The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I.

There was nothing on television except sports and shopping. It was late Saturday afternoon, and the bong hits were wearing Kelvin down to restlessness. His bed was no longer the place to be and when he considered another round of jerking off all that got aroused was indifference.

He looked around at this new bedroom of his, a land grab in his parents’ basement. After four days alone without his parents, there wasn’t any difference between the basement and the rest of the house - the mess was universal. He tried to remember when they said they’d be coming home. Not to clean up but because of the change of pace.

He decided to go for a walk. He grabbed smokes, found a jacket, slid open the glass patio door of his bedroom, and headed across the backyard to the path he and friends wore down over the years. It was late fall, but the sun was warm. The path led through the woods behind the house, up a hill, alongside a creek, down a hill, across some random planks they all called The Bridge, and finally it opened into a wide, rolling right-of-way for power lines. It was about sixty yards wide and ran for miles up and down the countryside connecting one exurb with the next. In between was what was left of farmland and the farmland that was slowing reverting to meadow.

Without realizing it, Kelvin walked about a quarter of a mile more, far far beyond the redoubt he and his friends went to party in. When he realized the trees and the contours of the right-of-way were different, he stopped and rubbed his chin. He hadn’t been thinking a single memorable thing, had no idea how far he’d gone, or why, and that was pretty cool; this was a real march against the boredom of life. He sat on a rock and lit another cigarette. He looked at a small utility area—fencing around a shed, really—off to his right and thought it would be cool to break in and party there one night.

The sun was now going down and the crisp fall air suddenly dropped a few degrees. He snapped up the collar of his jacket and inadvertently looked in the other direction. Something hung on his attention; something was over there. It pulled on him more. The something was glistening. It was a pile or a mound of something really weird and it was really out of place against the yellow dying grass and the nearly bare trees. The breeze was making it wobble slightly. Fucking weird industrial shit, he decided. That seemed kind of cool, dangerous too. Now he wanted to know what the hell the goddamned utility company was up to out here.

The closer he got the less he was able to make it out. He thought it was ice, he considered piles of glass, he imagined some kind of fucked up industrial jelly byproduct. It was about four feet high, a pretty good size dollop of shit that had nothing to do with trees or birds or earth or grass surrounding it. But it was pretty cool looking, just fallen out of the sky or belched up out of the ground, or oozed from someplace else. After a few minutes he moved closer. The wind was making it wiggle and he wanted to touch it. Could he? What would happen? The first hint of a burning sensation and he was gone, promise. He got very close. The outer edges glittered with translucence, but looking deeper the center was vague, opaque whiteness with dirty yellow blotches.

He decided to poke it with a stick. It gave way slowly until it welcomed the stick without a tear or a puncture. The stick just pushed through, softly. Weird, because there were cube shapes to it, like jello. But totally clear, bright like polyurethane, and moist. He pulled the stick out brought it to towards him and then dared himself to touch it in a titillating challenge: would it jump attack like the Blob or not?

A piece hung vaguely cubed shaped. He reached for it and it smeared easily, viscously between his fingers. Slowly they began to tingle - not a lot and not really menacingly. Could have been his own central nervous system excited by the danger. Nothing smelled, nothing was alarming. Just a light electrical light tingle that was sort of freakish.

Then he noticed the body.

The random sloping and piling of the blobby pile was actually the plopped shape of the body inside, white skinned, on its side not in repose but like it had been rolled out of a pickup or just dumped. To make sure, Kelvin walked around—was it alive? Was it even human? As he moved around, what his mind had taken for shadows revealed themselves. Long reddish, dark cherry colored hair flowed outwards from the head. It was floating, not resting in the ground—in fact, the body itself was buoyed in the center, as if reclining on a polyurethane pool pillow. When he came around the other side, the rest of the body revealed itself: the pink of the nipples, aerolae, cheeks, knees and heels were bright and clean of dirt. The light reddish pubic hair nestled between—her—legs.. But it was the wide open green eyes that made him gasp.

On his knees, he moved as closely as he dared: it was definitely a girl, mouth slightly barely open, her lips held in tiny cupped guppy-lipped circle. Dead.

...until the muscles of her throat pulled downward slightly, like she was swallowing. Without closing her mouth. He waved his hand weakly, timidly. After a few minutes, she did it again, staring out like a fish, swallowing or breathing the jelly in stuffed underwater-like silence. Kelvin dug his fingers in to pull her out. When he reached her, the chill of her skin and the tight slick muscles underneath freaked him out, but he burrowed down further to pull her up, so that when she reached the surface, he half expected gasping and gurgling and coughing and wondered if he was capable of giving mouth to mouth with this shit all over her. But the barest exhale pushed a thick runny sluice of jelly out of her nostrils and the side of her lips. He hurriedly dug into her mouth with his fingers, scraping his knuckles on her teeth, and scooped out as much as he could.

II.

The rest wasn’t easy. The panicky climb over the utility fence for a wheelbarrow resting against the shed tore through a pants leg and cut a long bloody line up his calf. Even after being pulled out of the jelly and left to warm up in the sun by the time he dragged the wheelbarrow back her body was still cold, firm and inflexible, like knotted wood. Getting her body into the wheelbarrow was not done the way he thought, dragging her deadman style by the armpits. He turned the wheelbarrow to its side, rolled her, heaving, to the barrow’s lip and then with one more big push, the barrow rolled upright. The body rocked back and forth and settled, rigid, liquidly, inanimate. He caught himself staring at her, naked except for the gelatin that still clung to her body. He legs lifted, bent and open, arms reaching for her legs, neck and shoulders craned. He stared until her throat clenched again and then he pushed on. He wanted back to his house before the night got any colder.

The touch of her skin, liking touching a snake, stayed with him a while.

Back at home, he struggled turning the barrow over. The barrow tilted, her body at first resisted and then tumbled heavily, wetly, onto the concrete. Her limbs did not shift or bend. He half-dragged, half-lugged her, heavily and sloppily across the patio, through his bedroom and into the bathtub and still the only signs of life were the tiny exhales pushing out more clear goo. He got down on the bathroom tile and tried to sit her up, but the stiffness held in her in the same semi-reclined position. Her upper body held the recline, as her head rested on the side of the tub. It was like maneuvering a mannequin or six foot two by four in the small bathroom.

Propped like this, he tried again to get the goo out of her as much as possible by digging into her mouth and nose and pushing her stomach up and in. The muscles of her stomach barely gave under his palm. But some goo started to fall out of her mouth and dripped out of her nose and the more he pushed, the more came spilling out. After a while, it seemed endlessly. More and more came out and he realized she wasn’t just completely submerged. The jelly had been inhaled completely, filling every crevice, tube, pocket, or sack of her lungs, intestines, stomach, bladder, uterus, vagina, and anus.

With every push, the substance slipped out of her openings like a squeezed sponge, and after awhile, Kelvin could not stand the increased tingling he felt on skin that came in contact with the jelly. He ditched his clothes and ran out back to use a garden hose on himself. Though the tingling slowly died off, the gook he washed off didn’t breakdown in the water. It just rolled off his body and collected in small jellied mounds on the edge of the patio and the lawn.

Inside, he grabbed some towels and ran back in to the bathroom. The girl was still there in the tub, wet with clear slime sliding off her body thanks to gravity. Her eyes stared up past his shoulder. They were not dead. He felt an animalist recognition of life inside the girl somewhere, but not because her eyes made contact with his or perceived something. They were not looking at anything other than the direction they were last fixed on, her green eyes slightly opaque like sea glass. Her body had not settled at all into the contours of the tub. It was exactly as he had found her and then left her: knees slightly buckled, legs splayed slightly and lifted several inches off the tub, arms open and extended like something was being handed to her, shoulders and back not resting against the tub but curved forward, pushing her neck and head frontward.

There was no visible means of support at all, except for the sheer tension of her muscles that seemed to keep her body in a lasting position, still glistening with the jelly she was expectorating. He watched fascinated but helpless. The jelly would push through her little, open mouth, and then after a few minutes some of it would slip past her lips, back into her mouth as she inhaled. Or swallowed.

After a while so much jelly was slipping out of her, in a quantity that amazed and then nauseated him, that Kelvin now began to wonder what he should to do. What to do with this unreceptive, partially alive girl-thing and what about the jelly shit that totally will not drain helpfully away, and have I done enough to help because she’s too far gone or is she, and if so, gone where? She isn’t dead ... . Kelvin’s mind raced. The only thing he could actually do was go smoke. Better to think that way.

He stepped out the sliding glass doors to the patio and lit up, unaware of a gradual movement , a languorous shifting going on in the tub. It was barely noticeable, but there. Her body tensed and stretched, every muscle and tendon, from the slight curling of her toes, up her legs, her ass clenching and her stomach too, her chest rose, expanding with what had to be triumph and satisfaction. Through her little mouth more goo trickled out but this time her own saliva slipped out and through her pussy, goo and her own juice. The momentary blissful shudder of eyelids closing as the subterranean orgasm pushed slow-motion through her went unnoticed. And eventually subsided as her body accepted the new shape the orgasm had moved it into and held it. Soon the only part of her actually touching the tub was her ass. Somehow her body found the right balancing point and stopped so that after a few moments, the only thing moving in the whole bathroom was the jelly—as it slipped effortlessly down the drain.

III.

