This file brought to you by - http://www.mrdouble.com ================================================================================ From: ladd@cs.unc.edu (Brian C. Ladd) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: MNA: Satisfaction Guaranteed (mf mc sf) 01/02 Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Date: 20 Oct 1995 08:12:10 -0400 Message-ID: <4683mq$s4v@baldhead.cs.unc.edu> Reply-To: ladd@cs.unc.edu ============================================================================= Mindnumbing Archive Repost ============================================================================= WARNING The following is eroitc in nature. If you are under the legal age of consent in your local jurisdiction, stop reading now. If you are easily offended, please stop reading now. GNINRAW The curator of the MNA most likely did NOT write the story which follows. Authors, when known, are acknowledged in the body of the file. Assemble the various parts of related messages, removing everything outside the [BEGIN] [END] markers and you'll have the "complete" story. See the MNA Index posted to alt.sex.stories.d for chapter counts and synopses. If you have similar materials, please repost them, too. Comments, encouragement, and additional material for the archive gratefully received; flames, repost requests, and e-mail requests rapidly dispatched to the void. If you're an author in the MNA and you do not want your story reposted: Contact me at ladd@cs.unc.edu and I will remove your story from the reposting list. If you're an author of an Unknown story and you want to take credit for it, contact me as well, please. [BEGIN] Copyright (c) 1993 by jjd@world.std.com ("Jake"). Unlimited electronic distribution, one paper copy and/or magnetic copy for backup purposes only. MAY NOT BE SOLD. This copyright notice must appear with this story when distributed. SATISFACTION GUARANTEED Part The First A Tale of Erotic Horror by "Jake" This is the way the world ends, Not with a bang, but a whimper... Someone famous who's name escapes me... ~~~~~~ DAY FORTY FIVE 11:45 AM The new secretarial workstations were supposed to increase productivity and reduce eyestrain and fatigue. As far as Sadie Kravitz was concerned, it was a new tool used by Management to make her life a living hell. The had been working on the damned thing for over three hours. Her back ached, her arms were sore, she had trouble focusing her eyes on the screen, the goddamn noise coming from the machine was driving her crazy. And she had a headache that just would not quit. Worst of all was the stupid little logo on the equipment and the words under it: "Satisfaction Guaranteed." That really frosted her. Just one more little pile of shit on the compost heap of her life. In another five hours she had to go home to that lout of a husband, the one that made her home a living hell, as well. If only she had stayed with those tap dancing lessons she might have been someone. He had never supported her, the creep, after all her sacrifice. Now he was out of a job, and she was supporting the both of them. She was ready to jam the thing up someone's ass at the first possible opportunity. That would make her feel better. She had decided that she would do that at lunchtime. She looked up at the clock. Fifteen minutes until break. She gritted her teeth, and turned her attention back to her tormenter. She began to type again. The screen began that curious little flick! flick! flick! again, the one that gave her the headache. She felt the anger in her rise, felt the frustration in her reach the breaking point, and then something in her head went flick!, once. And then everything was quiet. It was so quiet it scared her a little. She looked back up at the clock. Ten minutes until break. She looked back at her terminal. The flickering had stopped. The noise had stopped. With a careful hand, she moved to touch the keyboard again. A curious sensation flowed through her hand as it made contact with the keys. She snatched her hand away. She looked at her hand. She touched the keyboard again. The same sensation flowed through her hand again. It was a warm feeling, comforting. "This," thought Sadie Kravitz, "is more like it." She began to type. The feeling of warmth and comfort became more intense as she typed. She stopped, really afraid. She almost got up to tell her supervisor at that point, but the rules were strict. And she only had five more minutes to go. She began to type again. The warm feeling resumed. Increased. Intensified. It was downright sexy. Nothing had ever made her feel like this before. She was afraid to keep going, and afraid to stop. Inertia kept her fingers on the keyboard, moving, dancing. Her breath became deeper, her nipples became harder. She was aware that she was becoming wet. If felt good. Everything felt good. She licked her lips, relishing the feeling. The swallow of saliva sent shivers of pleasure down her throat. A tickling feeling was beginning in her breasts and groin. Her face felt hot. The touch of her hands on the keyboard felt like kisses. She had not felt this good in years. It felt like soft hands were touching her everywhere, even the places she had never let her husband touch. She wanted more. She began to be aware of the other people in the office, and the other presence. It called to her, as it called to the others around her. It wanted to play. It wanted to play with her. Would she allow it? To play with her insides like it was playing with her outsides? So they would both feel this way, all the time? "Yes," said Sadie, thoughts of her husband gone, her office gone, her family gone, any thought of any thing except submitting was swept away. "Take me, please," she thought. Waves of pleasure rippled up and down her arms, around her breasts, down her legs, up her thighs. Her whole body was a sexual organ that was being teased stroked and sucked and cherished. She never wanted it to stop. Inside her head, she was aware of her memories, her motivations, her very self being stroked in a similar way. And her self was being changed. Parts were altered. Parts disappeared. Parts of the other presence were substituted. It felt like she was in many bodies at once. She forgot her name, although it was kept safe in another place, to be remembered at the appropriate time. She forgot everything about herself in a vast sea of remembering everything else. Sadie Kravitz was almost gone. What was still there was dimly aware of the other people in her office experiencing similar things. She experienced them as flowers of ecstasy that would open and blossom, now here, now there. As her own blossom opened, and the first orgasm of that day shook her (for her body would experience many, many more before it was forced by management to go home), she couldn't help but think that this was the best goddamn word processing program that she had ever used in her life. After that, there was no more Sadie Kravitz. If the new occupant could have wasted time thinking about that fact, it would have bid her good riddance, too. ~~~~~~ DAY FIFTY 10:22 AM "It scares the hell out of me," said Robert Tranner. "Production is up. Way up. Obscenely up." Bob Tranner was Sadie's boss. He was speaking to his boss, Howard Carpenter. "That's what the new equipment was supposed to do, wasn't it?" asked Carpenter. "They don't take breaks. They work through lunch. They go home late, arrive early. They work like zombies all day long. Some of them look like hell, they've been working so hard. And they're angry when I throw them out of here! I was almost attacked by a woman yesterday when I pulled the plug on her machine!" "How is morale?" asked Carpenter, who was always interested in improving morale, as long as it didn't cost any money. "Good. Unnaturally good. That place in there used to be a snake pit. Now, when they go home, when I can get them to go home, they're like family. All smiles and jokes. I tell you, something isn't right, and I think it's the new equipment." Carpenter considered this. "Bob, I can understand your concern, but productivity is up, as is morale. And we've got the year end report to get out. I'm not going to take the equipment out, but I want you to make sure people are keeping reasonable hours. If things continue to be 'weird', we'll pull the equipment. Deal?" "I'm not happy with this, but I'll do it your way for now. But so help me god, I'm not going to be the cause of anyone getting hurt by this equipment!" And with that, Bob Tranner left Carpenter's office. Carpenter counted to five. Then he got up, went to the door, and quietly locked it. He returned to his seat. He opened a drawer of his desk, and pulled out a laptop version of the secretarial workstation. He had to suppress a sob of relief as his fingers hit the keyboard. He greeted all of his lovers, and they greeted him. He couldn't wait for his implant, so they could all be together, all the time. Patience. He warned them they had to start taking their breaks and leaving at five o'clock. This was not received well, and no one had an orgasm for at least thirty seconds. Eventually, however, everyone saw the wisdom of this and agreed that it was a reasonable, short-term solution. But Bob Tranner must be persuaded to start using his terminal. Somehow. So he could join in the fun. So he could become another one of their lovers. So he could become one of them. So they could all become One. Orgasm. ~~~~~~ DAY ONE FIFY FIVE 7:23 AM "Whaddaya dressed like that for?" asked Mr. Kravitz. Sadie had undergone a strange transformation the last few months. She had lost weight. A lot of weight. She looked