost?

Jane and our problem with her is one of the basic difference between Eastern and Western philosophy. In Western lore, Dragons are by their very nature evil destructive creatures. Creatures that have to be killed, as an example, take the tale of Saint George and the Dragon. On the other hand in Eastern lore the Dragon is regarded as a force of nature, a force that is neither good nor evil, not all bad or all good, a force that has to be harnessed to do good. It is the duty, or more likely, the destiny of the hero in their tales to harness the Dragon. Make your problem become your solution, but make sure you don’t become a problem too.

After much more discussion it was decided that Jane and the others would be recruited to become the start of our doctors and researchers for what we would call Dangerous Projects. There were many questions we all wanted more information on. Everybody agreed that isolated here on this virtually bare planet, it didn’t even have any heavy metals, they could do little harm. So me and the Girls explained everything to Jane and her group. I mean everything.

Robbie, the nannies, the Ray’s, the Builders, the Bob’s, Landoo, AE3, Slut Maker. Everything. We held nothing back and everybody was in shock when we finished. Many of our prisoners started demanding to be released we weren’t the law.

“Hey asshole, there are no fences on this island. You can leave any time you want, just walk right out any time you want honey.” June directed one 6 foot 4 muscle bound freak. “Of course there is nothing to eat out there and no place to go, but feel free to go any time you want.”

After that, they broke up into their individual groups and sulked for the rest of the day. By morning they had, for the most part, accepted their fate.

“So we’re never going to leave this planet, Mister Evans?” Jane more or less stated the obvious over breakfast in the open air cafeteria we had found in the compound. I must say it did a fantastic breakfast burrito.

“That sums it up Jane, this is our prison planet. There is no appeal from our judgment. No place to escape to. You’re here for life. We’ll provide you anything you need to survive and continue your work. We’ll even talk about things to make your stay here pleasant,” I answered.

“I’ll need....” She started.

“Within reason Jane, within reason.” I reminded her.

And so started our very own prison for mad scientists and evil doctors that we discovered out there in the real world. We were the ones that judged them. If we judged them to be too dangerous to be left on their own they wound up here. Here where they could be policed by their own kind. If you ever see PFEDAMS marked on a star chart somewhere, know it stands for Prison For Evil Doctors And Mad Scientists. Not a place to visit lightly.

Tereisa and the others were just as messed up as we had feared. The only one of the bunch that even spoke English, and a spattering of Russian, was the ICE officer, Lieutenant Veronica (Ronnie) James. Lieutenant James had doctoral degrees in Psychology, Sociology, Anthropology, Linguistics, and Statistical Annalise. Though pretty, she just happened to match the Russian girl’s profile in looks, she was actively hated by her fellow ICE employees and the law enforcement people she was forced to work with. First, she was a lateral entry, meaning she jumped right in as a Lieutenant with no actual field experience because she was a nerd. Her commanding officer was less kind calling her an “over-educated idiot” behind her back. Second, she was a know-it-all that refused to let the people around her forget she was an officer and they weren’t. Also, she never let them forget she was due another promotion just because she had all those degrees. Lastly, she was an actual practicing member of her Church’s chastity club, Virgins For Christ. She even wore a VFC pin on her blouse to work. A virgin no less. Proud to be a virgin. Like it was some kind of badge or something to be worn around until she was married.

It didn’t come as a big surprise to find that Seattle was a major human sex trafficking port, a major hub. It also didn’t come as too much of a surprise to find that all the people of the different agencies involved were on the payroll, except poor Ronnie, who was clueless. It was actually her commanding officer that drugged poor Ronnie and handed her over to Jane’s people. Of course, the good Captain had been promised she would be returned, suitably house broken and trained as his sex slave before she was missed. The Captain was still complaining that this violated their agreement and it was causing him no end of official headaches from Washington DC.

We learned all this from their different cell phone conversations, 256-bit encryption was nothing for either Robbie or Bob to crack, and we didn’t need a court-approved warrant. In no time we had all the information we needed to act.

Distrust is a wonderful thing when used right. I know that most of my crew would have liked to have gone in there guns blazing and cleaned them all out. I’m not even saying that it wouldn’t have been personally satisfying, trust me it would have been deeply satisfying, but it would have been inefficient. It might have even gotten someone I loved needlessly killed or hurt unnecessarily.

Instead, we dropped a dime on all the Agencies with the IRS and good old CNN, Fox News and few of the better Rags first. This resulted in all their assets being frozen, and everybody running to cover his or her own butt. We followed up with demands, supposedly from the Agents to the Cartels for more money, and threats to turn informer in exchange for immunity if they didn’t get the money.