Hours of vigil passed. He tried shaking her, but her knees knocked like stones against the wall of the tub. He tried shouting, then whispering, coaxing her. He sat on the floor of the bathroom, one cigarette after the next, watching the girl maintain this same, weightless seeming position that her brain put her in. Each time he nodded off, or got up to pee (outside) or get something to eat, he found her unchanged. And he had gotten to know every inch of her, just to make sure she didn’t move, even a shudder.

She was pretty, very pretty, with happy looking lips whose corners curled up mischievously, and high cheekbones, and long, strong arms. Her neck was slightly angled forward as if she drawing in a breath or swallowing or sucking, but never actually completing the retraction. Her breasts were full and round with nipples stiff like little crowns. He studied the muscles in her stomach, the muscles in her tightened hips, the way the roundness of her ass and the layers of muscle inside flattened only an inch or so along the bottom of the tub. The flair of peach colored hair around her pussy was matted and dewy with jelly, and the opened, fleshy lips of her pussy glistened. The only movement in the tub came from the slow running of either juice or jelly from her pussy lips, as if she were leaking or cumming in slow motion.

After hours of staring, with a mixture of curiosity and care, he inched closer. His hand reached out and caressed her head. Her hair felt stiff, moistly brittle and her skull did not push back. It was like caressing a moss covered rock. But touching her, feeling her, broke the spell of separation. He felt sorry for and then a little aroused by her. His hand moved across her face, over her nose—no reaction. Her hazel eyes stayed moist, giving the illusion of alertness, but there was nothing behind them, no light, no recognition. Round, greenish pebbles with tiny black centers.

His hand drifted to her chest. Her breasts, almost as wide as his hands, gave in only slightly, mainly underneath. But the skin was stiffer and smoother the closer his fingers went to the rigid pink diamonds of her nipples. Her nipples, he realized, were so aroused, they seemed to be thrusting even now. But they weren’t. They were solid, inflexible. He placed his hand on her leg, which swayed like a tree branch. The muscles were so taut there was very little give to her skin.

Her slowly leaking pussy was what he wanted to study. Her legs were separated—she was definitely spread. He tried to move a leg gently but her entire body moved, lightly, effortlessly, solidly. He let go and she rocked back to position. The confines of the tub and the fixed bend of her legs made it too cumbersome to get really close, so he slipped his fingers down and drifted them across the rubbery folds of her lower lips. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but these were not the soft petals that people wrote about. When his fingers started to tingle, re remembered the jelly and wiped his fingers on his t-shirt.

He sighed, frustrated, annoyed with having no answers no plan but to keep waiting. Having touched her and experiencing how closed off she was, he began to pity and even love her a bit. She was really beautiful now and needed someone to save her. His eyes wandered more: the sinewy clench of thigh muscles, the twisted ropes of her calves, even the little rises and shallows of tiny muscle mounds in her strong, bended feet as well as the tight corrugated skin folds stretching between arch and instep. He ran his hand one more time over her leg, down her thigh and over her stomach. He tapped his fingers across her rubbery pussy. Maybe this would wake her up, getting her off. He rubbed in tiny circles, even entered her. She wasn’t warm and didn’t clench. She was just open and lubricated. For the first time he though about joining her in the tub and fucking her immobile body - she’d never know, right? It was an awful thought and he left the bathroom.

IV.

By morning, her skin was turning more pink, even a little rubber-tight which was another cause for worry because he deduced that whatever else the jelly had done, it probably kept her alive. But now that he was looking closely, he realized the girl’s skin was blushing, the pink billowing throughout her body. Except for her left shoulder, which was highlighted by a corner of the morning sun coming down from the window overhead.

Kelvin latched onto that small discovery with hope. Now it was all about waiting for the sun to climb higher, and spread a longer, brighter blanket of light across her. And with that bit of hope, he tried different things. He tried to feed her with a spoon, though the food only sat cradled in her open, kissy looking mouth. Same result with water. Except that the warm tea he tried created reassuring, reanimating color and texture of her skin wherever it dribbled from her lips. So the shower was turned on, and kept on, and the girl’s body gradually turned a healthier shade of pink, then white, and then even a little buttery tan of recognizable health. Kelvin kept the shower on, but retreated to his bed. Whatever was happening to her was a great relief, he decided, and when he lay down it was very easy to sleep.

He woke with a startle. He had been nudged, and when his eyes focused, there was the girl, wet haired, wrapped in a towel, standing by herself. Her eyes were tired and adjusting to light, and her face was streaked with flushes, residual hints of fear from the last time she was aware of herself and her surroundings. But here she was, in front of him, living, breathing.

“Where am I?” she asked. She sounded foggy-headed.

Kelvin had a thought that he shouldn’t move too quickly or unpredictably. “In my house.” He was relieved he hadn’t tried to fuck her.

The girl’s eyes moved about, tentatively. “And that is ...?”

“Lima Street. In Dragerville.”

She moved a towel over her head. Even exerting herself this much seemed a difficult thing to do.

“I don’t really know where that is. I was ...” The toweling stopped. “I was ...” She sank to the bed and sat on the side edge facing the wall. Kelvin stayed lengthwise behind her and watched her back expand with a deep sigh. “I wish I knew.”

“Wish you knew what?”

“Whatever it was I doing or trying to do before I ... realized I was under a steamy shower, naked in someone’s tub, some guy’s tub... I’m sorry.”

“I helped you,” he offered. “Do you remember anything?”

“I have—well I don’t know. I think I have memories. I don’t know” She gave a small shrug, giving up. She was embarrassed. I’m-not-that-type-of-a-girl embarrassed.

She was being vague and didn’t like it. He says he helped, she thought. I should at least not come off nervous. Then again—she looked around the room. She didn’t know if she was still in danger or not. That wasn’t good. Not good. Project bravery, she thought. Resolute confidence. She braced herself.

“Am I being kidnapped or what? I’d really like to know what’s going on here.”

“No! No you’re not. You’re ok. I found you..” He started to laugh. “God no. You don’t ... no.”

“Where?”

“I found you in the middle of nowhere. Under some high voltage wires near the woods. In—" Kelvin seized up at the weird direction he was about to take her. He thought a moment about finding her naked, incased in industrial jelly, carrying her, examining her—not to mention getting turned on by her. “I just found you. Pretty much how you are now. It took me all night but I finally figured out what you needed was a warm shower.”

They wound up looking at each other for a long moment, trying to make sense.

Soon she broke the spell. She nodded, pleasantly. “Thanks.

“I feel like I avoided something really huge, really fucked. That’s all I know. Can you tell me anything more?”

Kelvin didn’t want to. He shook his head. He wasn’t good at lying, so he started to talk. “I just ... like I said, found you naked and brought you back here ...”

Right away she knew something was up. She took a step back, away from the bathroom and the corner of the bedroom, to more open space. Enough space to run. “You need to tell me more than that,” she said. “I’ll help you. I was going somewhere. With my friend Lauren.” She stopped, new memories popping up. “Where is she? I was with her when everything...”

“I only found you.”

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know. Really.”

Getting up her guard and moving suddenly reminded her how wracked her body felt. She stayed upright, tried not to give anything away, but her muscles ached and her head spun a bit. She closed her eyes, a big giveaway. She clenched her teeth.

“Was she with me when you found me? Maybe you could only take one of us. Is that it?”

“No. I didn’t see anyone else. It was you and only you, covered in ... I would’ve noticed something else.”

“Covered? You mean by a blanket? Carpet? What?”

Kelvin cursed himself. “No, you just had this stuff all over you.”

Whatever he meant by that hung in the air between them for a moment. When she climbed out of the tub, she noticed bits of gunk all around, glistening. She couldn’t help touch it when she grabbed the side of the tub and some of it clung to her body and slid off onto the floor. She wondered what it was, but a thousand other questions got in the way. Covered in who knows what meant it was against her will. And if this kid hadn’t smeared her with it, he saw her in it and she began to feel vulnerable. But what sick fuck would capture her and smear her with shit and then dump her in the middle of nowhere? She let it drop.

“We need to go to the police.”

“Ok.”

She took a deep breath. He wasn’t going to fight. Maybe he is a knight in shining armor. “Thanks. I need to sit down, though.”

Kelvin sprang up, offering her the bed. She lurched forward leading with her knee and fell onto the bed. She wasn’t sleepy—her mind was racing—but her body felt like it’d been drop kicked a thousand times.

“I’ll find you some clothes,” he said. “Do you want something to eat?”

She nodded.

She curled up on her side. Bending her knees, she relaxed a little.

IV.

As her mind slowed down some, she floated into a weird déjà vu. She remembered how things slowed down, how time and space slowly eased up and then didn’t matter. Like being tired. But happy, like being on some great depressant. And then it was followed by a life-in-a-bubble feeling, where everything was bent around the edges and nothing made sense, and then, even laying there on that boy’s bed, she remembered and actually smelled that lemony odor. That smell that gave sense and meaning to everything happening. She could smell it now, but the more she did, the more it turned sickly, with morning after revulsion. She wanted to get up but rolled backwards and just stayed looking at the ceiling.

Then it cam, vague but trustworthy.

“Oh my god.” She put her hands up to her face with the memory, smelling it on her skin.

“What?” Kelvin asked. He stood holding a shirt and martial arts pants.

“I still smell like it. I mean—" How to find the words? Inhale, collect. “Something happened to me and my friend, And there were a bunch of others.”