great. In fact, in the outfit she had on, she looked dynamite. This scared Mr. Kravitz, who was essentially a conservative man who distrusted change. Even when that change involved some of the best sex he had ever had. Even if Sadie seemed oddly disinterested at the time she was giving him that sex. He knew she was cheating on him, he just had not figured out how. Every time he called, they put him right through, regardless of the time. He had tried to talk to her about it, in his own way. "Are you going to leave me, Sadie?" he asked. "I will never leave you. You and I will always be together, I promise," she had said. Somehow, those words were not comforting. He was insignificant in her life, and he knew it. But she brought home her paycheck, and she brought him physical pleasure unlike any he had ever experienced. And she asked for very little in return. "Have you found work yet?" she asked, ignoring his question. He shrank visibly. He had been out of work for five months, with no real prospect of finding another job soon. If he had been a suspicious man, he would have found that question odd: the new Sadie never asked him questions. She was, in fact, setting him up for her next statement. She had been setting him up for this very moment for quite a while. "I want you to do something for me today," she continued. "I brought one of our computers home from work. There's a lesson on it. It's hard, but I want you to keep at it. There may be a good job in it for you if you do well. Will you do that for me?" He looked up at her. His heart skipped a beat. She was noticing him! Maybe he had a chance to win her back after all! He nodded quickly. She actually smiled at him. "Good," she said. "I may be late coming home tonight, but I will be home. Be sure you do your lesson, because I'm going to ask you questions about it." She opened the machine and turned it on for him. All ready. One more thing for her to do. She drew him close, and kissed him. Her tongue danced on his lips in a way he never taught her. It shamed him and excited him at the same time. She let her hands roam over his chest, touching him in ways that he never knew that he craved. "We'll do other things tonight, too," she promised with another smile, "wait up for me. Please?" In that hour, her husband would have gladly committed any crime in order to see that smile again. Especially while they were doing "other things." He sat down at the laptop, and started the lesson. The headaches started almost immediately, but he persevered for her sake, and for the promise of "other things." He was still staring at the screen and typing when she returned that evening. Of course, at that point it didn't matter, since he wasn't human any more. ~~~~~~ DAY ONE FIFTY FIVE 9:30 AM "Did you read the electronic mail I sent you?" a voice said. "Haven't got to it yet, what's it about?" replied Bob Tranner. He hated electronic mail. He believed in Management by Walking Around, although there didn't seem that much left to manage these days. There was no immediate reply to his question. "I'm sorry," he repeated and looked up from his paperwork, "what did you want..." the words died on his lips. Sadie Kravitz was giving him another one of her rich, inviting smiles. She had lost weight in the last few months, and she looked good. Real good. In fact, unless you knew her, you would swear she was in early thirties rather than her late forties. It was funny, *everybody* in the office seemed to be losing weight, getting trimmer, even his boss who had a thyroid condition and was chronicly overweight was looking more fit. Bob shook his head, as if to clear it. "I'm sorry, what did you say," he said. "I said, did you read my electronic mail message?" she said as she smiled coyly. It was weird. It seemed like most of the women, and some of the men, even, were hitting on him. But never this blatant. "Uh, no Sadie, what did you want to talk about?" Bob stammered. Sadie licked her lips in a way that made you think of other moist, hot places. Did they really make a shade of lipstick that red? "I think you should read my message. Then we can talk about it, O.K?" "Sure," Bob said, "I'll look at it this morning." Inside Bob quailed. He was terrified of the new hardware, and resisted using it. He was able to get a print out of his electronic mail fairly easily, though, so the headaches were not that bad. "Bob," said Sadie, forming her lips into a pout, "I wouldn't print that message out. It's rather personal." She gave him a look that let him know she wanted to get horizontal as well as personal with him. Then she turned and walked away, wriggling her fanny at him all the way to her desk. Bob had developed a crush on Sadie Kravitz the last few weeks. He was divorced, and had been living alone for a while. His personal life was non existent, his circle of friends was small. Then Sadie had made this transformation, and she had begun to pay attention to him. She made him feel important. She made him feel... Bob swallowed hard, and turned on his workstation. He avoided looking at it until it warmed up. He moused the email icon quickly, found Sadie's message, and began to read, fighting the rising headache. This is what the message said: Bob, I know I'm a married woman, and the feelings I'm experiencing are wrong, but I can't help myself. I find myself sitting at the desk, fantasizing about you. How you would feel, naked, next to me. I can't help myself. I'm so confused. I love my husband, I really do, but when you're near me I'd love to have your cock inside of me, and my husband's cock in my ass. Some days it's more than I can bear! Please help me, I don't want to do the wrong thing, I don't want to jeapordize my job, and most of all I don't want to hurt you! Your cock in Bob tore his eyes away. Ye Gods! what a headache! There was more, a few pages of it from the look of it. He was tempted to read the rest of it, but the pounding in his skull put him off. Instead, he deleted the message and walked over to Sadie's desk. He hoped his erection was not visible to the other people on his staff. He would be appalled to learn that not only did his entire staff know about his erection, they were counting on it. Of course, his new, efficient staff left nothing to chance. Bob reached Sadie's desk, and he began to speak, but his words died on his lips. She had taken off her coat, and he began to realize just how good Sadie really looked. Firm breasts peeked out of the low cut top of her dress, and from his angle he could see quite a lot. She had put on some kind of perfume, too, something that made him think of sex with each breath he took. In fact, the chemical Sadie was wearing would have made the office a wild fuckhouse. Since the chemical only affected humans, there was no one else besides Bob for it to affect. It was all Bob could do to keep his pants on and his hands to himself. Sadie looked up and gave him a look filled with desire. "Let's go into the conference room to talk," she said. She did not rise; she undulated to a standing position. Bob noticed that she was not wearing a bra. Bob followed Sadie into the conference room in a trance. Sadie closed the door and locked it. She walked around to the other side of the conference table and sat down. Bob took a seat across from her. "I'm glad I have this opportunity to talk to you, Bob," Sadie started, "we have to settle this." "I agree," Bob tried to say, but it came out as a cough. Sadie put her hands behind her head and closed her eyes. This pushed her bosom out even further. "My poor husband," she started, "I love him so, he does everything he can to fulfill me." She licked her lips and continued. "But when a woman grows older her desire increases. I've become insatiable." She opened her eyes and looked dead into Bob's. "I can't help myself. Bob, I need your help. Help me do what's right." She took a deep breath, which caused her bosom to heave and jiggle slightly. It was extremely distasteful for Them to be this artless. Time was of the essence in this case, however, and the scene did have its own crude charm. Bob tried to clear his throat, but he was having trouble swallowing. His eyes were fixed on her bosom. Her nipples were showing through the fabric of her dress. They noticed this. "They are pretty, arn't they?" she laughed. "Since I've lost all that weight, they've gotten a whole lot prettier. I even like to look at them myself." She took one hand and pulled the top of her dress out. From Bob's perspective, the top of her dress did not come down that much farther, just to the tops of her nipples. Sadie held that position for a moment, then looked up again. "They really are beautiful. Would you like to see?" Bob nodded weakly. Sadie smiled and slipped her arms out of the shoulder straps of her dress. Then she pulled the top down to reveal her breasts. They were magnificent. Bob was paralyzed with lust. "They're so beautiful," Sadie continued. She stroked one breast, then the other. "I like to pinch the nipples, just to see them stand up!" She took a nipple between her thumb and forefinger and gave it a pinch. She gave a little moaning sound as she did so. "The only thing I can't do with them is lick them," she sighed. She looked at Bob again, and said, "would you lick them for me? Please? They ache so. Just for a second?" Bob got up and walked around the table. He kneeled in front of Sadie. She gently took his head in her hand and guided him to a nipple. Bob began to suck. Sadie cooed and tilted her head back. Sadie's breasts were smooth and warm and dry, and Bob's tongue danced over them. Sadie laughed and held his head tightly to her. When Bob came up for air, he noticed that Sadie's dress had been hiked up to her waist. He stared at her pussy, his need obliterating all thought. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" Sadie whispered. "It's very wet, too. Would you like to feel?" Without waiting for a response, Sadie led Bob's hand to her groin. She was indeed wet. The smell was overpowering (as it was designed to be). He was helpless. He felt her shiver has his hand was pressed into her sex. "Would you like to feel that wetness with something else?" she whispered in his ear. She unbuttoned his pants. He placed her on the conference table and slid himself into her. He felt her clinch him and he nearly passed out with delight, so great was his need. She rotated her hips, and he began to move in unison with her. She laughed and pushed herself hard into him. He groaned and hurled himself into her in response. She gripped his hips and moved him, she locked her legs behind him and pushed him. He had never felt this primal before. He was reduced to a fuck machine, and all that mattered was driving his cockmeat into her again and again. He screamed when he finally came, a long, animal howl that could be heard on the next floor. There were few human beings left there, however, and those were involved in little games similar to the one Bob was involved in. It seemed like he came for a long time. Bob fell back off of Sadie, spent and shivering. He crumpled onto the floor, exhausted. Sadie stood up, adjusted her dress, and kneeled down next to Bob. Her body was filled with a delight that They all savored. Bob was a passable fuck, even though he was still merely human. He would be truly outstanding once he had joined them. There was one last duty to perform. For Bob's sake. She whispered in his ear in a way that would tug at his cock, even in his condition. "It makes me so hot to know you're reading my mail," she said. "I'll send you another tomorrow, and we can talk about it some more." She wriggled out of the conference room, leaving him on the floor with his erect, wet cock hanging out and his pants around his knees. In the office, his performance had been noted. His body would be a welcome addition. Ms. Dunlap in accounting was giving them a very hard time, and he would be needed to persuade her to read her electronic mail on a regular basis. Ms. Dunlap had a crush on him, and that could be used. To help her to do the right thing. To join Them. To become One. Bob was Theirs the very next day. Bob's new owner laughed in delight long after "Bob" had been obliterated, it felt so good. It was such a relief not to be human any more. ~~~~~~ DAY THREE HUNDRED 2:15 PM Betty Wood grimaced as the fourth helicopter of the morning swooped overhead. This one was at tree top level, also, and the noise was deafening. It sprayed that gook everywhere, just as the other three had done. She wondered if all this was really necessary to kill a few mosquitoes. She had retired to Florida to get away from all the noise and the rush, and it seemed to have followed her down here. This incident would generate a letter to the Mayor's Office, no doubt about that. Betty was a quiet woman, not given to outbursts of temper, but mercy! This had been going on for a week now! She retreated to the relative serenity of her garden. She had the illusion of peace there, at least. She loved her garden, horticulture was her passion. Not that she didn't love her husband, Joe (she smiled at this), but he could be such a nuisance sometimes. At least plants stayed where you put 'em. Usually, that is. She tried to block out the sound the TV was making. It seems that the cable company had developed some trouble, and the video and audio quality had just gone to pot in the last few days. It was awful. But they were broadcasting an investment program, a really interesting one, Joe said. So Joe was inside getting a headache and trying to make sense of what the analyst was trying to tell them. Everybody was rushing to get rich. That's why she liked her garden: things moved at their own pace, and it was no use trying to hurry them up. She missed her Joe out here. He hated gardening, but did it just to be with her. He had even braved the helicopters of the last few days do dig weeds with her. The weeding was done. She needed to go to the Crissman's down the street to "borrow back" their sprayer so she could lay down some fertilizer. And wash off the goop the helicopters were spraying, she added grimly. No telling what *that* was going to do. She walked around to the front of their little rancher and walked down the street to the Crissman's house. She walked up to the door and rang the bell. She waited. No answer. "Funny," she thought, "their car is in the driveway. And somebody's always here." She knocked this time. As loud as she could. No answer. A cold dread collected in the pit of her stomach. She tried the front door. It was unlocked. She walked in, timidly, and called their names. There was no response. But the TV was on in the living room. She called their names more loudly this time. Her answer was the blare of the TV. Betty took a deep breath and walked into the living room. Charlie Crissman sat in his rocking chair. There was a Coke next to him on the side table. There was a grimace on Charlie's face and his eyes were glued to the set. Charlie was dead. There was no smell, so he could not be more than a few hours gone, not in this Florida heat. Betty forced herself to look at the rest of the living room. Estelle, Charlie's wife, was in the corner, sitting on the floor with her back against the wall. The telephone lay limp in her hand. Betty never thought a grin could be horrible. The grin on Estlle's face was horrible to behold. Almost obscene. Betty was starting to get a headache from the TV. She backed out of the living room, and ran out of the house. She flew to the next house up the street, and beat on the door in a panic. The door swung open the second she touched it. She screamed into the house. There was no answer from within. She ran down the street to the next house. Instead of knocking on the door, she went around back and looked in the window. John Goode sat on his couch, watching TV, but he was not as good shape as Charlie or Estelle: there were flies crawling all over his rotting corpse. She screamed. Her world was falling apart, one house at a time. Joe. She had to get back to Joe. If Joe was dead, she would surely lose her mind. She ran back to their house. She threw open the door and raced into their living room. Joe sat there, wearing this horrible grin. What made it even more horrible was that Joe was still alive. "Betty," he whispered. His grin got bigger. "Betty," he said, a little more loudly this time, "I've got to tell you the most beautiful thing." "Joe," cried Betty, "Joe, they're dead! All our neighbors are dead!" Her whole body was shaking now. "Dead?" said Joe, the smile disappearing a little from his face. That, at least, was normal. "What are you talking about, dear?" "Joe," Betty wailed, collapsing on the couch, "I went to Charlie and Estelle's house down the street to borrow back our sprayer. I knocked and knocked, but noone would come to the door. And when I went in, they were both dead! And I went to the next house, and they were dead! I went to the next house, and the next, and oh god Joe I thought you were dead too!" She finally broke down and sobbed. "All dead, Joe! All dead!" "They can't be all dead," said Joe reasonably. "But just in case, I'll dial 911." Joe went over to the phone and dialed. He spoke a few terse words over the phone, mostly about what had happened on the block, and one strange comment about the crop coming in. Betty was too overcome with grief to give it much notice. "They want to talk to you," said Joe. He handed her the receiver. "Hello?" said Betty. "Mrs. Wood," said an authoritative voice over the phone, "please calm down. We have dispatched emergency vehicles to your location. We don't think you are in any immediate danger, but we're running a public announcement on TV. Do you have cable?" She confirmed that they had cable, and she was told to tune to a particular station. "Just watch that show," said the authoritative voice, "and it will explain everything you need to know to keep yourselves safe. Don't leave your house, O.K.?" Betty promised the voice that she would do all that they had asked. Joe turned the TV to the channel where the public address was supposed to be running. It was a religious broadcast. It was talking about something called the Rapture. None of it made much sense, but Betty forced herself to watch, even though she was getting one of her headaches again. Joe sat next to her and put a protective arm around her. Good old Joe. She didn't know what would become of her if it weren't for Joe. Concentration was becoming harder, and the pain in her head was getting worse, when all of a sudden, something in her head went flick! and the most wonderful feeling swept through her. It was warm an alive and vital. She looked at her Joe. Joe was giving her the biggest smile! And it startled her when she felt the same smile on her face, too! The man on the TV blathered on about the Rapture, and it would have made more sense to Betty now, but she and Joe were too busy groping like teenagers on their living room couch. There wasn't much time for either of these bodies now. Betty wrapped a rubber band around her husband's cock when it was hard enough to slip into her. She dipped two fingers into her snatch and smeared "Till Death Do Us Part" in pussy juice on his chest. The new