The following story contains strong sexual content. It is intended solely for mature persons who are legally old enough to receive adult materials. Those who are not legally able to receive adult materials or who are offended by them should read no farther.
Further distribution of this story by readers is limited to individuals who are legally able to receive adult materials. Posting of this story at Internet websites other than the Erotic Mind Control Story Archive without the author's prior approval is expressly prohibited.
The persons and situations depicted in this story are entirely fictitious. Any similarities to actual persons or situations are completely unintentional and purely coincidental.
Zandira squinted as she looked towards the east. The sun had just broken through a low bank of clouds, and now the whole area was bathed in brilliant morning light. The Vendaran didn’t welcome this development at all; her shiny garments were that much easier to spot in the bright sunshine. For once, Zandira wished she had some of the tasteless but less conspicuous clothing the natives liked to drape themselves in.
Sunshine or no, Zandira fully appreciated that with each passing hour, her situation was becoming more desperate. For nearly four days she had managed to elude the Omegan search teams sent to track her down. However, since their search was now becoming more focused rather than less, she knew that they must have somehow determined her approximate location.
As she moved stealthily towards a row of trees, she again pondered Brad’s fate. Had he already been captured? If so, she wondered, was any of the information they would undoubtedly extract from his mind now being used to aid their search for her?
Bending low behind a tree, Zandira decided it was a plausible concern. Certain that he would be recaptured by the Omegans, she had intentionally not discussed her plan of evasion with him before they separated. But now she considered the possibility that his boast of ‘knowing this area like the back of my hand,’ which she had dismissed as the overconfident claim of an immature Earthian, was not a exaggeration, and that the Omegans were using his knowledge to track her.
Supporting that supposition, she recognized that her pursuers were methodically herding her away from the meadow and towards the higher hills, where there was less room to maneuver. She knew that if this continued, eventually she would be boxed in and her enemies would simply have to tighten the noose until she was theirs.
She again silently cursed her own mistakes, the biggest of which was freeing Brad out of compassion for his plight. She regretted not having more fully considered the possible repercussions of her action before taking it… and her rash decision had, as the Earthian saying went, ‘blown up in her face.’ Her one true advantage over the Omegans was the secret of her presence here, and she had squandered it.
Meanwhile, the relentless pursuit continued. A trio of Omegan soldiers moved towards the trees she hid behind, scanning the immediate vicinity for her. Each enemy had her weapon drawn as they intently probed the surroundings with scanners. Zandira knew it would be difficult but not impossible to elude the three Omegans, but now her own scanning device identified at least two dozen others converging on her location. The noose was indeed closing.
But even if she did manage to escape this latest attempt at her capture, she knew that it would be a temporary reprieve at best. With luck, she might be able to evade her pursuers as long as the jammer worked; but once it failed, she would be as helpless as she suspected Brad already was. If he was even still alive, that is…
Zandira paused for a moment, allowing her mind to take her on the unpleasant journey of what almost certainly awaited her. It was a safe assumption that the purpose of her pursuer’s chase was not to kill her. That would leave them with too many unanswered questions regarding her presence here. And Zandira knew that there was too much at stake from the Omegan’s perspective to leave any important questions unanswered.
No, they would not kill her. They would instead capture her—which might not be a pleasant experience in itself—and probe her mind just like they had probably already probed Brad’s. But other than knowledge they might use to aid in Zandira’s capture, the boy’s mind contained little else of value to the Omegans. Conversely, her mind contained a treasure trove of information that the Omegan commander certainly craved.
Even Vendarans, whose mental disciplines were much more rigid than humans, were vulnerable to Omegan mind probe techniques. Given enough time, they would surely be able to extract all of the information they sought, and not just that pertaining to her being on Earth. She would eventually be compelled to betray critical secrets on the Alliance and its operations. In that eventuality, not only would Earth fall, but quite possibly other worlds too… perhaps even Alliance worlds.