Memories and emotions were colliding. She fought back sobbing, and succeed only because her mind was racing for some clarity, see through the confusion. “This is so fucked up. I can’t even begin describing how fucked up it is.

“I don’t even know where to begin or what to do. What do I do?”

Kelvin stayed at the foot of the bed. “About what?”

She was panicking. She knew it. Babbling incoherently. The memories, the images, scared off by the force of her panic, began retreating. She couldn’t keep them with her, slipping away.

She blinked and tried to collect herself all over again.

Kelvin sat at the foot of the bed, perpendicular to her. He noticed, on the side of the bed opposite the bathroom, just beyond her, the spreads of a few girly mags tossed to the floor from the day before. She hadn’t seen them, right? She would have said something, Like gross. Total dread and embarrassment. He wanted to keep her looking over here at him.

“What is it?”

She gave it a try. “I was in this place, this ... a hotel? It was like a hotel, a resort, a b&b. An inn. Like an inn.”

“An inn?” He stood up, with the thought that he could drag the direction of the conversation with him.

“With Lauren, because someone recommended it to her, and .... Tommy! Tommy was supposed to meet us!” She turned to Kelvin. And stopped talking. It was useless describing something like this to a stranger.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m sorry...” she mumbled and wanted to fall asleep. “I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

Kelvin wiped the edges of his lips with his fingers. He couldn’t help staring, but he wanted to know what was going on. Something was happening.

“What were you going to say?”

She wasn’t sure. She knew though, that she was digging into something here, wanted to proceed cautiously. Maybe just keep this stuff to herself.

“Can I have a shirt, please? Something...”

He leapt up. “Yeah. Yeah.” He handed her the shirt and loose black pants. “I’ll leave the room.”

“Thanks—”

Broad smile. A bony, awkward boy.

“Kelvin. I’m Kelvin.”

She gave back a smile and hid it again looking down on the shirt. “Julia.”

He lifted his hand heavily, awkwardly—this isn’t the time for pleasantries, dude, he thought. Kelvin moved around the corner, out of sight, but still in the basement. “You were saying?”

“I don’t know what’s going on,” she mumbled. She tugged the track pants over her hips and lay down on the bed. “All I remember is Lauren’s boyfriend—fiancée—was supposed to meet us, and he never did. And it was like—I remember thinking he never would, there was no way he could find us. The three of us were going to check out this place to hold their wedding, a place where the wedding party could just spend the night and they could get married in a meadow.” Rambling ...!

He waited for more, but she was quiet. Was she dressed yet? “Sounds nice.”

Julia turned herself over onto her stomach, and stretched out. “Any way, we were trapped there with a whole bunch of other women. And only women. And then the air turned this ... smell, you could taste it. And you could feel it, like you were in—I was in a hallway, and feeling vapors or feeling something, and getting pulled away. Like slipping away, or ... giving ... up. I can almost reenact the whole thing. It’s like I smell it in my hair.” She brought her hand to her nose. “Or on my skin. Uggh...”

Kelvin came back around and stood still. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her. He was used to staring at pretty girls, making eye contact. He knew he wasn’t shy. But this girl was older, more animated, or maybe it was smarts, or something he couldn’t put his finger on. She was out of his league somehow and all he wanted to learn was which league.

The girl breathed out again, agitation expelled. She cupped her hands together, placed them over her eyes and nose, fingertips touching her forehead. She breathed a few more controlled breaths. “I’ve got to figure this out now,” she said.

Kelvin waited politely a couple of minutes but nothing happened. So he spoke up. “So, about food?”

“Yes, please, anything. Thank you.”

Kelvin retreated slowly. “I’ll just be a minute ...” he said and began climbing the stairs. “I have some frozen pizza. And then we can go to the police.”

“Ok,” was all she said, distracted. From between the railing he saw the girl notice the magazines. Reach down. Pick them up. Overcome with embarrassment and the thought that if he wasn’t caught watching her they’d just forget the whole thing later, he headed up the stairs.

And missed what happened next. When she saw porn magazines, she didn’t react. So much as gulped. She was moved to reach them. Her throat involuntarily clenched, drawing something she needed downwards. Swallowed. Something that wasn’t there but that she wanted. Which scared her. It was the same instinct as before, the gulping, the sucking down. Ingesting it. Like air and water and food, together.

The pages floated over her fingers. Her eyes focused on a spread of two women, nevermind that they were in the back of some gearhead’s fantasy pickup truck, in some kitschy pose featuring the blonde straddling the face of the brunette, brunette’s hands splayed wide, gripping the meaty hips of the blonde whose legs thrust behind her, her ass up, pussy pushed onto the face of the brunette, whose own face disappeared into the slippery crack of her lover, meshing her lips and tongue with the gushing fleshy lips ....

Dizzy spell. Loss of breath. Julia wasn’t even looking at the page any longer. She was drifting, floating taking in the lemony air through her nostrils and enjoying the loss of control.

Lauren floated towards her, beautiful pearly Lauren, still glowing like a bride to be. But now Julia’s bride. They both knew it and that was what made them smile. Their eyes made contact, agreeing that this was the happiest possible moment: they were chosen to be together. Julia felt herself spin slowly. Only now did she realize she loved this part, the outside control. Her legs crooked slightly and opened, exposing herself wide open for Lauren.

For foxy Lauren.

For foxy Lauren.

Not in control of anything, her arousal gathered, was building and she liked that. Liked how she was going to make it with Lauren. And as the forces stopped positioning her and as she watched the same for her pretty Lauren, she gave in to the arousal. Juices dribbled across her lips. It felt so good to get aroused by this, like she was giving in to something long and pitifully denied.

When Lauren pivoted around, legs semi-bent and open, Julia caught a big smile on her face. She wants this too, the yummy randy bitch. As Lauren backed in, her feet tucking down under Julia’s armpits, ass in the air Julia saw Lauren crook that pretty ass even higher exposing and opening her pussy below. It was lewd and hot. Julia thought, appreciatively. My face is gonna get buried in there. Lauren eased back and down, her tits pressing against Julia’s stomach. From under her arms, Julia felt Lauren’s legs clench and lift so that her feet nestled into Julia’s hair behind her head. And finally Julia too felt her legs tighten and bend so that her feet rested among Lauren’s beautiful thick blonde hair. Both bent their necks and placed their lips on the pussy in front of them. Julia let go of a whimper.

We’re going to last like this forever, baby, Lauren said.

Holding each other so tight, Julia whispered.

Julia couldn’t tell if it was her own idea or not but when she found her tongue come to life in her mouth, she moved it forward straight into Lauren’s thick wet pussy, exactly at the same time Lauren thrust hers into Julia. Deliriously good.

I’m going to fuck you with my tongue, Lauren said.

Ram it. Make our tongues touch, Julia growled.

They began ramming their tongues inside each other. The terror and frustration Julia felt earlier was now driving her tongue into Lauren’s soaking pussy harder. It felt good, perverted, channeling the fear into pussygreed. As they drove each other to the top of orgasm, the white incandescence of orgasm began to spread over Julia, turning her mind off to everything but one single, permanent thought—RAM IT! - when something suddenly slowed in Lauren. A softening, a giving in. She began lathing her tongue lovingly across Julia’s lips.

She began making love.

Born to go out this way, Lauren whispered.

The tenderness dimmed the white light in Julia’s mind.

Better than anything, Julia said.

You’re my girl, Lauren said.

Better than anything, Julia said.

You’re my girl, Lauren said.

Both bodies relaxed and loosened, tongues and lips playing languorously, a Sunday morning sleep-in forever.

Julia was pushing her hand against the slippery nylon tracksuit, lost in arousal and being Lauren’s girl when she woke up. The air was cool and the air empty. Her lungs were heaving, her eyes focusing, her mind slowly coming into the present. Her mouth held a pool of saliva, and she swallowed.

“Oh, no,” she mumbled. And remembered.

v.

Shannon felt the strict, involuntary control lift like fog from her chest and shoulders. She blinked, wetting her eyes and which helped her realize she had had them open so long that they stung. She was upright, and moving. As her muscles relaxed, the relief she felt, and the exhaustion of having her whole body clenched, made her sag from her shoulders and she took a deep breath. Vague, wandering shapes moved in front of her. She wanted to wake up, but was so disoriented she couldn’t force herself to be alert yet.

When she fully came to her senses she realized was walking. The last inch of her body that was still tight—her jaw—she relaxed, opening and closing her mouth and wiggling her tongue across her lips. Her lips cracked slightly as if something dried there and the taste was salty and -

She remembered.

A gasp from behind her made her turn around. The girl was there, several steps behind her. Seemed she’d just woken up too. But Shannon sensed things weren’t right with her, with Mallory. That was her name. Mallory continued to choke and flush.

“Are you ok?”

Mallory’s mouth turned into a puffy squiggle and she nodded vigorously. She was crying.

“I’m so sorry,” Mallory blurted out. “I am.”

Shannon moved closer, suspicious. “Why?”

It took Mallory awhile to find the words. She bit her lip, looked away, blushed. Shannon realized the girl was on the verge, flushed with embarrassment. “For before,” she murmured.

“Before? Oh. Before.” Shannon moved towards the girl who stood hand hanging, despondent. Shannon felt compelled to take the girl in her arms and when she did, Mallory’s body collapsed more. They were the same height, but only because of Shannon’s platforms.

Mallory sobbed into her sweater. “I feel like ... I feel like I did something terrible.” Shannon patted her head. The strength of the girl as she sobbed pushed against her even more. “Shhh. You didn’t. There was nothing—”

“Yes there was.”