occupants of their bodies laughed at this morbid witicism. Then they began to fuck each other like they were twenty five. When the clean up crews came to their house some two days later, they found Betty astride Joe on the couch, his cock still embedded in her pussy. He had died before she had (and before he was able to climax, which was a shame), but she had used his body to good purpose before overload had rendered her body useless, too. Bringing herself off multiple times on her dying and cooling husband was a nice touch, and had made an interesting spectacle for Them to watch. DAY FOUR TWENTY EIGHT 7:32 AM She opened her eyes, and felt wonderful! Sue Patterson took a tentative breath. No congestion. Her joints didn't ache any more. Oh, gods! She thought she had been at death's door! That was some wicked-as-shit flu! She got up out of bed. No dizziness. This was more like it. She looked at her TV. It was still making those funny noises and the picture would flicker every now and again, but it was a minor annoyance compared to how sick she had been! Those TV shows her "friends" had suggested she watch! Brother! She watched some moronic show about "The Rapture" for three days straight because she was too weak to change the goddamn channel. It was still running. She cut the power savagely. No more TV for a long while! *Damn* she felt good! She got ready for work. She listened to the news while she got ready. Nothing much going on in the world, just blah, blah, blah. In fact, things had seemed very quiet worldwide that last few months. Oh, there was still plenty of stuff going on, it just seemed less urgent. She shrugged. No news was good news, as far as she was concerned. She took the metro to work. It seemed less crowded than usual. Quieter. Less noise was just fine to her, and she enjoyed her train ride for once. The walk to her office was almost uneventful. The street people had all but dissapeared, except for one lunatic who had run up to her, grabbed her, screamed, "THEY'RE HERE!" and ran off down the street. People looked after him with wide grins and went off about their business. He was instantly forgotten. Street people had become invisible to her a long time ago, anyway. Things did not get super weird until she got to her office. This was not the same office she had left last week. Everybody had this smile on their face. This was an advertising office. Nobody was supposed to have fun. Everyone was too busy making money. She walked into the office of her co-worker (and occasional lover), Richard. "Hi!" she said. Richard nodded and smiled. "I gotta tell you, Rich old boy, your taste in TV has taken a nose-dive," she said, joking with him. "Don't quit your day job to become a critic!" The smile disappeared from Richard's face. "Oh?" was all he said. "Yeah," she continued, "that horrible show about 'The Rapture'? Condemned criminals deserve better. Where did you dig that one up, anyway?" The smile did not return to Richard's face, but a new emotion began to register. It almost looked like fear. "What do you think of the new crop?" He asked casually. "What should I think?" she replied, "I'm no fucking farmer. Hey, Rich, what gives? Are you O.K.?" Richard made no immediate reply. They were in a panic, now. They had found their first Immune. Actually, she had found Them, and had caught Them flat footed. They scrambled to reconstruct personality profiles of the people Sue had worked with, with Richard at the top of their list. Until that was done, They were going to have to wing it. Best to get her to work quickly. "Bradshaw wants to see you in her office right away," Richard replied. "New assignment." "Richard, why are you so cold?" They were occasional lovers, but Sue enjoyed having Richard in her bed. In another time, they might have been married already. "What's going on? Please tell me." Richard seemed to consider this. "Bigger things, Sue. Bigger than you and me. Go see Bradshaw. Please." Confused, Sue backed out of Richard's office. Richard let her go without saying goodbye. She made her way to Bradshaw's office. She knocked, heard the words "Come in," and entered. Ellen Bradshaw sat behind her desk in her neat executive outfit. Her secretary, Janet, sat next to her. She appeared to be taking dictation. But their clothes were oddly mussed, and a strange woman-scent hung in the air. "God," though Sue, "have Ellen and Janet been fucking?" She shook her head. Impossible. Ellen was a man-eater, but she was no lesbian. And Janet was happily married. "That will be all, Janet," said Bradshaw. Janet got to her feet a little unsteadily, and walked past Sue to the door. Sue saw the zipper on Janet's dress was not pulled all the way up. She noticed several other clues that said that Janet had gotten dressed in a hurry. Ellen looked the same way: thrown together. "If Janet and Ellen have not been fucking," she though, "what in the hell is going on here?!" First Richard's coldness, now this unexpected discovery of her boss' sexual preferences. It was very disorienting. "I have a new assignment for you, Sue," Bradshaw began. "It involves a new and important account. The Universal Church of the One God. The Church of One, for short." "Oh great," Sue thought, "all this, and my new account involves working with cultists. I should have stayed sick." "This is the usual public relations stuff, I suppose?" she said aloud. "Exactly," Bradshaw said. "A representative will be by this afternoon around 2:00. In the meantime, I want you to look over this video and tell me what you think." She handed Sue a video cassette. "O.K., Boss, will do," Sue said with more enthusiasm then she felt. As she turned to leave the office, she heard Bradshaw say "How do you feel, by the way. I heard you were pretty sick." "Yeah," said Sue, "I thought I was at death's door." "Were you taking any antibiotics?" asked Bradshaw. This was important. At it's current stage, the nanotechnology was susceptable to "treatment" by antibiotics. "Not for the flu," said Sue, "I try not to put that stuff into my body." "I see," said Bradshaw. She gave Sue a big smile. Too big. It was almost a leer. Bradshaw let her eyes roam over Sue's body in an admiring way. "Well," she said, "welcome back. Let me know what you think of that video as soon as you can." On the way to the video room, She ran into Richard. Literally. He dumped a cup of water all over her. "Oh, God, I'm sorry Sue!" he said. He had dumped it down her chest, and was trying to figure out a way to mop off the dampness without feeling her up. They finally found a towel, and got her mostly dry. "I appologise for acting so cold, Sue," he said. "Bradshaw's been acting weird lately. There's been a lot going on here that we need to talk about." "Like the Church of One account," Sue asked. She saw him gulp and nod. This was more like the old Richard, and Sue relaxed. "I have to see this. We'll talk later, O.K?" Richard nodded, and Sue went into the video room to watch the film. The glass that had been spilled on her had enough agent to infect a hundred people. The video she was about to watch would prepare a subject for Acceptance in twenty seconds, and there was two hours of film. She would either be one of Them very soon, or she would prove to them beyond a shadow of doubt that she was their first Immune. Either way, it was O.K. DAY FOUR TWENTY EIGHT 11:13 AM "This is the most boring, worthless piece of shit I have ever watched in my entire life," Sue said to Richard after two hours. "I can't believe people actually want to join after watching this crap. What do they do to their recruits? Drug them? Hypnotize them?" She laughed, "Hey, nothing short of mind control would convince me to join these loonies." Richard just smiled. They were having a good time listening to Sue go on about Their video. And They really had not thought it was that bad. Interesting. It need the Human touch, no doubt about it. Sue would be useful in many, many ways. It made her more desirable, too. The personality in charge of Bradshaw already wanted her fiercely. They were all eager to begin the fun. Patience, patience. All of this would have to be monitored closely. To Be Continued SATISFACTION GUARANTEED BEGIN PART TWO SYNOPSIS People's minds are somehow being altered or destroyed, usually by exposure to equipment disguised as office workstations. New recruits are gathered by encouraging them to use these workstations. Since this is alt.sex.stories, it is left up to the reader's lurid imagination as to how people were 'encouraged' in Part One. What we know about Them (as They like to refer to Themselves) so far: Jack Shit, Nada, Nuthin', Zilch. Except the seem intent on 'encouraging' every sentient being into joining. Multiple times, if necessary. Read on, and find out what price you pay for SATISFACTION GUARANTEED. DAY FOUR TWENTY SEVEN 8:23 PM "What's wrong with me?" Colin Butterwood said through chattering teeth. He was sick, he knew that. This was worse than the worst flu he had ever had. He was not looking for answers, he was just looking for a little reassurance. His companion had more answers than Colin could even dream about, but no reassurance. "You seem to be having a bad reaction to the agent I gave you," Margaret said, "this happens, sometimes." "What? You gave this to me? For God's sake, why?" he said. They considered Their answer. They checked him in a thousand subtle ways. They determined that he was not going to survive the infection and become Immune. He was just going to be dead. He deserved the truth, in that case. At least, a version of the truth he could accept. "Bear with me," Margaret