If that wasn’t bad enough to contemplate, Zandira also considered what might happen to her after the mental interrogation had concluded. If it was conducted carefully, her mind might not be destroyed, leaving it intact for the Omegans to use for their own nefarious purposes. Perhaps Zandira might be reprogrammed to become an Omegan sex slave. Or, still worse, she might be indoctrinated and ‘turned’… that is, her loyalties altered so that she could serve as a double agent, working for the Omegans against the Alliance.
None of these were acceptable outcomes; to prevent them, Zandira would gladly die by her own hand. But dying to avoid capture also meant that Earth would almost certainly be conquered by the Omegans. Perhaps her affection for the planet and its populous was a weakness, but it was undeniable.
No, she resolved, there had to be another option. She already knew there was, but it too was fraught with danger and uncertainty. It was something she had always sworn never to seriously consider, much less do. However, in her present predicament where the black and white fates she contemplated could not be allowed to happen, she knew she had no choice but to accept a distinctively gray solution.
As a twig snapped nearby, she made her choice. She would not surrender, and she would not die. However, she would allow herself to be captured.
Well, not precisely…
On that sunny morning, Zandira wasn’t the only one besieged by the Omegans, physically or otherwise. Ada Weston rubbed her throbbing temples as she tried to go through the morning’s mail at her desk. She had been up most of the night with the headache, and now she very much regretted not staying home. She began wonder if she needed to see a doctor, as the pain was now growing progressively worse despite the copious amount of headache medication she had taken.
“Ada honey, you don’t look good at all,” Ruella Andrews pronounced as she strutted her rotund frame into the office to deliver yet more mail. “Girl, you’re as white as a ghost.” Ada glanced up at her; somehow, it was suddenly hard to focus on the dark-skinned woman standing before her with a look of deep concern on her face.
“What a headache I have, Ru,” Ada said weakly. “I’ve had headaches before, but never anything like this. It’s like there’s something inside my head, trying to pound its way out. It wasn’t too bad when I came to work, but now it’s getting worse… a lot worse.” She moaned quietly as she resumed rubbing her throbbing temples.
The woman moved closer to Ada, shaking her head in disapproval. “Then why aren’t you home in bed, woman? Or at a doctor’s office or something? My sister-in-law gets migraines. That’s what I bet you have, honey. And it ain’t gonna get better with you sittin’ in that chair.” Ruella moved to the phone on other side of the desk. “I’m gonna make you an appointment at the clinic.”
As she picked up the receiver, the door to the office swung open. “Good morning Ada,” a buoyant Cynthia Richardson enthused as she entered the office. “I trust you had pleasant dreams last night.”
The administrator froze in her tracks as Ada suddenly looked up at her frantically, then swung her eyes towards Ruella, who held the phone in her hand, paralyzed by the expression on Ada’s face. Suddenly a deep, pain-filled groan sprung forth from Ada’s lips. Then the wail abruptly ended, and Ada’s head dropped onto her desk, canted at a grotesque angle.
Ruella screamed, dropping the phone as her hands came up to cover her mouth. “Ada? Ada!” Cynthia cried out as she rushed towards the stricken woman. “Ada, answer me! Ada!” The secretary made no movement, her unblinking eyes dully fixed straight ahead. Cynthia grabbed the woman’s wrist, seeking a pulse. She didn’t find one.
The normal human reaction to such an emergency would be to seek out medical help as soon as possible. But Cynthia Richardson was no longer a normal human. She was an Omegan slave now, her mind expertly bent to serve another purpose beyond the welfare of other humans.
Knowing that it was too great a coincidence that Ada had collapsed after being exposed to the experimental pheromone egg, Cynthia’s preferred choice of action would have been to notify the commander and ask for instructions. Unfortunately, not only was Ruella Andrews standing over Ada’s body, other people were now bursting into the office, attracted by the piercing scream.