“Like what?” The girl didn’t answer, not for a while. She seemed to just want to stay snug in Shannon’s arms, which gave Shannon the insight that this was what mothering was about.

They stood still for several minutes.

“You can’t blame -”

Mallory’s face still pushed against Shannon’s sweater. She breathed in and out, collecting herself some. “Ohhh. I just want to say... I just want to tell you ...” She pulled her head out of Shannon’s chest and looked at her. Mallory’s face glistened, but her eyes were bright and clear. “I want to tell you that it was all real. That I really want to ... to be your lover. “I knew what I was doing when I got down on the floor in front of you.

Shannon took in a deep breath and sighed. Why was this happening? She looked at Mallory and thought You’re barely old enough to be my kid sister. “I’m sorry, honey.” She relaxed and stepped away from the girl. “I don’t know what’s going on. But someone ... put us together like that. Maybe drugged us, maybe wanted us to perform for—" She wished she hadn’t said that, really mess with this poor girl’s mind. “It wasn’t real. You have to forget about it.”

Mallory just kept looking at her, wheels turning, A silent decision was made. She nodded and then looked down and then off to the side, away from Shannon. This isn’t the time to explore sexual orientations, she thought. We have to get out of here. But for the first time in her life there was something authentic inside her bones. Nothing else in her life had been as real. She had found it and vowed to remember it. As Shannon walked ahead of her, her confidence and solid footsteps inside those platform heels prodded subtly at Mallory.

“This ... really ... sucks.”

The couch gave in comfortably when Cassie sat down. More than comfortable, really. It was reassuring and familiar. Not like home. But comfortable enough, and it still gave Cassie that small thrill that good hotels could give her. She’d been in a few hotel lobbies before when her father drove her and her sister half way across the country to visit relatives last summer. Compared to everything that was going on, the feel of a hotel gave her a little bit of courage.

But it didn’t last long. She saw that hitchhiker girl—Sandy? - sitting, with her hands folded on the table, not doing anything, not talking, just sitting and being irritating. Cassie didn’t want to talk either. She wanted to disappear into the couch, just go away. They were the first ones back in the room and they walked in silently, embarrassedly. And she only sort of pieced the whole thing together in a few seconds after she woke up and realized that the vague light she’d been walking towards in her dream was actually this hotel lobby. In fact, only when the other girl said, “Where is everyone?” did Cassie realize someone was with her.

But why she was upset that someone was with her drifted out of reach. She remembered being in this room, feeling weird, and then waking up again, like maybe twenty minutes later walking back to this room. With this girl.

With her. Like secretly dating. I’m with her.

But we aren’t dating, Cassie refused. She tightened her arms across her chest barely able to contain herself. The other girl was so stupid, just wandering around this room like some refugee and then sitting down at an empty table and folding her hands. That’s why Cassie headed to the couch and wanted to disappear. The girl with her was a moron and she was stuck with her.

Sandy could feel the waves emanating from the couch. She wanted to say something to the other girl especially because she seemed so upset. “Where do you suppose they went to?”

No answer. She’s too young to handle what’s going on here, Sandy decided and began feeling a little protective. “I guess they’ll be back.”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

“I’ll bet they’re still making their way back.” Sandy looked at the girl for a moment. Her body-english was all about disappearing. Sandy made herself remember back to when she was a camp counselor and was in charge of the 10-to-12’s. Even though she was 8 years older than the oldest she connected with them. They liked her and voted her Coolest Counselor. She looked at Cassie and tried to put on a I’m-going-to-look-after-you-but-not-crowd-you attitude.

Only Cassie was not a controllable preteen. She was all teen, coming on to queen.

“How are you doing?”

The little ball of rage on the couch was just not going to let her be helpful. And it slowly dawned on Sandy why. She put it together, like a detective. She’s 16? 17? And pouty, pretty, and probably spoiled. Doesn’t like to have things happen to her that she doesn’t expect. And she’s a cheerleader. Oh, god that’s right. A cheerleader. Top of the heap. Sandy found herself reliving high school anxieties. I can’t possibly rank very high to her, she thought.

And then a jolt. Cold and sharp up her solar plexus: I just made it with a cheerleader. Holy shit. She had never been into girls before, but there was something so destructively delicious about this: first off, no one will know and I’m not gay; second, doing it with a—sure, ok, admit it—a pretty cheerleader; three, the cheerleader would never have done it with me if she had to choose; four, little miss cheerleader was very much not cool with it now; five, ha ha; and six, little miss cheerleader sure loved it at the time. Called me my lady. My lady. She meant it too, submissive, doe eyed.

Sandy had said, wiggle that tongue deeper, bitch. And the girl did. It felt great.

Then Sandy felt awful. She’s only a girl. Totally overwhelmed.

“Hello.”

Marnie walked in still holding hands with Stacey and Beth.

She was the first to wake up. The girls were curled up on top of her. She felt their weight on her legs and stomach and then the sticky humidity between her thighs. She had come, profusely. Still drowsy with dreamtime, she tried to recall that one moment of orgasm. What had set her off. But it was a blur, a warm, queasy blur.

The ups and downs of this ordeal, the terror of being snatched away, the depths of arousal, the giving in, the lack of control and then this delicious memory-happy fatigue—was she happy? For the first time her mind offered up a tiny ounce of surrender. Maybe this is the way it’s going to be. She felt comfortable, loved, sated, even with two sleeping girls laying on top of her. Marnie had tasted them. Even in her drowsy state, she knew she had orgasmed from them, with them. And knew she was changed. Wondered if the plan behind this abduction was to make this change last. Then no one would blame her for feeling like this. She dropped her eyes to look at the girls. Her girls.

Maybe if we just stayed together... maybe after we all got free we’d meet. And remember. Maybe feel compelled to. Feel compelled to taste it again. That would be ok. Understandable.

What the hell are you doing? Marnie asked herself. Your only thought has got to be to get out of here. Focus.

Gently, but urgently, she woke the two girls up. And then had a little talk. Marnie wanted to make sure they were all ok, mentally more than anything. They both nodded. None of them tried to move from the heap of each other. From over her shoulder, Marnie could see Beth slowly compose herself, sleepily. Her green eyes open and close with more and more awareness. She seemed the one better off. Beth’s eyes held such pure conviction to be alright and to be strong that for a moment, Marnie fell into a weak residual arousal. The girl was a green eyed, no-shit-sherlock fighter, rising to the occasion. Watching Beth visibly fight to free herself of the stupor that was lingering, a brief ghostly memory of her daughter, Jamie, waking up from a long nap, passed in front of Marnie like a perfume.

But this wasn’t the time to miss home and family. Marnie moved her gaze to Stacey whose head rested on Marnie’s hip. Stacey stared upwards, smiling. She was wide awake, but with, well, a little mist in front of her eyes. The girl’s nostalgic already, Marnie thought. She wasn’t sure if Stacey was understanding all this or just falling in love with it.

As the girls groggily rose, no one said a word. The two girls rolled away from Marnie so that each of them had their own space and didn’t touch.

Marnie felt she needed to say something. “We need to pull ourselves together, ok? This is not something we’ve chosen, we’re not on vacation. We’re prisoners here and need to get out.” She sat up. The site of two naked girls curled up near her reminded her that she was naked too. Seeing the girls like this may have startled her at first, but Marnie quickly contextualized it, trying to sound light, off the cuff: it’s just like we’re in a sauna or something there’s nothing to be ashamed of here.

I’m the adult here, she reminded herself. That idea of meeting again, letting this continue? No good. Forget it. Get it out of your mind.

“Let’s find our clothes and get out. Ok? We’re in this together. One looks after the other. OK?” They nodded. “What happens...up there, or wherever we go... isn’t real. Ok?”

“That’s right,” Beth said. Marnie smiled.

“Ok,” Stacey whispered.

The three of them stood up, found their clothing and silently dressed. Beth was the first to finish, and started looking around. One wall was missing. There was just darkness but with a comforting, natural glow spilling onto the floor way off.

“Is this the way out?”

“Most likely.” Marnie answered. She grabbed both girls hands. “We look out for each other and work as a team ok?”

Again both girls nodded and silently they walked towards the light.

In the hotel lobby space, Beth immediately let go and made her way to Cassie who looked up and broke out of her slump immediately.

“Bethski!” she said.

Beth came dangerously close to crying, but held herself together. “Present, bitch.” They instinctively bumped fists.

“How are you doing?” Beth asked.

Cassie blinked, considered every possible answer but found herself offering, weakly, “Fine.”

Beth didn’t want to seem weak to Cassie, but had to know. “Is my mom here?”

“I haven’t seen her.” And then Cassie’s voice rose in panic. “I want to get out of here, B. This is fucked.”

“Me too. But I -” Beth thought she’d start crying again and then didn’t. It just didn’t come. He collected herself, sniffed, and said, “Where do they go?” She fell back into the couch, not expecting an answer.

Marnie walked up to Sandy. “Everything ok?”

Sandy nodded. “A little hungry.” Then looked at her. “How are we surviving?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought of food at all.”

“Me neither. I’m more bored than hungry.” She watched the cheerleaders absentmindedly. “Where are the others?”

Marnie sighed. “I’m still trying to figure this place out. We go somewhere. There’s a place where you see all the others.”