said. "Have I seemed distant the last few days?" "Christ, yes," said Colin. She seemed like she was on the far side of the moon, for all the warmth and attention he had received from her. That's why he had invited her up to his cabin for the weekend, to try to re-light the spark. All that seemed to be lit was this damn cold. "The reason, Colin, is that I am no longer human," she said. "Margaret, don't play games with me. I'm sick, I feel miserable, and I'm scared," Colin snapped. "I'm not playing games. I'm not human. I have been changed by a bacterium. It gives me, among other abilities, a kind of telepathy. It gives me access to many lives, many lifetimes. I am living and growing hundreds of times faster than you possibly could. The reason I've been distant is I've been outgrowing you. I brought you up here," Colin raised his eye at this, "so you could join us. I have not stopped loving you. If anything, I love you more. It's just that I cannot love you as an equal. So I introduced the bacteria into you last night, while we were making love. But your body has found a way to fight my infection." Close enough to the real truth. It would have to do. "This is insane. If you are no longer human, why are you telling me this?" he snapped again. This was taking a lot out of him. "Because there is an excellent chance you are going to die," she said, "and we decided it was only fair to tell you why you were going to die." "I'm going to die?" Colin's face went paler than it already was. "We give you a one in five chance of surviving the night," she said. He began to sob through his chattering teeth. Everything she had said sounded completely insane, but the sickness in his body gave it all a horrible ring of truth. "I don't want to die," he whispered. "We cannot help you. We have developed no 'cure' for what we have given you," she said. This was only partly true. A strong dose of antibiotic applied now might save him, but they were hours from any medical assistance. Colin continued to sob. "Colin," she said, a little more softly, "we can make it easier." "Mercy killing?" he spat, "thank you, no, I'll die like a man if I have to die." He began to cough violently. There was blood in the sputum. This was a bad sign. Before this, his actual chances were one in fifty. This meant he was not going to last another two hours. But that was time enough for one last bit of mercy. They were inhuman, but They were not unfeeling, nor un-ethical. Not entirely, anyway. "Colin, the last phase starts with pain in the joints, like arthritis. The pain will be agonizing." This was no lie. They had seen two others die like this. It was not a good way to die. "So what do you suggest?" he said. "I can give you something to control the symptoms. And I can also do something to take your mind off your perdiciment." They had made her body into a wonderful chemical factory. Her breasts and vagina, once designed for the production of milk and lubricant, were now capable of producing a wide variety of useful substances. Most of these substances were useful in controlling the dwindling Human population. Colin suddenly moaned. Right on cue, They thought. "O.K.," he gasped, "please, I'll take anything, just stop the pain!" Margaret quickly unbuttoned her shirt. Her breasts had become full. A drop of clear liquid had begun to form on each nipple. "This is a little unusual, I know," she smiled, "but you need to suck these." Colin opened his mouth and sucked her tit. He felt a warm, sour fluid fill his mouth. He sucked and swallowed a few more mouthfulls of the syrupy stuff. The pain began to subside. "Now the other one," instructed Margaret. Colin sucked her other tit, but it was not the same fluid. "My God," he thought, "she really is telling the truth." This time the fluid was watery, and almost tasteless. It left a strange aftertaste going down. He felt funny. Light headed. A narcotic? Margaret put her hand behind his head and feed him her tit. "Suck my nipples," she whispered, "take ambrosia from my body." The fluid stopped running, but Colin continued to suck the nipple. Margaret would whisper little encouraging words into his ear, telling him to lick as well as suck. She gently pulled his head back and kissed him; a slow, penetrating dance of lips and tongues. She pulled away again, and offered the other nipple to him. There was a brown fluid on this nipple now. Colin began to suck. A fire began to flow through him. He suddenly wanter her more than he had ever wanted anything. He pulled his head away in shock. He had never felt anything this good before. She forced the nipple back into his mouth and he sucked like his life depended on it. She was over dosing him. If he was going to live, he would be permanently addicted to the fluids her body was producing. He was a walking corpse now. Let his last hour be filled with bliss. It was the least They could do. And with the concentrations they were giving him, he was going to be an outstanding fuck for as long as he lasted. He felt like a superman, he had not felt this good since he was twenty. He lifted her easily into the air and back down on the couch. He wanted to taste her pussy. He slid his tongue into the folds of her sex. It was incredible: he could swear he could feel what she was feeling. He was: some of the narcotic he had been given made him empathic. He would experience her pleasure as a diminished version of his own. That is what made Them such good lovers. He ran his tongue in broad sweeps up and down the folds of her vagina, he felt a spasm of pleasure in her/his belly. He tried to stick his tongue into her, and was rewarded with another flash of her need. His tongue caressed her clit, and was treated to a taste of her ecstasy. He raced over and over her pussy with his tongue, enjoying his power to grant her pleasure, and feeling that pleasure at the same time. He slid a finger, and pressed an index finger against her pubic bone. The intensity almost made him stop. Almost. She was not idle in this time. She used her power on him the way he was using it on her. She cooed and urged him on. She talked dirty to him. She told him his fantasies, in lurid detail. She paused only when she had to climax. She pulled him on top of her. He slid easily into her sopping snatch, and pushed himself into her as far as he would go. She smiled at him and held him inside of her. "My turn to do the work," she whispered, "just stay where you are and don't move." The weight of him on top of her was delicious. She touched certain pressure points, and was able to place an hypnotic suggestion that he was not to come until a certain signal. She rolled on top of him. She began to masturbate him with the muscles in her vagina. As only one of Them could do it. It was beyond a hand job; her pussy massaged his cock better than any hand could. It was better than a blow job; it was warm and slick and intense. Every part of his cock seemed to be receiving attention. In a few minutes, he was screaming. He begged her to let him come. All she did was lean forward and feed him more ambrosia from her breasts. She felt every spasm of excruciating pleasure he felt as it began to edge into excruciating pain. Time for the signal. She raised herself on him, and slapped herself down hard. He began to cry: he knew he could come now. They threw themselves at each other; her laughing, him crying. He climaxed in a white hot daze of her pleasure and his. She climbed off of him. He was very weak. She covered him and curled up next to him. He thanked her in a whisper. She only smiled and pulled him tighter. He closed his eyes, and his breathing became shallower. His body shivered slightly. He opened his eyes and tried to say goodbye. He was too weak. She heard him anyway, and said goodbye back. Then he closed his eyes for the last time, and died in her arms. They had taken her miles and years and experiences away from the incident. DAY FOUR TWENTY EIGHT 11:14 PM Peter Davidson cowered in the alleyway. It seemed fitting that the last human being should also be the last homeless person. Thank God it was late spring, or he probably would have been dead by now. The constant rain didn't make things easier, though. He was soaked. The streets were deserted. Who knew what They did for entertainment, or if They even found it necessary to entertain Themselves. He fished a large plastic bottle out of his coat pocket, took out two tablets, and swallowed them dry. He chuckled. Thank God for the antibiotics, or he would be much worse than dead by now. He sat down on the hard concrete, propped his back against a building, and began to cry again. His stomach growled. Hunger struggled with despair within him. His wife, his family, his co-workers, his life, all gone. Only the mystery They represented remained. They would not allow him to hurt Them. They would not allow him to leave the city. They would not allow him to destroy property. He had tried all of that. For the most part, They ignored him. He was insignificant. And that was the most terrifying thing of all. He remembered back three days ago to the time he first realized something was wrong. He had been taking antibiotics for a while, trying to shake a chest cold. Being a medical researcher did have its advantages. Everyone around him had been complaining of headaches for a day or two, but Paul just figured it was just the flu going around. Then everyone seemed to change. People who's lifestyle had been a perpetual funk became unusually cheerful. Even his wife, who was a dour person, began to greet him at home like a returning prince. That had made him suspicious as hell. Three