Fifteen minutes later, Cynthia watched silently as the gurney carrying Ada’s body was wheeled out of her office. She had patiently answered all of the questions put to her: No, she hadn’t noticed anything unusual about Ada recently… Yes, she seemed fine the last time she was here, etc. She certainly wasn’t about to volunteer the truth—the last time she had seen Ada, the prim secretary was frantically eating her out under the influence of an alien aphrodisiac.
As soon as the death party left, Cynthia’s face—on which she had painted a picture of shocked sadness for the benefit of those who questioned her—took on an expression of deep concern. With Ada’s body now whisked away out of her control, she feared that someone might discover there was an unnatural, or rather, unearthly reason behind her death.
After somberly assuring the others assembled that she was all right, Cynthia retreated to her office and locked the door. As she watched the ambulance pull away through her window blinds, she withdrew a small device from her purse. It was time to inform the commander of the unpleasant turn of events she had witnessed.
Upon hearing the news and extrapolating its possible implications, the commander sighed deeply. The lyrical Omegan language, normally pleasant to the human ear, now echoed discordantly in the blonde’s ears as the elder Omegan lamented this latest problem.
The commander shared Cynthia’s concern that the native medical personnel, however primitive by Omegan standards, might discover something extraordinary had caused Ada’s death. She also wanted to know if the pheromone had caused the demise; if so, plans to utilize it more fully would be scotched, at least for the time being.
Accordingly, the commander ordered Cynthia to find the true cause of Ada’s death while preventing any exposure of the Omegan’s presence.
“You have a number of tools at your disposal. You have already proven yourself to be quite resourceful, so I’m sure you will not fail me in this task.” Cynthia bowed in acknowledgement; her devotion to her commander made it a given that she would undertake any action needed to fulfill the tasks given her.
About 40 minutes later, Cynthia arrived at the hospital where Ada’s body had been taken; she soon located it near the emergency room. It was encased within a thick black canvas body bag, still on the same gurney it had been removed from the office on. As Cynthia fingered the tag labeled “A. WESTON” attached to the zipper of the bag, she heard the sound of several people crying behind her.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Weston,” Cynthia conveyed with contrived sadness as she beheld the pitiful sight of Rocco Weston and his rather plain looking family. “Ada was such a wonderful person and marvelous secretary… I have no idea how I’ll get along without her.”
The act worked. After saying all of the right things, Cynthia was able to find out the information the doctor had passed to the Westons. Indications were Ada had suffered a cerebral hemorrhage or aneurism; however, the exact cause couldn’t be ascertained without an autopsy, which would be conducted at the medical examiners office at 9 a.m. the following morning.
After again conveying her manufactured condolences to Ada’s family, Cynthia expeditiously departed from the hospital. As she crossed the parking lot, she began to formulate a plan to accomplish the mission her beloved overseer had given her. Cynthia had not yet failed the Omegan’s and she resolved that she never would.
The sign was posted just inside the main library entrance, written in a rather putrid shade of magenta. Perhaps the color selection was not just about the taste of someone without aesthetic sensibilities; it did manage to catch Shannon Emerson’s gaze. The other four co-eds with her stopped alongside as she paused to read it.
ALL STUDY ROOMS NOW RESERVED. TIME LIMIT 2 HRS FOR ALL ROOMS. SIGN UP AT THE FRONT COUNTER.
“Now isn’t that just the stupidest thing you’ve ever seen? You have to sign up for a study room now?” she harrumphed, her green eyes suddenly flashing passionately. The other girls exchanged confused glances, uncertain why such a trivial matter had set her off. Shrugging their shoulders, they then followed their indignant friend, who was making a beeline for the front counter of the library.
“You have to sign up to use a study room?” Shannon asked the student employee behind the counter. “Is that a problem?” the brunette replied, perhaps a bit put off by the leading tone that Shannon had posed her question with.
Shannon paused to blow a kinky red-blonde curl from her left eye. Her tone didn’t soften. “Well that’s great. We just trudged all the way across campus to study for a test. Now we can’t get a study room…” she paused, zooming in on the other girl’s nametag “… Tina?”