“I definitely noticed some of the same couples this time. They hadn’t moved,” Sandy said. “I saw my friends. At least they’re ok. And I saw your friend.”

“My friend?”

“The tall woman. Brunette. Whose friend ...”

“Oh. Susan. She’s not my friend.” Marnie felt cold saying that. “I guess we’ll all be friends after this.”

Sandy smiled. “I guess.” She lowered her voice. “I saw that girl’s mother too. She’s ... grouped with Susan.”

“I saw them too. Like you said, I saw some from before. They must be ....” They must be permanent fixtures was what she was thinking, but didn’t want to finish the thought.

The rap of footsteps on the floor made them turn around. Shannon in front of Mallory, who walked with her arms crossed and her head down, until Stacey ran up to her and hugged her. Mallory unraveled her arms and held Stacey, but looked towards Marnie. Her face was heavy and slightly red.

“You guys ok?” Marnie asked.

“Yeah,” Mallory offered.

“We’re fine,” Shannon said. “That was totally weird.”

Marnie nodded silently. She thought, Nothing’s going to get done without someone taking charge.

“Let’s sit together here a minute. Girls—" she called out to Cassie and Beth. “We need to powwow. Right now.”

vi.

Sunny felt great. She took a moment to witness feeling great while the rest of Bernie’s Wednesday yoga class chatted exuberantly. With her instructor’s words still in her mind, she followed her breath in and then out one more time and gazed out the window of Bernie’s enormous, plush Bronco. The woods flowed past silently until she twitched open the electric window and took in a facefull of clean morning air.

Sunny looked forward every week to this class. It dug a little bit into her purse, but a small consistent group, led by a woman who belonged on the cover of Yoga Journal, and who had the creativity to find quiet places, quiet natural places to practice her yoga—it all made the monthly premium worth it. She was getting friendly now with each of them, helping cement her commitment to hatha even more.

“Smells nice, eh” Bernie asked. A petite woman, strapped into the brown leather passenger seat whose armrest was bigger than her entire arm, the instructor looked a little child like sitting in this honkin’ truck. Kinda adorable, really, Sunny thought. The same for Bernie’s daughter, Hanna, who, though just a kid, a teenager, seemed steady and patient behind the wheel.

“Every morning should be like this,” Sunny replied, dreamily. She watched Bernie move her eyes to the rear view mirror, surveying the rest of the group.

A little bit of pride swelled in Bernie. The company didn’t think enough people would sign up for something this extravagant, taking a class first to a park then back down the hill to a spa then to breakfast. But these seven did, and this was their third time out. Point proven.

“I don’t think you wore us down enough,” Hanna said to her mom. “I want another round.”

“Well, hit the weight room when we get back to the gym. I have some paper work to do any way.” Bernie looked in the rearview mirror to the women in her vehicle, proud that she had such a great group to work with. A good mix of twenty, thirty, forty and fifty somethings.

The two twenties, Sunny and Kris pushed each other—they refused to slack off if the rest of the group took its time. Pretty Soraya, the lone 30 something was at her prime athletically, but was just learning the beauty of breathing through the poses. Siobhan, in her 40s was working through so much at work that her quiet dedication to the exercises was inspirational to the rest. And Dianne, at the top of her 50 something hill, told Bernice that taking her life and health in her own hands had completely remade her as a person, now that the nest was empty.

This is why I teach, Bernie confided to her husband one night. And her daughter Hannah, headed to university in a couple of months, came along for one last fling on the mat. But seeing her sweat through the warrior poses this morning was one of those quiet moments only a mother can appreciate.

Bernie was daydreaming along these lines when she felt the car shudder and choke out of the blue. A brand new engine. She turned to Hanna. Hanna too had felt something and was looking at the dashboard, concerned she’d done something to mom’s new car. It felt like they hit some mud, but when Hanna floored the pedal, there was nothing. The engine didn’t rev, even though, according to the dashboard lights, it was on.

Popping the hood, Hanna and Bernie got out to have a look. They noticed how humid it gotten. The air was thick and still and perfumed - pleasant, but strange.

“We must be near a lemon orchard,” Bernie said. She looked into the engine, not even sure what she was looking at.

“Looks good to me,” Hanna declared, facetiously. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

They stepped back and started to look around. That’s when Bernie noticed another car sitting on the edge of the road, about 100 yards up. She also noticed a ranch looking building off to the right. Hanna volunteered to go check out the car. Bernie stayed with the car, and toyed with the idea of going up to the house. After a moment, she noticed her breathing. Deep breaths, a slightly higher heart rate, as if she were getting herself psyched up for something. And began to feel a little distracted, as if standing outside her stopped car was a secondary instance.

A window hummed down in the car. Siobhan stuck her head out.

“Everything ok?”

Bernie heard Siobhan but didn’t feel she had an answer. She looked at Siobhan, at the car, knowing there were five other women inside it. But that was the extent of her relationship to it. It was a funny sensation. She felt her attention tug elsewhere, as if a yearning were growing slowly inside her, but she couldn’t place it. And these women - where were they all going?

To Siobhan, the non answer was not good. She decided to give Bernie her space, for a moment. After all, it was her car.

“What’s going on?” someone asked from the rear.

“I don’t know. I think we’re stuck,” Siobhan answered.

“Well there’s a house up there,” Kris said. “Let’s go up there.”

“Let’s give them a minute.”

Bernie heard Hanna approach. Where did she come from?

“We should go to the house.” Hanna said. She had jogged half way to the car when the inspiration to go to the house stopped her. It was the right thing to do. Where was she headed, just now? Nowhere, exactly. Maybe she should turn around and get the others to come with her. They would have to come. She’d see to it.

She approached the other woman—her mother, right?—and spoke the words in a way that sought agreement. “We should go to the house.”

Bernie stood still for a moment, her mind elsewhere. A strange disconnect between what she took to be their situation—a car broken down on the road—and this conviction that she knew what to do about it—go to the house—that mystified her. Why was she thinking this? It felt odd, as if not exactly her own idea. She felt detached from it somehow, puzzling over what felt like déjà vu, and the way it swept in, altered her consciousness a bit and then, back to daylight and awareness.

Hanna stood patiently, waiting for the woman to acknowledge her. This was her mom in this dream, right?

A residual wave of detachment swirled through Bernie then.

“Yes, we should go to the house,” Bernie answered. “I’ll get the others.”

vii.

The powwow was going nowhere. In the silence of a dropped conversation, Marnie looked at the women around her. She really missed Susan now, poor thing. Wherever she was. Who can replace her? She wondered. Who can help me help us?

Maybe they—we—are just plain tired, she thought. But no one had any bright insights, no germ of a plan of action. Marnie had posed a couple of solutions—getting past that invisible barrier to the counter was the main one—but just as she offered it to the table, she added “Now that I think about it, we tried that before this new group got here.” She gestured to Shannon, Mallory and Stacey. “It didn’t work. My ... apologies.” She sighed. Mainly with regret.

Ordinarily, she would have asked herself: why did you just shoot down your own initiative?

But she didn’t. As she was describing the plan—kidnapping one of the “sentries” as she called them, if and when they came in again - there was no reaction, not a heartbeat from any of them. Or so she felt. These are the people I’m relying on: two teenagers, a couple of community college part-timers and a bimbo. Great. And just like that - she was done.

Shooting down her own idea rewarded her with a perverse joy of self-defeat. She couldn’t possibly figure out a way out of here, not without someone’s help, and if there was no one to do so, then that’s it. She shut down.

For the first time in what seemed like days, she thought about her husband Roger. She remembered him awkwardly situating a ladder against the house that day, determined to clean the gutters himself after a long argument about which of them did the most around the house. The memory came to her so suddenly, loaded with nuance like the sunlight and his baseball hat she felt like she was standing again in her backyard.

She took her time wandering through memories of Roger. She thought of riding home in his car at night after a party, folding his shirts and tucking them in his dresser, placing her hand on his bare chest in bed. Yes, that was her real self. Not ... this. She wasn’t a lesbian, not willingly. She was never this ... helpless about herself.

Ok, clarity. Regroup. I’ve identified the problem correctly: something exterior to them was controlling them, their bodies and their minds, and whatever the controlling agent was, it was eroding their faculties. She looked at one of the cheerleaders, Cassie. Cassie was staring at her hands as a finger rimmed the inside of another fingernails. She stared at her nimble fingers and her heart skipped a beat. She remembered Kylie, her first. Her first forced upon girl. Woman. Girl.

It was a sad, partly regretful memory. Kylie had only just walked into this place and asked the group, “Is there a phone here?” A short tingle ran through Marnie as she remembered. Because immediately after Kylie walked in and asked for a phone, dreamtime took over and whooshed them away. Kylie didn’t know what hit her. The ascent was so abrupt Marnie felt a primitive, childlike terror race through her, like she was picked up by a giant and was about to be tossed to the ground. Until she was brought alongside Kylie, whose eyes were so panicked from having her clothes taken from her, suddenly naked, abducted, and her body maneuvered beyond her control. She could hear Kylie almost shrieking “What’s going on?!” Marnie, caught in a current, struggled to reach out to Kylie, a buoy, a plank adrift, to save herself as she was carried to the panicking girl.

Then the frightening loss of control melted away, which was also disconcerting. But the terror was gone, and not of her own doing. She just couldn’t find it any more. Her body moved lightly towards Kylie. The desperate wanting to hold onto the girl was rewarded with a smooth gliding against the young girl’s body, and for the first time, Marnie realized she was naked too.