days ago the temperature had gone up and people were walking around in shorts. He saw two men walk toward each other in the park, strip off their clothes, and have sex with each other. Twenty more couples joined them in the warm, late morning sunshine. Nobody acted like there was anything wrong. In fact, he saw two policemen join the throng. Peter pointed this out to one of his co-workers. Her response was, "Looks like fun. Want to go down there and join them?" Peter was appalled: he didn't have a perfect marriage (who did) but he was never unfaithful. She just laughed. "Your wife is fucking someone else right now," she said. "In fact, she's fucked three men and two women since yesterday. Ask her tonight if you don't believe me." Then she walked down to the park, took off her clothes, grabbed the first passer-by, and fucked her brains out. Peter grabbed his coat and headed for home. His wife was fucking someone else when he got through the front door. Thank God they had no children. She was on top of someone he had never seen before in the middle of the living room floor. They both looked at him and smiled. "I'll be with you in a second, Honey!" was all she said. She continued to fuck the man on the floor. "My God," he had said, "what is this all about?" She had given him a sweet, sweet smile and said, "I've let everything go, Peter. Now all that is left is joy. You'll understand soon, I promise. I love you. We all love you." Her monologue was cut short by an orgasm. He had never seen her come like that with him. She howled like an animal and threw herself on her partner. He stumbled out of his house before they were finished. He returned to the laboratory and locked himself in his office. No one disturbed him. It was when he was finally forced to go to the bathroom that he noticed that the laboratory was being turned into a production facility. "What's this?" he had asked. "The new focus of this facility," was the only response he got. He got a sample of what They were growing as quietly as he could, and looked at it under a microscope. Bacteria. The weirdest looking bacteria he had ever seen in his life. Just for grins, he dropped in [END] Brian C. Ladd, Curator, Mindnumbing Archive MNA is *not* affiliated with the University of North Carolina; it is a personal project which the University will neither acknowledge nor condone. ================================================================================ From: ladd@cs.unc.edu (Brian C. Ladd) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: MNA: Satisfaction Guaranteed (mf mc sf) 02/02 Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Date: 20 Oct 1995 08:12:16 -0400 Message-ID: <4683n0$s6i@baldhead.cs.unc.edu> Reply-To: ladd@cs.unc.edu ============================================================================= Mindnumbing Archive Repost ============================================================================= WARNING The following is eroitc in nature. If you are under the legal age of consent in your local jurisdiction, stop reading now. If you are easily offended, please stop reading now. GNINRAW The curator of the MNA most likely did NOT write the story which follows. Authors, when known, are acknowledged in the body of the file. Assemble the various parts of related messages, removing everything outside the [BEGIN] [END] markers and you'll have the "complete" story. See the MNA Index posted to alt.sex.stories.d for chapter counts and synopses. If you have similar materials, please repost them, too. Comments, encouragement, and additional material for the archive gratefully received; flames, repost requests, and e-mail requests rapidly dispatched to the void. If you're an author in the MNA and you do not want your story reposted: Contact me at ladd@cs.unc.edu and I will remove your story from the reposting list. If you're an author of an Unknown story and you want to take credit for it, contact me as well, please. [BEGIN] a little of the antibiotic he was taking. The strange bacteria died immediately. "Find anything interesting?" asked a voice from behind as he was taking his first good look at the end of the world. It was the woman who had propositioned him earlier that morning. A chill went up his spine. "My God," he had said, "what the fuck are these things?" "Ever hear of nanotechnology?" she said, a sunny smile on her face. "That's science fiction," he said. "Science fact," she said, "gene therapy for a world of ills. The cure is already taking effect. I'm cured. You're wife is cured. Most of the city is cured. In fact, most major cities are cured. As soon as you stop taking those antibiotics, you'll be cured." Peter felt sick. "Don't fight it, you'll only make yourself miserable," she said. Then she gave him a sultry look, "If you give me the antibiotics now, I'll make sure you're comfortable until the cure takes hold." She began to unbutton her blouse. "You see, now that we're free, we're able to listen to what our bodies are telling us. My body is telling me it wants to fuck you. Tell me, Peter, what's your body telling you?" Peter's head told him he didn't want to be cured. He ran. As soon as he got his wits back he tried to smash the equipment They were assembling. He was gently, but firmly, tossed out of the facility. He was not allowed back in. He tried to make a phone call. All of the public phones were dead. He tried to hail a cab. None would pick him up. He walked to the airport. No one would sell him a ticket, and he could not even get near the terminals. He could still see private cars. He tried to force his way into one when it stopped at a light. The door was locked. The driver ignored him. They all had settled down to just ignoring him until his antibiotics ran out. Sooner or later, They would have him. That had been three days ago. Three days of eating out of garbage bins (and there seemed to be less garbage these days, too), drinking from public fountains, taking regular doses of his rapidly dwindling supply of antibiotics, and trying to stay dry in the persistent spring monsoon. He sat in his alleyway, miserable. He had enough antibiotic left for another day. He had been unable to find more. He heard a cough close by. It was his wife. Or what used to be his wife. One of Them. She gave him a concerned look. "It's going down to freezing tonight, so you need to take shelter somewhere," she said. "Aren't we the milk of human kindness," he spat. "What do you care?" "We're not unfeeling, you know," she said softly. "You were the one who decided to live like this. We don't want you to die." "How kind of you," he laughed bitterly, "why don't you just hit me over the head and be done with it?" "Why should we spoil your fun?" she said in a reasonable tone. Actually, his experience was making him a much more interesting person, and a much more valuable asset once he joined. They were content to let this little scenario be played out. "Look," she continued, sounding more like his old wife than she had in days, "it's going to freeze tonight. Either you follow me, or we *are* going to do the equivalent of hit you over the head. You won't have to stay with one of us, though." "What do you mean?" he said, afraid that he knew exactly what they meant. Afraid that they were lying. "We thought you might like to stay with another human being," was her reply. "Who knows, you might even get lucky tonight." DAY FOUR TWENTY EIGHT 9:30 PM Sue was scared. The man she had brought home was not the man she had thought. Not even close. The man in her apartment looked like Richard. It sounded like Richard. The man in her apartment even had some of Richard's superficial mannerisms. But the man in her apartment was definitely not Richard. The man had no small talk in him. She and the real Richard could talk about nothing for hours. She had more in common with her parakeet than she did with this person. And this person was very much interested in making love to her. Not a chance, not of Sue could help it. "Richard," she said, continuing the charade, "I think you should leave. Now." She edged toward the knife drawer. She nerved herself into using the big butcher knife on him if she had to. "Why, Sue?" he asked in a reasonable tone of voice. He made no move toward the door. "I think you know why," she said evenly, trying to bring the butcher knife out of the drawer in one fluid motion. She banged it a few times, but managed to hang onto it. "I don't know who the fuck you are, or," hell, Sue thought, go for it, "*what* the fuck you are, but you're not Richard. You fooled me at the office, but you can't fool me here. I want you out of here, or I'm going to use this." They were a little saddened to realize They had become so terrible at imitating human beings in so short a time. No, They revised that assessment. Terrible at imitating *particular* human beings. No matter. All that was quickly becoming unnecessary. And weren't the humans always telling themselves it was better to be who you *really* were, anyway? Time to be Ourselves, They all thought. Richard began to unbutton his shirt. "There is nothing to be afraid of," he said, "I'm going to explain some things to you. It's time." "Bullshit!" Sue hissed. "Stop that! Get your fucking shirt back on and get out of here." Richard had stripped off his shirt and had begun to work on his pants. He ignored her commands to get dressed again. He was soon totally naked. He stood before her and spread his hands. "Do you like this body, Sue? You used to. I would like you to enjoy this body again. Do you want to?" "Stay the fuck away from me!" Sue sputtered. Richard had not moved, aside from removing