In no time the Cartels had hired and dispatched teams of mercenaries to kill them and make a high profile example of the Agent’s deaths on American soil. We were closely monitoring all of this and ready to move in.

«Ready Bee.» I asked on our link. A link that was encrypted to avoid any interference now thanks to the Builders.

«Ready Sir.» came back. B Pod had been complaining they didn’t get enough action so they got to set up the whole thing. Bee was in a hovering invisible lander overseeing the Cartel’s mercenaries secret envelopment of the secret joint Agency Headquarters for the whole Northwestern United States. Right now all the heads of the different Agencies were in there discussing what they should do about the Cartels and the present situation.

The mercenaries had come up with a simple, yet brilliantly brutal plan. They mined the conference room and were going to set it off and overrun the building at the same time. Nobody was going to survive this raid. It would be a bloody example to others that sought to betray the Cartels for years to come.

First, the mercenaries set off their charges with their remote. A suitably loud bang was heard so the mercenaries rushed forward to finish off the stunned agents inside. Little did they realize that Bee had jammed their signal and set off our own harmless flashbangs. Instead of dead and dying agents, they found alert and angry armed agents. In the ensuing firefight, most of the mercenaries and agents managed to kill each other off.

«Ok Bee you can stun what’s left.» I directed.

«Maybe wait a little longer Harry.» she delayed her response.

«There have to be some survivors Bee, and Bee you can set off the original charge now. Saves us from having to explain why it didn’t go off in the first place. It’ll just appear somebody screwed up the timer trigger.» I directed her, she did making a bigger bloody mess than it already was. Let Washington DC sort it all out now that we had broken it.

We found the slave and her owner in the sweep that followed. June and Lucy came back to oversee the treatment of her cousin and his daughter. The nannies and the hypnosis went off like clockwork and everyone went back to normal, well as normal as everything is in the Hive anyway. So I was a little shocked when Ann and June brought Olivia back by a few weeks later.

“I don’t give refunds on the “Fairy Tale Treatment” ladies, it’s strictly one to the customer.” I laughed.

“It’s not that Harry.” June started off.

“Let Olivia explain it June.” Ann directed.

“Ok, all of you have a seat and you explain Olivia.” I directed, then pushing back my rolling thrown and propping my feet up on my very large desk. An act that always draws a frown from Ann.

Olivia’s Tale

“Charles Harington, my father, got the drug from our butler Henry, believe it or not, Master...Ahhh...I can’t believe it still feels so good to just say that Sir... Anyway my Mother never filed for divorce, and certainly had no interest in me. She always called me that squally brat that ruined her perfect figure. On my third birthday, she simply walked out and went back to France. I understand from the lawyer that is now handling my estate...I have no idea where Daddy Dearest is, nor do I want to. The lawyer says that Mother gets a stipend from my father every year.” She paused and looked at me expectantly.

“Olivia I know that you want all the “Fairy Tale Treatment” now, but your only fourteen and that has to wait,” I said, reading her mind through the nannies and Hive link. She sighed and continued.

“It’s unfair, but June insisted that I had to be enrolled in Saint Francis, Catholic School For Young Women Of Good Breeding...” Olivia was continuing her story until June interrupted her.

“Harry I went there, it was a wonderful school...” I interrupted her and motioned Olivia to continue.

“From the first day, I knew something was wrong. There was something about the other girls that was off. I mean I’m not a prude...ahaa...well...I mean...I’m not a virgin anymore, but I’ve got...had one since I was 13, one of those implant things that are supposed to be better than the pill. You know you can’t make the excuse you forgot to take your pill if you get knocked up. Anyway, I discovered that a third of my class of thirty was pregnant. I’m not talking a little prego, I’m talking out to here.” She made motions with her hands showing how far their belly’s stuck out.

“Ok, what are we talking? Slutty Catholic school girls? Lack of sex education....” I was interrupted.

“None of that Sir. They are all virgins...” Olivia stated matter of factly.

“Oh come on! I mean in order to get pregnant you have to have sex...well don’t you?!” I expounded as I looked at the three serious faces around me.

“Trust me, Master, I know all about Tab A and Slot B, that’s why all this is so unfair...” She whined for me and the Hive to hear her misery.

“All of them are still virgins?” I asked, ignoring the whine.

“Yes, they still have an intact hymen. I know. I checked. You forgot to put in a restriction that we couldn’t play with ourselves, or other girls Master. Trust me they are virgins.” Olivia smirked.

“Well they’re Catholic, maybe it’s Emaciate Conception or something.” I joked. Ok, a joke which was lost on the girls around me judging from their lack of reaction.

“It’s the next part that we came to you about. Kate, the girl I gave a lick and a promise to, showed up for Breakfast the next morning not prego, and not even remembering she had ever been prego.” Olivia finished up lamely.