That didn’t worry her. She was comforted even, especially when her nipples brushed against the girl’s skin. They moved side by side, and their legs rose open for each other, thighs twining sensuously around the back of each other’s heads as their faces pressed into each other’s warm, open center. She felt her tongue move out and enter the girl just as the girl’s lips puckered and rested delicately on Marnie’s folds. Slowly her clitoris unnestled itself. Kylie’s puckered lips found it and suckled. Marnie felt her hand reach over the girl’s hip and crook inside her ass, her middle finger resting casually on the tight brown dimple of Kylie’s anus. Marnie’s mind went to that hole as her finger started to massage and she experienced the thrill of her lover relaxing under her, giving in.

They both slowly made love and after a moment, when the heady thrill of making love to a young woman moved Marnie into uncontrollable arousal and bliss, she heard the girl whisper, “I’m a little fish. Please, love me.”

Marnie wasn’t so far gone to realize that the suddenness of dreamtime, the abrupt ascent and explosion of arousal must have truly whacked the poor thing. She sounded girlish, a little out of her mind, gobsmacked. “I’m a little fish. Please love me, ma’am.” Kylie pursed her lips and sucked at Marnie’s clit with a tender repetition that drove Marnie mad.

Marnie answered, “You’re so lovely.” For the first time in her life, she felt like she owned someone. That she was partnering with a little living sex toy made her bury her tongue deeper. No one would know.

Marnie shook herself out of the reverie, embarrassed. She quickly got up from the table and wandered away, as if to hide her thoughts. This is how it’s working, she concluded. First you start thinking about someone and suddenly you’re drawn into the whole dreamy passivity. And she was aroused now. Sitting near the window, she returned to Kylie.

After their dreamtime was over, she and Kylie came back together, just like she and Beth and Stacey had. But Kylie was in a different state. Marnie knew it, even when she tried to apologize. The girl was so overcome by whatever had happened that she simply sat on one of the couches the rest of the time, and was never seen again after the next dream descended, gone with another girl who also never returned.

Marnie came back to the present. The women she was with were still sitting in quiet. Not looking at her and not looking at each other. The quiet and stillness of the space, untinged with any background drone of electrical appliances, elevated the hush monumentally. Marnie looked at the faces at the table. The dilemma they were sharing in made them look familiar to Marnie, just for a moment. As if she had always known them. And Susan, and her friend Katie. And now the memory of Kylie filled a need for a permanent, sweet nostalgia. An old love, a first love, gone forever.

Bitterness formed between her eyes. I’m not going to be the only one working myself up to get us out of here.

This space—comfortable, quiet, serene—was fine. It wasn’t killing her. And the dreamtime... was pretty thrilling. Why should she being trying to get out, if not only was escape impossible, but the conditions were making her feel alive?

Getting out of here began to feel a little destructive.

Her change of heart felt like a long, heart pulling plunge. She looked around and tried on for size the deliciously underhanded game of seduction: which of these girls would she do next, if given the choice? The memories of arousal, of eating pussy and licking ass came back, filling her nostrils. Marnie looked around the table, considering each girl and the pussy she could scrub with her face. The blonde bimbo in platforms? She pictured herself moving in and burying her face between those tits. She examined Beth, looking away, her mind on something else. Had her. And petite Stacey, too, although she was on the receiving end, and oh how that girl rimmed her ass like fine china. If she had to pick someone, it would be the other young girl. Yes. The cheerleader Cassie. Young pervertable pussy. She felt her mind switch to a petulant hunger. If this is how it’s going to be, I’m going to take some down with me.

viii.

Marnie’s silent transformation went unnoticed by the others. In the stillness of the failed brainstorming, when anyone did look Marnie’s way, her expressions were pensive, longing, sad even. Mallory, sitting a few chairs from Stacey, looked over at her friend. Stacey kept her attention to the center of the table. She’s thinking really hard about getting out of here, Mallory guessed. And then she wondered: What was it like for her? Was she disgusted? No, disgust was too strong for Stacey who in the worst possible situations would have found a way to be apologetically tender. So, would she have liked it? Mallory didn’t dare answer. It would have meant uncovering again her own joy she discovered by loving, really sexually giving all to a woman, and if she let that out in front of Stacey, it could easily morph into a hungerwish to reach her lips towards Stacey and kiss her on the mouth. The thought of—the giving in to—kissing Stacey exposed itself briefly in Mallory but she tamped it down, threw it away. She knew she was getting good at submerging these impulses. Taking a breath, she wondered innocently how they wound up not sitting next to each other.

Being best friends, that shouldn’t be. She missed her closest friend, felt separate from her, and so she got up to move closer. She knelt next to Stacey’s chair and when Stacey turned to look down to Mallory, she looked so relieved to see her. She forced a smile and almost lost herself to tears.

“Let’s go over there,” Mallory pointed to some chairs in the corner, where the Indian girl had once sat. When they sat down, Stacey was silent and stared at her hands.

“What’s the matter?” she asked. She felt Marnie watching her, turned and smiled briefly. Marnie looked away.

After a bit, Stacey whispered, “This whole thing.” She stopped. Mallory moved closer so that their heads were almost touching. “I was with those women. I remember the whole thing. I remember it all, being ... " She caught a sob and let it go. “... Being moved. Being brought closer. I had to force myself to put my hands up to stop it but I couldn’t. And then being brought closer, I felt my whole body being taken over. And suddenly ....” She stopped again, and looked into Mallory’s eyes. “Mal—how did this happen? How did we get here? I can’t go through that again. I’ll lose it completely.”

“What are you .... what are you saying?” that you liked it? That was Mallory’s first thought. She corrected herself. This is comfort time. Don’t be selfish.

“I don’t know what I’m saying except that ... if we go through that again... I don’t know if I’ll come back the same.”

Shannon also drifted away from the table when that poor weird girl Mallory moved away. What a situation. Still, failing to come up with a plan, even a theory, was not as frustrating to her as it was to that woman—Marnie?—or the other girls. Sure, it was not a good situation, but this was just another problem in a long series of problems for her. The voice inside her had decided: she had gotten herself into this, another dumb move, and it serves her right. Leaving Mike like that in the parking lot, like a selfish bitch. She had this coming. Lucky for her disappointment didn’t mean much, except that it was a signal she should move on.

And that was when it occurred to her. Was there any moving on from here? She looked around, unable to find an exit. Her chest seized with fear. Am I stuck here? She stopped pacing. She stole a glance at each, curious if they were looking at her—everyone does eventually, sad to say. But they were all in their own worlds.

Shannon watched one of the younger girls—Cassie? -move to another couch. She was pretty and full of cockfire, but obviously upset. Her green eyes glared angrily over a trembling bitten bottom lip. Cassie’s controlled teenage rage made Shannon give up her own panic in favor of wanting to comfort the girl. A fellow cheerleader. Unlike that other girl, Mallory, and her crazy, embarrassing crush on her. That was really unsettling. She hoped Mallory would just ... go away and stop looking at her like a wounded doe. Cassie, Shannon thought, was at least unwilling to accept this. She decided it was better to join the girl, maybe offer some comfort.

“Mind if I sit down?”

Cassie didn’t answer.

Shannon sat any way, perching herself on the edge of the cushion.

“Are you ok?” she asked.

“How could I be? My mother and my friends are gone. I’m stuck here. And no one’s willing to do anything to help. You tell me if I should be ok.”

“We’ll get out,” Shannon offered.

Cassie looked at her. The force of her eye rolling moved her head and shoulders away from Shannon, freezing her out.

Over by a credenza, Sandy noticed Beth staring out towards the empty counter, where the robotic blonde had once stood. “Beth?”

“Sorry.”

“No—I was just wondering what were you thinking?”

Beth moved around in her chair. “I was ... I know we’re not supposed to concentrate too much on all the bad stuff.”

“That’s ok,” Sandy said, stepping towards her. Again, the old camp counselor instinct took shape.

Beth wasn’t sure if she should admit this. That she was more curious than anything about what Linda was thinking, or what she saw, when she walked into that space that opened up for her. What was it like back there? She didn’t scream. Or maybe no one could hear her if she did. She exhaled and relaxed her shoulders. Go for it.

“I was just thinking about Linda. How she ... just walked into that space. They didn’t you know zap her anything.”

“Uh-huh. She was pretty brave,” Sandy said.

Shannon started to listen in. With nothing to contribute, she didn’t want to mix anyone up with her own random thoughts, especially if they were smarter than she was. But what if ....

“What if one of us just jumped in there? You know, just got in there.”

“And do what?” Sandy asked.

“We don’t know anything out here. We should at least look around elsewhere.”

“Fuck shit up,” added Cassie, overhearing.

“A grain of sand in the machinery?” Sandy asked.

“Or maybe just look around and come back,” Beth added. “We don’t have anything weaponwise to do any damage, really.”

“How would you come back?” Mallory asked.

Beth shrugged. She looked to Cassie, who maybe could help her out here a little. But something caught Cassie’s attention.

“Hey... there’s someone here.”

ix.

A small crowd of women was gathering near the counter. A couple of them, seeing people, drifted towards them. Cassie’s heart sank.

Shannon also saw the group and quickly moved towards them. In a flash of inspiration she thought, Get outside before the door closes. She ran past the first few who were moving inside, saying “Don’t go in there.” But her words, her panic only puzzled them. Shannon brushed past the others, making it out of the foyer, through the front doors, outside.