Tina Franklin seemed to be very busy checking in returned books, and her expression now betrayed her own annoyance at Shannon’s angry interruption of her duties. “Look… what’s you name?” the exasperated librarian began her reply. “Shannon Emerson,” her tormentor replied. “Look Shannon Emerson, I don’t make the rules, I just make sure that people like you follow them. Now as it turns out, there’s a six-person study room open for the next two hours right now. Do you want it or are you going to keep standing there and making an ass of yourself instead?”
“C’mon Shan, just get the room, will ya?” the girl closest to Shannon told her. Shannon threw her a sideways glance, her annoyance intensified further. “Ya think so, Jord? Well maybe I’ll just do that, doll face.” Shannon knew her friend Jordanna hated to be addressed by the chauvinist labels men traditionally used on women valued for what was between their thighs instead of their ears.
The zinger did its intended damage. The dark-haired girl didn’t reply, choosing instead to scrunch up the skin around her dark brown eyes in a nasty glare. “Careful Jord, you’ll be wrinkled at 30 if you keep that up,” the strawberry blonde replied, her impetuous tone softening just a bit.
Tina was neither impressed nor amused. “Look, do you want the room? If not, I’ll have to ask you to take your little 90210 skit somewhere else.” Much to Jordanna’s satisfaction, it was now Shannon on the receiving end of the zinger. She was quite surprised when Shannon did not return the barb, instead simply replying with a curt “Yes, we’ll take it.”
“Sign here… under Room Two,” Tina directed, placing a date book in front of Shannon. She handed the troublemaker a pen, watching the girl sign while flashing a condescending smile at the librarian. “Thank you sooooo very much for all your help, Miss Franklin,” she threw in with mock gratitude.
The phony smile still pasted on her lips, Shannon watched as Tina Franklin took out a small object from the drawer next to her. It was an alcohol wipe, which Tina extracted from the packet before running it over the pen Shannon had just returned. “Gotta watch out for germs, huh? I mean, who knows where your hands have been recently?” Tina smiled wickedly as her target blushed, and then pointedly turned her back and resumed checking books.
“Very fucking funny…” Shannon muttered in response to the giggles that sprung forth from her friends in response to the jibe. She regarded the lot of them with a dismissive look. “Well, I’m going to go study. You can stay here and laugh your asses off for all I care,” Shannon called over her shoulder as she set off briskly for Study Room 2. Still gigging, her four companions soon ambled after her.
As they set their books on the table, Keri McCombs nudged Shannon, who was standing next to her and still fuming. “C’mon Shan. She’s just a shitty bitch with a shitty job and shittier attitude. Just let it go, huh? Look, I need to ace this test or I’m screwed. Daddy will be royally pissed if his brilliant princess flunks Women’s Studies. If he cuts me off, I’ll be the one behind the counter out there, or god forbid, at some burger place. So let’s just get on with studying, okay?”
Nodding, Shannon consented and they began to jointly review their notes. Then about 15 minutes into the session, Shannon suddenly stood up. “That asshole can’t say that to me!” she pronounced no one in particular.
As the others rolled their eyes in disgusted disbelief, Keri turned an incredulous face to Shannon. “You’re still thinking about that bitch? My gaaawwwwd you are such a baby,” she sighed. Shannon didn’t take the bait, instead she offered on her way to the door, “I just want to tell her I don’t appreciate her attitude. I won’t make a scene. I’ll be back in two minutes, I promise. Keep studying; I’ll be back before you know it.”
As the door closed behind her, Shannon set her course for the front counter and Tina Franklin. She had an important message to deliver and her quick pace testified to the fact she was eager to do so.
“Excuse me, Miss Franklin,” Shannon started as she reached the counter. Tina turned, her gaze meeting Shannon’s. “Yes, Miss Emerson. You have something further to say to me?” The blonde’s verdant eyes flashed. “I certainly do.”