“Well, you implied that she was almost to term. Maybe she just had her baby and gave it up for adoption. Mothers do it all the time, especially Catholic school girl mothers...” I shrugged and waited for their reply.

“And remain a virgin, Sir? And where did the baby go? And why didn’t she remember?” Olivia questioned.

“Maybe she was lying,” I said without too much conviction.

“Master you know you can’t lie to one of us. The nannies take care of that. If we make eye contact and hold your hand we’re better than a polygraph. They do not remember being pregnant.” Even she had to laugh.

“Well, what happened?” I asked.

“Well, I did discover one other interesting fact. Kate has...does have a cesarean scar now. A fully healed cesarean scar I must add, from what is popularly known as a C-section. Before you ask, I had a Sunday School Teacher that just had to show off hers to us, and describe the whole ordeal in great detail to us Sir.” She laughed.

“Now let me see if I’ve got this right. Your telling me that somebody...well some agency anyway...is sneaking into this Catholic Girl’s School...at night?...impregnating these adolescent girls...virgin girls no less...girls that don’t notice they’re pregnant, I might add...then waiting patiently for them to come to term...then sneaking back in and taking the child by C-section...and they don’t remember losing the child either. Is that what your selling Girls? In the old days, I would say you were trying to gaslight me, ladies.” I laughed.

«Harry until now I have been quite, but the Girls are quite serious and everything they have told you is true. I was called in to investigate when none of the Girls could gain access to the school records. The school has a computer system that is much too advanced to be at that school. It, I think, is based on one of the Inoway designs and is almost sentient, Harry. It is ruby and sapphire-based Harry.» Robbie made his presence known.

“And why have I been called in Ann...no this is the Hive isn’t it?” I questioned.

«Because the situation is reaching a critical phase. We can try one more thing to get information and then it’s going to be the proverbial blunt force trauma time. We’ve already notified the Builders of the development and have two Bob’s and several Builder children studying this too.» Robbie finished up.

“So what’s next?” I asked.

«We tag the fetuses and find out where they are going.» Robbie shot back.

“Well, that seems simple enough. Do it.” I answered...gave permission...directed...whatever.” We could only wait now. We, well me at least, had no idea where this would lead.

So it began. Olivia, an overachiever with an agile tongue, tagged all her classmates with three devices each. A small, almost microscopic, glass bead that was injected with an air gun, a device that emitted a high-frequency burst or ping every six hours until given a signal to go active. A radioactive dye that left trace particles of itself on anything the mother, or fetus for that matter, touched. Lastly, a real-time transmitter implanted by nanobots that gave us audio and video feeds of everything the girls saw and heard.

After running the real-time feeds for six hours, and learning what innocent Catholic school girls do for fun, we shut them down. They would only be turned back on when, or if the girls were taken, or we wanted to check if they were ok.

By this time we had stealth suits that rendered us invisible and fail-safe personal shields. The only problem with the shield is when it’s on your cut off from the real world, completely isolated. Sure as long as it’s powered up your untouchable, but what’s waiting for you when you turn it off? It’s like the old joke, “If I knew where I died I wouldn’t go there.” Or Schrodinger’s Cat explained. We only used the shield if it was a dire emergency and only found out if we lived through a desperate situation when we turned it off. Had we won and been recused or were the enemy just waiting out there to kill us when we turned the shield off. There was no way to know until we turned it off. As with Schrodinger’s Cat, we didn’t know until then.

A week later we got our first nibble as something disturbed the invisible laser net we had installed in the school’s dormitory halls. It became a full bite when Whitney’s room door was opened. Opening the audio feed to her implant we heard nothing, the same went for her visual.

We turned off the implants and waited. Pretty soon her door was reopened and whatever it was proceeded down the hall to the next girls’ room. This was kept up all night until every room had been entered. Surprisingly we noted that Olivia’s room was visited too. I chided myself for never checking to see if Olivia was pregnant before now.

«Ann check tomorrow to see if Olivia is pregnant.» I prompted Ann.

«What?... you don’t think....» she started and I cut her off.

«I think you’re going to find that she’s been pregnant for several weeks. Hell was probably impregnated the first night she got here, if it follows the pattern I see developing here.» I said.

The next night it, whatever it was, was back, and we still didn’t know what it was doing or even looked like. The pictures we had shown a black undefined blob. This time it did take Whitney out into the hall and disappear. One second it was in the hall, the next it was gone from the net. We waited a couple of hours and Whitney reappeared on our screens and was shortly returned to her room. The next morning it was confirmed that Whitney had lost her child. It was also confirmed that Olivia was carrying a fetus now, and it also came as no surprise that she didn’t know anything about it. Ann also followed up on Olivia’s pregnancy by ordering a DNA scan to find out who the Daddy was.