Outside, the sun was bright. She was still running, convinced she was going to make it now, to the street, to her car. If only her legs would hold out. Running in those shoes was hard. They were heavy on her feet and her legs. She was working hard just to lift them and throw them forward, and soon her legs were heavy to lift, as if she were running in water. Just go, she urged herself, move damn it!

But just like that, she couldn’t do it. Shannon stopped, breathing heavily. The air was lemony, and thicker than any humidity. A thought appeared to her: Just go back. It was a thought from outside her. She could tell. She tried catching her breath while trying to listen to herself decide what to do, but the thought Just go back was so loud, so forceful in her mind, as if she were standing next to a speaker and couldn’t hear her own thoughts. She looked around. The empty field was familiar from earlier, with the same smell. She looked behind her. The house was only thirty steps away.

There’s no point in running, she found herself concluding. It’s too far. Just go back, she heard and she agreed: Just go back. Turn to the house and come back. Shannon turned to face the house and started to move. It felt better , easier to do just what came to mind. Go into the house and wait. She would go into the house, move past the people who were still inside and wait. Don’t interact with anyone. Ignore them, stand and wait. Stand and wait and be beautiful.

She pictured herself moving into the room, stopping and waiting, perhaps not even blinking, even when some of the women would come up to her and ask her what was going on. She wasn’t going to answer them, though. She was going to stand tall and firm right where she stopped and wait. She knew she was beautiful and now she would stand still and be beautiful for the others to see. Her head was clear, her mind was silent.

Shannon’s body walked into the house, moving through the crowd of newcomers who were asking questions of the others in the parlor. Mallory saw Shannon and was the first to come to her.

“What happened? How far did you go?”

Shannon didn’t want to answer. The girl was moving her lips but Shannon could barely hear what was coming out, and ignored the rest. It would be good to stand still and ignore her and the others. It would be good to stand and wait, like a statue. When her body reached the center of the room, it felt good to stop. Her arms drifted to her side and she only breathed, and waited.

The questions and angry disbelief in the parlor fell away as each woman reacted to the strange appearance of the beautiful blonde in platform heels who came to a stop in the middle of the room. Her eyes were open, blinking occasionally. No one could figure out what she was looking at. Mallory put her hand to Shannon’s cheek. “What’s going on Shannon?” she asked. The cheek was warm but not inviting. “Are you ok?” Mallory looked into her eyes and felt herself plunge into icy panic. Shannon did not respond.

“What’s the matter with her?” Bernie asked the women next to her, Marnie.

Marnie, struggling through her shame, realized someone asked her a question. She failed to find the words. “I don’t ....”

But couldn’t finish. The contours of the room began to melt and go black as the unmistakable sensation of dreamtime took them away.

xii.

The sudden, unexpected violence, the mouse terror of being snatched up and away by something bigger and stronger, terrified Bernie. Her stomach clenched and her body tightened, waiting for a fall. Screams swirled inside her mouth, but nothing came out. She couldn’t hear a thing. When the fall she braced for didn’t come, the involuntary screaming subsided. She discovered she could collect herself, even without the control of her body. With a deep inhale she let the lack of control vanish. But when the stuffy silence pressed itself against her, her helplessness lingered.

Relaxing—or accepting—just enough, the terror ebbed and she drifted in blackness. Taking her own readings, Bernie found herself dangling in a semi-seated position, a deadman’s float. And she wasn’t blind. As her eyes grew used to the dark, the oppressive blackness pushing at her gave way to spatial distances. She tried to maneuver herself using her arms but they were useless. She concentrated, but couldn’t connect with them, or her fingers which remained extended, but ungrasping. She couldn’t move her hips either, or legs, or her neck. Only her eyes darted around trying to take in where she was or where she was going. She only knew she was drifting backwards.

She could make out the edges of darkness about seven or eight feet away from her when suddenly a contour, a shape of something glided slowly past her, just on the edge of visibility. Her eyes fixed on the gently curving shape until it made sense: a thigh and hip. The thigh clenched and lifted itself on an angle above the hip. A moving body - it quietly startled her. The quiet cracked open too, with murmurings, voices she couldn’t make out but hear. She became conscious of other bodies all around her, she could sense them, all warm and alive. They were all around her, but because she couldn’t move, she couldn’t see who they were. Instead, she was carried past them gingerly, as if being parked. Gliding slowly past the thigh and hip to her right, she saw the torso lean in from the hip and an arm raise from the shoulder, pointing to the knee, stiff and straight. Legs spread open in a tight clenching vee.

Then a face passed her line of sight—Sunny. Eyes wide and fixed on a point in front of her. Her long wavy blond hair, cut loose from the tie she had earlier, hung down, also without moving. She was still and, it occurred to Bernie, in perfect straining pose. Without seeing Sunny’s lips move, she heard her young client’s voice clearly, a little child-like and dreamy, I’m your little boat. Sunny remained stiff, holding pose, eyes open, lips curling in a smile. I’m your little boat.

Is she talking to me? Bernie tried to speak.

Sunny -

But her jaw refused to move, her tongue lay fat and numb in her mouth. Sunny’s fixed stare meant she didn’t sense or recognize Bernie. She was animate, Bernie could tell that. But only because she thought she heard Sunny’s voice. Sunny’s trim, yoga-strong body strained in stillness.

A foot descended past her shoulder, flattened but bent at the ankle. Bernie watched the second body maneuver downwards, as naked as Sunny. Kris. Bent downward at the waist, hands in front of her. Downward dog, she heard Kris say. Tailbone up. Anus open like a lotus flower. Kris’s body came to a stop, her brownhaired bob halting between Sunny’s legs, within what Bernie figured was the warm triangle of Sunny’s crotch, without actually touching Sunny, the little boat.

Kris wasn’t moving either. Her legs were exerting themselves, pushing her hips and ass up, her back and torso straight. And then Sunny’s mouth peeled open. Her neck bent back slightly. I’m your little boat. There was another pause, as if some invisible mechanical crane that had just dropped Kris was now switching gears.

I’m your little boat.

Anus open like a lotus flower.

Slowly both women moved together, but before connecting, Bernie watched Sunny’s lips open and her startlingly wide, rose colored tongue fall out, as if it had been pushing desperately to leave her mouth. It lay over her lips for a moment and then lifted up, glistening with saliva, and started to wiggle. Sunny’s eyes and the rest of her face did not change—the tongue worked by itself. Bernie had known Sunny several years and thought she’d never seen her tongue, at least like this.

Kris slid perfectly over Sunny’s slightly upturned mouth as her own lips opened wide and sealed over her friend’s mound. Sunny’s eyes closed. Both were still, but Bernie could make out the muscles working along Sunny’s throat as her tongue worked deep inside Kris. No other points of their bodies touched. Sunny’s arms kept stiffly separate from the hips and shoulders of pretty pale Kris.

Bernie glided away from them. Goodbye.

There were other bodies, bodies and voices she didn’t recognize. Then, rising out of the blackness she barely made out the voice of her daughter, Hannah. Soft, whispering, not panicked, not in danger. Bernie shivered with relief. Only now did she have the wherewithal to even think about Hannah. She couldn’t see her daughter but the sound of her voice was lulling. We’re in this together at least. But how to get out of .... Bernie stopped. Her body started to move to the right and as she spun slowly, the body of her daughter came into view. Hannah’s long, limber body entwined itself around another woman, a woman Bernie barely recognized from the few minutes in the farmhouse. They were standing, or at least vertical, tangled together. Aghast, even stupefied, Bernie’s maternal impulse kept her staring at what happened to her daughter and the woman she was with. Bernie looked for trouble, pain or a plea for help. But nothing like that came from her daughter, other than whispering.

They were at the final stages of moving into position. Hannah’s right leg had spun around and hugged the woman’s backside, tightly, and the woman was doing the same to Hannah. Her shorter, but muscular leg gripped Hannah’s butt, while her standing leg had wound behind Hannah’s, until heel touched heel. As Bernie approached she watched them rise up onto their toes.

Hannah’s arms were also knotted, right arm hooked beneath left, crooked behind the woman’s head. Her palms met in prayer above. Her self-bound arms hugged the woman’s head pressing her face into her own, lips sealed in a deep open kiss. The woman’s arms were similarly twined, right under left, crooked behind Hannah’s head, palms straining in prayer, hugging Hannah. Both women lips mashed and worked against each others. Any other movement was impossible.

Her daughter deeply kissing this woman had to be against her will, obviously. As best she could, Bernie clenched and strained herself, trying to break free, trying to move and think on her own, save Hannah. But failed. Her efforts echoed only in her head while her light, sinewy body hung in space. The space was so quiet, the whispering she’d heard now made itself clear to Bernie: a cooing, wet and teasing and it made her heart sink, Suck my whole tongue you bitch, she heard Hannah say. The other woman answered, I will! You feel so good! They gasped into each other’s mouths.

The abruptness of her daughter’s transformation left Bernie unable to sort out anything. She felt herself hover, but her shocked mind could barely hold a thought, even as she noticed something move. Down below. Between her daughter and the other young woman. Something black, thick, wiggled out of Hannah’s center, her—her pussy. Like a stamen, it tenderly bent up and reached into the other woman. A small violent thrust finished its movement. Both shuddered around it, lips sealed, bodies constricted by their grappling, eagle-posed limbs.