all his clothes, but Sue had backed up as far as she could go into the kitchen. "Are you afraid I'll rape you?" Richard said with a smile. "Do you want to be raped?" They took a quick reality check. No, her desire to be raped was actually quite small. No matter. More than one way to skin a cat, as the humans liked to say. "GET OUT!" she screamed. She had begun to cry a little. She was sorry she had not gotten that revolver now. She would have blown this fucking lunatic's head off. "Sue," Richard said evenly, "I'm not going to hurt you, but there's something you must understand about us. Something you have to be shown. Words are not going to do it." "Please, just go," Sue said. Then there was a knock on the door. "Oh God!" Sue called, "whoever you are! Be careful! He's crazy in here!" Richard went over to the door and opened it up. It was Sue's boss, Ellen Bradshaw. Ms. Bradshaw was stark naked. She smiled at Sue as she walked into the room. It was not a wholesome smile. "Oh, fuck!" was all Sue could say. "Well, that's the general idea," said Ms. Bradshaw. She smiled, held out her hands, and said "Come here, baby, let me warm you up." Her eyes shone as she stretched toward Sue. Fucklust was in them. Fucklust for Sue. She felt it roll into her, like ocean waves. Terror griped her as she felt part of herself respond; she wanted to fuck a woman! Impossible! All Sue could do was shake her head and clutch the knife more tightly. "Please, go away," she said. "Your choice, my sweet. We still have something to show you," said Ms. Bradshaw. She suddenly turned on Richard. She was on his chest, licking his nipples. Richard responded immediately with a guttural moan. Ms. Bradshaw licked her way up his chest. When she reached his face, they kissed. It was not a tender kiss, it was fierce and hot and needy. Richard grabbed her ass and ground her into him. She responded with an animal yowl. She grabbed his head in her hands and they continued kissing. Richard suddenly broke the kiss and forced Ms. Bradshaw onto the dining room table. He began to lick her pussy. Ms. Bradshaw began to writhe on the table. They snarled and panted to each other in their heat. The room began to fill with their musk. Sue began to get dizzy. The knife wavered in her hand. What was happening to her? Fear fought with a rising passion inside and twisted more painfully than any knife. The same chemical that had obliterated thought in many human men and women (Bob Tranner being one of them), and was now going a long way to softening Sue. Moistening was a better word, actually. Ms. Bradshaw wheeled and laid Richard on his back. She straddled him and began to ride him. Richard howled his pleasure and bucked his hips to meet hers. He cupped her tits in his hands. She tossed her head back and began to laugh. Sue's throat was dry, but her pussy was juicy. She could never remember being this turned on, and this repulsed. She had seen what They had wanted her to see: something was fucking on her table, but it was not human. It was more than human, and less. It was animal, elemental, fundamental. They were without guilt, without restraint, without thought. It was raw need meeting raw need. They were not done with her yet. Ms. Bradshaw turned her face towards Sue. She smiled at Sue. Sue began to feel what she was feeling. Sue could feel Richard's cock sliding in and out of her/Bradshaw's vagina, could feel her wanting her as she fucked this man want her suck her tits pussy tongue dance pinch squeeze *down* ohgood cockflesh backstroke squeeze *downstroke* want her need her hold her tits ass thigh backstroke lick kiss *downstroke* good good good manflesh womanflesh all flesh all one Sue screamed as she realized she had lost herself momentarily, and had not cared. A part of herself *wanted* to be lost again. She began to shake. She could not let Them do this to her. It began again. From both Richard and Ms. Bradshaw the this time. She was feeling Richard's cock *flowing* in and out of Ms. Bradshaw's cunt, she could feel Ms. Bradshaw's pussy squeeze Richard's cock. She could feel the desire both of them felt when they looked at her. She was horrified to learn that she *wanted* them to use her body they way they were using each other. They smiled. Their pleasure pulled her. Sue moved out of the kitchen, dropping her knife. She hit a corner, and hung onto it, using it like an anchor. Come to us, their mutual pleasure crooned to her. Come to us. Come. Come. Her grip weakened. The front door opened again. Right on cue. Another man and a woman stood in the doorway. He was clothed. She was naked to the waist. She was calm and serene. He was almost in a panic, his eyes were wild. They had "hit him over the head." "We thought it might be a bit much your first night," said Richard, "so we decided to bring you a playmate. Sue, meet Peter. Peter, meet Sue. You're the last two adult human beings in the city." Peter was maneuvered around to Sue. Her need was a horrible hunger in her now. She realized he had been manipulated the same way. Or had he? Was he one of Them? Only one way to be sure. There was only one thing They could not do. "What," said Sue, with some effort, "lousy weather we've been having lately, eh?" "Yeah," said Peter, almost laughing, "good for ducks. I like Summer better, anyway. What's your favorite season?" It was Spring, but she did not bother to answer. They both knew they had passed the small talk test. They sobbed their relief as they fell into each other's arms. It was good to be held by another human being. The fuckmusk worked its arcane magic on them. Sue had Peter's shirt unbuttoned before he realized what was happening. She attached her mouth to his nipple like a lamprey, and her tongue worked a magic of it's own on him. He moaned a soft, needful sound. A human sound. Give me your humanity, thought Sue, I need it tonight. Gentle hands stripped them of their clothes. Peter was still wet, and began to shiver as much from the cold as his need. Sue left him briefly and got a blanket. They huddled together on the couch, oblivious to their guests. Peter kissed her when they had gotten comfortable, and cupped one of her small breasts in his hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze. Sue sighed and covered his mouth with hers again. Their tongues danced in each other's mouths. The Others kept silent vigil. This physical tenderness was one of the things They had lost. It was a minor thing, in comparison to what they had gained, but it was still a thing to be enjoyed. They slid stealthily in and out of their minds, in and out of their bodies, enjoying the feeling of physical tenderness. But it did not take long for their bodies to become aroused again. When Peter's eyes met Ellen's eyes met Peter's wife's eyes, it was the physical need of those bodies that looked out. They formed a tangle on the floor, and began their own dance. The rhythm of this dance reached out to the gentle humans on the couch and swept them along. She bit him. He raked her with his nails. She howled as she impaled herself on him. He returned her howl with one of his own as he felt himself slide into her. The needs of their bodies struggled with the needs of their minds in a way that was impossible for the Others to comprehend. It was exciting. It was painful. She didn't want it this way. Neither did he. They had no choice. The music that the Others made with their bodies and minds bid them dance. They were powerless to refuse. Sue began to cry with her first orgasm, both from the release, and the desire to be released. Peter just thrashed when he felt his own orgasm take him. They fucked each other for a long time, their individual desires beaten down by the insistent call of the Other's pleasure and the needs of their own bodies. Exhaustion finally beat them into the ground, and they slept in a tangle on the floor. They did not touch Peter's antibiotics. DAY FOUR TWENTY EIGHT 9:16 PM Mrs. Bottom pulled into the church parking lot in a hurry. Late again! She shook her head. Her husband had always said she would be late for her own funeral. Just as long as she wasn't late getting into Heaven! She chuckled at the thought. Mrs. Sarah Ann Bottom slapped at her seat belt and got out of the car as quickly as her thirty seven year old body could. Which was pretty fast, actually: she and her husband kept themselves in good shape, physically. Spiritually, well, that was another matter. She shook her head as she hurried up the walkway. At least she had bothered to show up to the prayer meetings. She had to threaten her husband to go! She sighed. He was a good man, and a wonderful husband, but he tended to be a bit too predictable and, lets face it, lazy. She walked into the room the prayer meeting was being held in, and started to apologize. Then she saw something odd. Her best friend, Ann Miller, was up on the podium with another person she had never seen before. "I thought we were going to talk about the book of Luke tonight," she thought. Ann gave her a big smile, "Sarah! I'm so glad you could be here! Please, sit down, I have some important news! Do you want some punch first?" Ann indicated a large punch bowl filled with red fluid and ice. "Sorry I'm late," Sarah said, "no, let's get started." Ann nodded, and began. "I would like to introduce you to Dr. Lee Draymond. Dr. Draymond has some exciting news for all of us! Dr. Draymond." Lee Draymond was in his middle fifties, and he looked every bit like a man of God. In fact, he was more a man of God than anyone in that room knew (except for Ann, of course, who was in on the fun). Actually, Lee Draymond had