There was a momentary pause, as both girls locked eyes in a stare down. Then, amazingly, Shannon Emerson’s lips curled upward in a sly smile.
“They’re all yours. What happens next?”
Tina lifted a finger to her lips, beckoning Shannon into silence. “Not here,” the librarian whispered as she typed something into the keyboard on the counter, her eyes squinting as they scanned the screen. As she found the information she was seeking, she too broke into a smile. “It’s about to begin. I’ll show you.” She got up, moving to the corner of the counter and swung up the trap door. She then gestured to Shannon to follow her with a nod of her head.
At the same time in Study Room 2, the animated conversation about Shannon’s childish behavior had suddenly abated. None of the four co-eds could find the words to express the stunned surprise they shared as a strange rotating apparatus quickly descended between them from an opening in the ceiling. They were so engrossed with the unrecognizable implement that none of them reacted to the loud clicking sound made as the door to the room suddenly locked itself.
The device ceased it’s decent about a meter above the surface of the table; immediately thereafter, four pulsing beams of light sprung forth from it’s surface, each aimed into the face of one of the stunned students.
Keri attempted to call for help, but neither her lips nor her voice would function. She then noticed something emerging from the bright light that filled her vision… a kaleidoscope of colored light, coming together and splitting apart, all as part of some undetectable pattern of light and motion. She felt the tension in her facial muscles begin to slacken as she became completely submerged into the fascinating colors.
Now at the mercy of the amazing swirling display, none of the four girls noticed something else emerging from the apparatus. Above each co-ed’s head, smaller devices moved on mechanical arms that extended out from the parent unit. Each of the four smaller units moved into position directly above one of the co-eds.
In unison, four sets of vacant eyes suddenly drifted upwards, as if they were being pulled skyward by an unseen force. At the same time, the bright lights bombarding them ceased. As the harsh light subsided, each girl became aware of more remarkable colors dancing on the base of the apparatus that hung directly over her head.
At the same moment, Shannon was following Tina into the office behind the main library counter. There were several other student librarians in there, who Shannon regarded suspiciously. “Don’t worry Shan, all of them are ‘with the program.’” Tina allowed herself a small smirk, amused at her own unintended witticism.
Indeed, the others went about their business as Tina’s hand gripped the silver knob of an inconspicuous door at the back of the office. Instead of turning the knob, Tina simply rested her hand on it. After a couple of seconds, her hand glowed dimly for a moment as an unusual light caressed it, seemingly coming from the knob itself. “The Omegans installed this sensor to keep out the people who shouldn’t know about this,” she explained quietly to Shannon.
Apparently the aliens counted Tina among those who should know, for the door suddenly unlocked of its own accord, allowing her to open it and enter the room with Shannon close in tow behind her. Immediately after they entered the darkened room, Tina closed the door behind them; the lock reengaged as soon as the door was closed.
It took a few seconds for Shannon’s eyes to adjust to the dark. Somehow, the surroundings seemed very familiar to her even though she had never been in this room before. Unable to see anything inside the room, she realized that a parallel wall had been constructed immediately inside the door, concealing the room’s contents from anyone gazing inside the opened doorway.
The inner and outer walls formed a corridor, and Tina and Shannon now followed it towards the main part of the room. At the end of the corridor was a small white light. As they approached it, the light suddenly grew in intensity. “Another scanner, just in case anyone who’s not supposed to be here gets through the door,” Tina explained. “What happens in that case?” Shannon asked, her curiosity piqued. “They’d be dealt with,” Tina replied, her ominous tone implying that being ‘dealt with’ would not be a pleasant experience.
As they rounded the end of the inner wall, Shannon understood why the room seemed familiar to her. It was very reminiscent of the indoctrination chamber onboard the Omegan ship. Indeed, this room had a number of indoctrination tubes and similar equipment to that on the ship; but as she scanned the room, Shannon noted there were some important differences.
For one, there were far more control panels; instead of all of them facing the tubes, some faced monitors that hung from other walls. A number of the panels were active and manned by Omegan technicians.