You little bitch, Hannah sighed. Stuff me, the woman moaned. Their lips continued grinding against one another and the desperately aroused tone in their voices sounded to Bernie like they were nearing orgasm. But the last shred that her daughter was somehow being coaxed or put up to this, maybe to deliberately frighten or intimidate her mother, melted away when she heard her daughter whimper with a pleasure that could only mean relishment. As if stretching, Hannah’s prayered palms bent backwards and slid between her lover’s palms so that all four hands were interspersed. The black thing squirmed once more and Bernie watched them shudder again, tightly straining against one another in a shared, claustrophobic orgasm.

Little bitch, Hannah sighed.

Stuff me, Stacey moaned.

Their writhing stopped.

Little bitch, Hannah sighed.

Stuff me, Stacey moaned.

Though her own body hung with paralysis, inside Bernie was awash with conflicting motherly instincts. Her daughter was alive and ok. But was she? Bound with or by another girl. Unrecognizably aroused. Made into something else.

Bernie silently moaned. The terror was creeping back—until suddenly the urge stopped. Her confusion evaporated. All Bernie knew was movement and a dim recognition of where it was taking her. It was dim, but she felt her mouth water.

xii.

Mallory recognized the updraft, lifting sensation right away. It still took her breath away and the instinctive panic took hold. She might have kicked and flailed, but maybe not. She didn’t think she could move. But she quickly decided she would try to stay as awake and calm as possible. Partly out of defense, but partly ... partly to relish what might happen next. She relaxed into the loss of control, felt her heart rev up and her throat swallow. A reclining, arm-welcoming Shannon was foremost in her mind. Mallory would convince her this time that her love was real and eager to please.

The satiny blankness, the little christmas lights, the soundless space all around were familiar now. She drifted. She tried to take inventory of herself, check whether any body part was responsive. She sent messages to her fingers, to her feet, her elbows and knees. Nothing responded. No body weight. Her head couldn’t—wouldn’t - turn. She relaxed again and waited.

But not for long. When she drifted into the thinnest reach of murmurings, she knew this time what she was hearing: women tenderly, exultantly orgasming. Bodies flowed past, frozen while entwining, stretching, pushing, grappling. Below and to her right she recognized the tall, slender bodies of Susan and Deidre, still connected by a kiss, their legs extending into the seated grasping embrace of Allison and Mrs. Southern: Let me die this way please so good my feet are kissed you are so sweet delicious Deirdreflesh so strong love me thank you so good my feet are kissed die this way

They’ve been here the whole time, Mallory thought. She couldn’t tell how that felt to her.

Other bodies floated past. A golden skinned Asian girl, her hands seizing the asscheeks of a powdery-pink skinned girl on top of her, her face pressed into a downy orangehaired pussy, while the girl on top cupped the asian girl’s own ass with such fervor she’d lifted ass, thighs and lower back and dove, tongue first, into the golden-skinned girl’s center. It was a feverish moment for both. Mallory couldn’t make out which voice belonged to which: Gimmee! and God you’re gushing! How long have they been like that, she wondered. When her mind peeked at a possible answer—a long time—Mallory felt her nipples harden.

Three more women were still entering position when she glided close to them. Two of them were motionless already—a young, mocha brunette on her knees, spread wide, bending back from her waist, her arms supporting her from behind, hands on the soles of her feet; the other, petite and fatfree, was turning so that she faced down. Her legs bent at the knees, and she simultaneously grasped her ankles with pale, softhaired arms. The effort of reaching behind and tugging on her short, but sinewy legs lifted her chest high, like the bow of a ship. Her nuggety nipples pressed out of her skin as her mouth opened and her tongue slid out, wiggling with expectation. She stared straight ahead.

Mallory recognized the third woman, having just left her in the sitting room. She was one of the group who’d just come in. The jump in time and the changes between them startled Mallory out of her own weird revelry. They were naked and the woman—Bernie—was undergoing manipulations the others went through, eyes open and comprehending but with no other choice to act or respond. It sent shivers down Mallory. She was obviously aware of what was going on as her back slowly lifted up, and then up some more, arching drastically over bent knees on one end, her shoulders and head still flat. Her arms headed below her back, then bent at the elbows so that her palms supported and lifted her hips more. After a moment, she moved backwards.

Bernie could not stop herself. Her shocked, open eyes riveted Mallory until she lost sight of them as Bernie’s head slowly cocked back and her tongue, small and wide emerged. The other two women moved in closer until Bernie’s back-turned head nestled within the pussyspace of the brownskinned, backbent brunette. The third woman, a selfbound package, her tongue ready and wet, slithered into Bernie. Once all three were joined, their bodies rippled as they actively made love to each other.

Dig deeper, please, deeper

Lovely, pretty

Give you everything

Mallory had been listing and drifting, a forgotten little dinghy. She was captivated by the careful arrangement of the women, her mind lulled but dreamily aroused. She smiled to suddenly feel the touch of an outside energy, of attention now turning to her. She wafted upwards and began to spin slowly to her left. The hijacking was familiar and pleasant.

Take me anywhere, she sighed.

This was delicious, being brought happily against her will to make it with a girl. No one would know and everyone would understand. She was forced into this. Take me anywhere.

Then she quickly, superstitiously corrected herself—No, take me to Shannon.

She imagined Shannon waiting for her, arms lifted and open, ready now, accepting Mallory. She pictured traveling along the downy sweet smelling thighs of Shannon, lapping over the firm, jiggly tits, nuzzling her neck and smelling her hair, moving her lips at last down her swaying calves and alighting on the firm muscle of her instep. Her toes, Mallory dreamed, her pretty toes.

Moving through the blackness, Mallory was lost in her own dreams. It blotted out where she was going, what she was hearing, how her body grew heavy and unresponsive even to the force outside her when she came to a stop. Her mind had wamdered into a sweet, distracted fantasy tenderly kissing and receiving kisses from Shannon when a jolting blast ruptured through her head. A prolonged blinding whiteness obliterated everything and when it subsided, she was blank. She knew she was blank. The excited wetness in her mouth evaporated.

They are your lovers, she heard. They are my lovers, she thought and saw she was hovering over Bernie and the backbent brunette.

You Will Join.

I will join, Mallory agreed. It was fact, a truth given. That it came as fact started her juicing, automatically, all over again. I will be with them.

The bright mindwipe ebbed away enough for her arousal to begin anew. It wasn’t long before she felt deliciously posable again. There was no memory of Shannon. Instead the women near her became everything.

They were so beautifully arranged. She had watched them come together and soon she’d be added to them. She was glad when her legs pried open, delighted to be lowered slowly over the brunette and down even more towards Bernie. She could hear them again:

Dig deeper, please, deeper

Pushing deeper, bound so tight

Give you everything

Such a big body I have, she thought, a little proudly, as her hips touched down on the trim shoulders of the brunette. I will cover them.

Her imagination, momentarily left alone, wriggled free and she pictured herself descending onto the slight brunette, covering her like a tarp around a ball. Even as she lowered and Bernie’s body occupied more and more of her field of vision, her mind was stuck imagining the pretty dark brunette now out of sight. She imagined again how the woman was arranged, legs open, leaning back, hands anchored on her feet and her tensed, slightly yellowed soles. The thought of her little wrinkled feet enthralled Mallory. In her mind she was down there lips nuzzling the fingers and then soles of the brunette, licking, licking, imagining—even hearing!—the brunette’s delighted response lick my fingers, lick my feet, when the white burst of energy angrily burst in her mind again, blotting everything out. Mallory hung, mindcleaned. Corrected.

YOU WILL JOIN THEM.

I will join them, Mallory thought, forgetting everything except her current position. Her hips resting on the shoulders of the brunette, her own legs bent up at the knee, skydiving, and leaning forward towards Bernie’s wide, flattened breasts. Oh! I will join them! It was wonderful. She felt herself inch up and across the brunette’s face so that her pussy rested on the woman’s lips. Her lips, cavorting and struggling to free her tongue felt wonderful on Mallory’s own tender and dripping folds. Open for me she thought. Enter me. Enter me. And I’ll flood you.

And then she heard, Wet musky sucky pussy. She was elated. The brunette was thinking of her. The brunette’s lips and tongue worked up and down Mallory’s pussy walls, plying deeper, retreating, swirling, puckering and pulling. The sensations were so captivating it was like a second gift to realize her own face was resting on the taut breast and chest of Bernie. Mallory remembered the dreamy pleasure of recognizing Bernie before, this older, pliant woman and now, here she was, under her mouth. She was older than Mallory. Older. Mallory felt Bernie’s chest contract with every lick she was giving the brunette and that did it for her. She took a nipple into her mouth and sucked, ringing her tongue around the little dime.

Mommy tits, Mallory thought. Pretty mommy tits.

Sucking pretty mommy tits.

Wet musky sucky pussy

Give you everything, Bernie moaned.

Pushing deeper bound lovely tight

Mallory had forgotten all about the third woman and she guessed - hoped—she was eating Bernie too. They’d both eat Mommy.

All four were now deeply involved in licking, sucking moaning. They propelled themselves further, driving together as a unit, listening and feeling each other, obliterating everything else until, unable to take another second, their bodies wracked and jolted at the same time. They exploded happily into a white heat orgasm.

And became still.

Sucking pretty mommy tits.

Wet musky sucky pussy

Give you everything.

Pushing deeper bound lovely tight