By following the radioactive dye we discovered the clever elevator like arrangement that came down from the ceiling and then retracted back up there. Instead of below us, whatever this was, was above us. By now the glass bead transmitter we had implanted in the fetus/child was pinging away happily, telling us where it is.

Usually, the Hive is unified in its decisions about things, but there was dissension in the ranks about whether to call it a fetus or a child. A fetus is just a thing, a child, on the other hand, is a person, a presence. I was fine with calling it an it. To me, it was just another object to be kept track of. I’m sure that the Hive would say it was because I had no emotional investment in the issue.

I was personally fine with that, but as you’ve probably guessed by now, the Hive wasn’t. Well, the majority wasn’t anyway. For some unknown reason, fate, karma, all-of-the-above, it fell to me to decide how we would define our relationship to it and the others we knew about. Would we recognize it as a person, a very small person anyway, or an object? I chose to recognize it as a child. I chose, for me and the Hive, to make that emotional investment. A choice that would define how far we would go to recover the children that had been taken from their mothers, even if their mothers didn’t realize it.

«Inquiring minds want to know, who’s the Daddy Ann?» I started our meeting out with the question I wanted to be answered first. The question I was sure everybody, but me, already knew the answer to. In most things, I’m outside the Hive’s internal grapevine.

“I’m sure your aware that the United States has a large number of private commercial sperm banks. They collect the sperm and freeze the sample in liquid Nitrogen. They even pay a premium for certain sperm. All the characteristics of the donor are kept in their data banks and that information is shared with other sperm banks and legitimate researchers. They actually maintain a catalog that you can choose from” Ann paused to allow Candy and Becky to set up a projector.

“We can identify all of the Daddies. They are all different donors and all in the legitimate sperm bank’s catalog. Because of that, we know who they all are, a fact that does us no good, but another fact is we know what they are, and that tells us a lot. The male donors were all chosen for certain characteristics, Nordic features, genius level intelligence, and above average longevity. That was to be expected I guess, but this next wasn’t.” She motioned to Candy who turned on the projector. On the facing wall was shown the familiar Double Helix of our genetic code.

“Here, here, and here,” she pointed out with her yardstick, “the code has been changed. Somebody has deliberately altered these genes. This is not a natural mutation, this is intentional and our Builders are studying what the child will be like...” I stopped her to ask a question.

“Male or Female Ann?” I asked.

“So far those we have tested are mixed. At first, we feared somebody might have played around with XY chromosomes, maybe made some XXY or something, but these children are evenly divided into straight male and straight female if there’s really such an animal. There are also none of the chromosomes scientists claim cause deviant sexual behavior Harry.” Ann finished and sat down.

“Ok, what’s upstairs,” I asked the floor in general.

“The architectural plans on file for the school were no help. This building is less than twenty years old believe it or not. A super-rich benefactor paid to have this school built. To a certain extent, it’s an optical illusion. It appears that the school is on the first floor and the dormitories and living quarters are over the school. What nobody had reason to suspect is there is yet another entire level above that, a level not in the plans, and there’s also several layers under the school. By the way, the rich benefactor was a blind trust and dead-end.” Becky supplied.

“Who are we dealing with here Girls,” I moaned under my breath. Why me I asked myself once again?

«We have no ideal Master.» came back from the link.

«We don’t know and you have to make the decision. Do we continue to watch or do we invade.» Robbie put in.

“We can’t just get in there and see what they’re doing,” I whined.

«We’ve been extremely lucky that we haven’t set off any alarms so far. I mean Olivia has nannies and the programming...Oh, I forget, we don’t do any of that nasty old stuff...we have the Fairy Tale Treatment, ha, ha,» Robbie laughed. «it should have been impossible for them to have abducted her, but not only did they abduct her, but they also impregnated her and made her forget it. She has also continued to cooperate with them without being aware she is cooperating. That is all impossible as far as I know.» Robbie pointed out what should have been obvious to me.

“So we watch?” Ann questioned.

«It’s not like they have mistreated any of these girls, quite the opposite I must say. All of their victims, I could say, guests, are prime examples of naturally born womanhood coming of age to flower. All just reaching prime sexual reproductive maturity, in peak physical condition. The school provides them with a proper diet, exercise regiment, and steady health care, in a comfortable stable nurturing environment. When it comes time to pluck their ripe apple off the tree, or should I say the old bun out of the oven, they even relieve her of the discomfort, some would argue excruciating pain, of natural childbirth.» Robbie chuckled.

“We Watch.” I reluctantly agreed. Discretion is indeed the better part of valor it would seem.