The girls’ excitement grew as they began to survey the images on the monitors. The scenes displayed were of students sitting motionless at tables… tables that looked very much to Shannon like the one she had just been sitting at in Study Room 2. As she looked more closely, she realized that the images were of students in other study rooms, and that in each room, a large suspended mechanism—unquestionably Omegan in origin—was in operation.
Tina filled in the remaining blanks for Shannon. “This is one of the controller’s ideas. It’s so brilliant and yet so simple. After all, just about every student comes in here during a semester, and a lot of them use the study rooms.” She paused as the girls shuffled from one monitor to another, looking upon the delicious scenes displayed for them with hungry eyes.
“The Omegans worked in secret for days building this control center and adapting the study rooms.” Tina gestured to the row of panels before them. “From these consoles they control the indoctrination units they hid in the study room ceilings. They basically turned each study room into a giant indoctrination tube.”
Shannon squealed with delight as she digested the implications of what Tina was telling her. From now on, dozens of students—perhaps hundreds, depending on library patronage—would be indoctrinated each and every day.
“There Shan, look… the monitor at the end.” Tina pointed; the monitor furthest from them displayed the familiar layout of Study Room 2. As they moved closer, nodding respectfully to the Omegan working the corresponding console, they were able to recognize the four indistinct persons as the girls Shannon had left in that room a few minutes before.
Shannon licked her lips in voracious sexual hunger as the monitor zoomed in on the deliciously blank look on Jordanna’s face. “What a shame there’s no pleasure chamber in here too,” she told Tina. The other girl smiled back at her. “What makes you think there isn’t?” she asked lightheartedly. “Remember, these are the Omegans you’re talking about.”
Ten minutes later, the two girls made their way back to Study Room 2. Along the route, they encountered freshly indoctrinated students emerging from other study rooms. Predictably, the new female servants were quite ebullient, while the males were far more reserved and impassive.
As she opened the door to the room, Tina was warmly greeted by the four newest Omegan servants. Their friendly attitudes only improved with the arrival of Shannon, who entered a few seconds later. Keri, for one, was very anxious to see her, and was soon locked in a very passionate embrace with her friend.
As Tina reminded the others that another group had reserved the room and would be arriving shortly, Keri withdrew her lips from Shannon’s long enough to whisper an invitation for her to share Keri’s bed that night. “Aren’t you worried about flunking anymore?” Shannon asked her playfully. “No… if Daddy ever tried to cut me off, well… I’m sure a little time in an indoctrination tube would help him realize just how important his princesses’ education really is.”
After making a number of phone calls to instructors in the college’s pre-med program, Cynthia Richardson found someone who was familiar with operations at the county morgue. “Yes Professor, I know it’s an unusual request, but my secretary’s passing has shaken me up pretty good. I’m very determined that the cause of her death be known as soon as possible, for both the family’s sake and my peace of mind.”
Of all of the people with whom Professor Bill French had discussed medical procedures, he didn’t recall ever answering questions about autopsy attendance policies. ‘She must be crazy to want to get into the morgue,’ he concluded. His reply was a bit more civil.
“I’m sorry, but I would be overstepping the bounds of protocol to try to get you into the medical examiners facility to watch the autopsy. But, if you’d like, I can ask the coroner to call you as soon as he finishes making out his report.” That was not the answer that Cynthia wanted to hear; it was one that would trigger events that the Omegan’s servant had planned for in case of this eventuality.
Ten minutes after he hung up the phone, four female students appeared at Professor French’s open door. The one standing in front exuded an air of confidence, while the other three—a petite fair skinned girl with short hair, a tall dark haired girl with intense, penetrating eyes, and a pretty if slightly heavy girl with soft, curly brown hair and hazel eyes—seemed content to defer to the apparent leader of the quartet.