been an accountant, and a Jew, until four weeks ago. That was, until They had shown him the light. Haleluja. "Friends," began Dr. Draymond, "what would you say if I told you that the end of the world was at hand?" This was met with nervous laughter. "Friends," began Dr. Draymond, "what would you say if I told you that the end of the world had already happened?" "We're looking remarkably fit, in that case," said Ned Taylor, the youngest member of the prayer group and one of the few men, to boot. Sarah was rather fond of him. In a motherly way, of course. She liked seeing him at these meetings. Another thought tried to present itself, but she pushed it aside. "And those who experience the Rapture will go on looking remarkably fit," continued Dr. Draymond agreeably, "who here wants their names written in the Book of Life?" Everyone's hand went up, a few more timidly than the others. Everyone was trying to catch everyone else's eye; what was going on here? This was a prayer meeting, not a cult meeting, for Heaven's sake! Sarah gave Ann a questioning look. Ann just gave her a big smile and a look that said that everything was going to be all right. "I see there are some doubters here tonight," said Dr. Draymond. He paused. "I suppose you would also doubt that I have experienced the Rapture." This was getting absurd, thought Sarah. Let's get this buffoon off the stage and start the meeting. This kind of loose talk was, well, unwholesome. It made her uncomfortable. "Will it take a miracle to convince you?" he asked quietly. There was no response. "A simple one, to start. The hearts of men are as an open book to the Lord your God, and I am one with Him now. I shall read your hearts, and see what is in them. I shall reveal the secrets that you keep hidden there, hidden perhaps even from yourselves, but not from the Lord your God." "I do not bring judgement. I do not condemn any of you for what I might find here tonight. Look to the Lord for your forgiveness, for he offers it to you with outstretched arms!" Dr. Draymond paused again. He looked at John Pots. John seemed to shrink under his gaze. Everyone held their breaths. "John," said Dr. Draymond softly. John Pots began to shake a little. "This will be hard for you to hear, John," Dr. Draymond continued, "but you must hear it. I do not condemn you." John Pots was white. "Four years ago," began Dr. Draymond, and he was interrupted by a hiss from John Pots. "You really do know?" John asked, half in wonder, half in fear. Of course They knew. They had acquired the town corriner two days ago, and he had suspected. But the pain of John Pots was easy to read. "Four years ago your wife was diagnosed as having altzheimer's disease. She turned into a vegetable before your eyes. It was worse than taking care of a child, because this was the person you used to rely on in times of trouble. She had left, and you were all alone." John Pots was sobbing now. The room was still save for John and Dr. Draymond. "So to put an end to your pain, you pushed her down the stairs. The fall killed her. You've been coming to these prayer meetings ever since to find release. Have you found release, John?" "No!" he howled. John was nearly hysterical now. He looked around the room, for sympathy, for rebuke, for he didn't know what. He was ready to run. Dr. Draymond closed the space between them and yanked him to his feet. "Are you ready to find release, John?" Dr. Draymond boomed. "Are you ready to find forgiveness? Are you ready to be taken into the bosom of God?" "Yes," said John, "please, take the pain away." "Release," said Dr. Draymond, "is through that door." Ann came forward and gently took John's arm. She guided him into the next room, made sure he had more punch, and showed him a little video. Dr. Draymond continued his good work with the remaining humans. "Dark and strange are the secrets kept in the hearts of men," said Dr. Draymond. "But most are not so grave. In fact, most are minor in comparison. But no less grievous, because they offend the Lord your God." That last one had almost been too much. Time to lighten things up a bit. Who lusted after who, now? They actually disliked manipulating people with sexual guilt, but let's face it: Christians just loved to be beat up about sex. Well, let them have their fun for as long as that lasted. They would soon stand as One Flesh, with all the rights and privlidges that conferred. Dr. Draymond looked casually over to Ned Taylor. "Been getting enough sleep lately, Ned? Or have your dreams been keeping you awake nights?" Ned Taylor's face flushed a deep red. "Please don't," he started, "they're just dreams." Sarah felt an odd flush. Poor Ned was barely home from graduating college, and a nice boy. Why, if she wasn't married and a little younger (a lot younger, she revised) she might make a play for him herself. She shook her head. What was she thinking? "Just dreams," sighed Dr. Draymond. "Dreams are conversations that we have with ourselves, and God hears everything Ned. Do you think your dreams about Sarah Bottom are entirely proper?" "Please," said Ned, helplessly, "I can't control my dreams." "Can you control your lust, Ned?" said Dr. Draymond. "For you lust after another man's wife. Every night. Shall I tell them about the four poster bed? That seems to be your favorite." Ned was staring at the floor, his eyes closed tight. He could not believe this was happening. Sara felt her face getting hot. She was painfully aware of her breasts against her blouse. She wanted to hear it all. Dr. Draymond looked at Sarah. She felt her heart skip a beat. "He ties you into the bed," said Dr. Draymond to Sarah, "and then he licks you, and then he fucks you. In the dream, you beg him not to stop." Sarah was having trouble breathing. Her palms were sweaty, and her pussy was getting moist. "Shall I tell Ned what you dream, Sarah?" said Dr. Draymond. Ned's head shot up like it was on a spring. Now it was Sarah's turn to stare at the floor. She was trying hard not to remember that dream, trying very hard. She was married, and a good Christian woman after all, and you weren't supposed to want to fuck someone half your... "In her dream, Ned, Sara is your mother. And you've been bad, very bad. She takes you over her knee, and she spanks you, very hard. You cry, Ned, like a little child, but Sarah knows you need a strong hand." Sara was starting to get dizzy now. She was lubricating freely and she was afraid that they would all see the wet spot when she stood up. She wanted to cum. She wanted to die. She was in heaven. She was in hell. "You promise that you'll be a good boy, Ned, a very good boy. Sarah tells you to take your clothes off, and she takes her clothes off, too. She lays you down in bed, and climbs on top of you. She puts your penis in her vagina. Then she tells you not to come, or she'll have to punish you some more. Most dreams you do as you are told, and she rides you until she orgasms." "But sometimes you do come, and she has to punish you, and start all over again. She likes those dreams the best. She makes you call her 'mommy' in those dreams, and makes you suckle her like a baby. The best dream that she had was when she had to punish you five times." That was it exactly, thought Sarah in a guilty, euphoric haze. Please call me mommy, Ned, and suckle on my tits, and fuck me. The shame was almost as delicious as the desire that caused it. She looked at Ned. She hoped her face showed the proper amount of remorse, instead of the raw desire she felt. He was looking at her strangely, too. He looked quickly at the floor. They smiled. Ned liked Sarah's dream better than his own. So did They. Right on cue, Ann returned John to the room. "Do you want to be forgiven?" Dr. Draymond asked them both. "Yes," they both said meekly, "we want to be saved." "Bullshit," a part of Ned thought, "I want to suck her tits and call her 'mommy', like in her dream." "I want to make him behave and not cum and fuck me," though Sarah, a little surprised at this, "although being tied down and eaten might be nice, too." Ann ushered them through the door. She gave them some punch, and made sure they drank it. Then she started the video. The Rapture had started in Niece, the video explained (although they both found it hard to concentrate because of the headache), in a monistary. It had spread through Europe, going from one monistary to the next, until most of the Roman Catholic Church had experienced it. It was then spread to the heads of state in Europe. They spread it in turn to the rest of the globe. The Rapture was now being brought to the common people, so that all may stand as One Flesh before God. Ned lasted thirty seconds, barely past the opening credits, before something in his head went flick! But he had drunk some punch before Sarah had arrived. He turned his head to watch Sarah. It took Sarah almost five minutes before something in her head went flick! Then she turned to look at Ned. The smiled. Sarah began to unbutton her blouse. "I love you, Sarah," said Ned. This was obvious, but there was still a good chunk of Ned's old personality still in place. The same was true of Sarah. Time would change that, however. "Call me 'mommy'," said Sarah with a laugh, "but not now. I have something else for you to do with your mouth." She had gotten her blouse unbuttoned, and had just unhooked her bra. "Come here, baby." It was going to be a great night. END PART TWO [END] Brian C. Ladd, Curator, Mindnumbing Archive MNA is *not* affiliated with the University of North Carolina; it is a personal project which the University will neither acknowledge nor condone.