Naturally, it was the leader who spoke first. “Professor French?” the pretty long-haired brunette in the faded jean jacket inquired as she knocked on the door jam. “Hi, I’m Lisa Raymond, and these are my friends Erin and Sondra, and that’s Leah. We’re checking on possible courses to take next semester, and we’d really like to find out more about your ‘Forensic Methodology 101’ course.”
Bill French politely returned the smiles that were warmly directed at him. It wasn’t every day that a group of pretty co-eds showed up at his door, and he felt favorably inclined to satisfy their curiosity. “Yes, girls,” he affirmed as he checked his watch, “but I have to leave soon. I would be happy to answer your questions if you can keep them brief. I can give you, perhaps… twenty minutes, is that enough time?”
Lisa nodded as she enthusiastically replied, “Oh yes, twenty minutes is more than enough time for us to get what we need here.”
At that, he invited them into the office and set some papers aside. “I’m sorry I don’t have a chair for each of you,” he announced as Lisa and Erin sat down opposite him. Glancing up, he gently admonished Sondra, “Oh, young lady, I prefer we keep the door opened. Please don’t close it.” He didn’t notice Lisa’s subtle nod of approval in Sondra’s direction; instead, he thanked Sondra as she swung the door open again, and returned his attention to the group as a whole.
“Now ladies, what would you like to know?” Lisa proceeded to ask a series of questions, concluding with, “Will we get a chance to visit any of the facilities where they do medical examinations… or autopsies, that sort of thing?”
The genial man with the bow tie shook his head. “Well, I do take students to see procedures in various hospitals and at the medical examiner’s office, but not in the 101 class. Now, if you are a pre-med major, and you take the 301 or 401 class, then we would visit those types of facilities in those classes. But not in the 101 class.”
“That’s what we really needed to know professor,” Lisa stated in a satisfied voice as Sondra’s arm suddenly swung up from behind her. The man seated behind the desk had no chance to react before a neon purplish beam leapt forward from the translucent rod that the raven-haired girl with the piercing blue eyes pointed at him. His face, frozen in shocked surprise, teetered before toppling slowly forward. Only Erin’s quick reflexes spared the professor the indignity—and the pain—of having his face smack flush upon the wooden desktop.
“Quick, close that door and lock it!” Lisa directed Sondra in a loud whisper. As the tall junior in the snug sweat pants complied, Erin handed Lisa a small device that she had taken out of her pocket. It was identical to the device that Lisa had used on Cynthia Richardson during the audacious capture of their current controller in her own office.
As she maneuvered around the corner of the desk, Erin pulled the man’s head back up; in the process of doing this, she caused the chair to pull back from under his desk. A wide bemused smile appeared on Leah’s face. “Oh my god, he’s got a huge boner!” she reported to the others. Lisa sighed, privately wishing that the Omegan’s had not left quite so much of Leah’s personality unchanged during her indoctrination.
As she was about to make a snide remark of her own, Lisa suddenly recalled that she had gotten Cynthia off after having rearranged her thoughts. Certainly, the administrator’s orgasm hadn’t interfered with the process; now Lisa wondered if it could have possibly enhanced it…
“Take his cock out,” she told Leah. “Are you crazy?!” the pretty girl with the sandy-blonde pixie haircut exclaimed. Lisa explained her reasons, then watched amusedly as Leah proceed to unzip the professor’s pants, deftly extract his cock and start to stroke the shaft with a single, apparently well-practiced hand. “I used to love doing this, but now… Yuck!” she offered with a distasteful tone.
The sight of the middle-aged man’s tomato colored cock head caused Lisa to echo Leah’s disgust. ‘Yuck indeed,’ she thought. Her frown persisted as she carefully placed the device upon the man’s forehead and pressed a series of red jewels on its outer surface. In response, the suction cups on the backside began to pull the device down tightly against his skin. With this accomplished, she looked down at her cohort and told her, “Good… keep him hard, but don’t get him off until I’m finished with the implantation. Until then, keep his cum inside of him! And don’t you dare get any on me or I’ll make you lick it up!”
Again Lisa pressed a series of the jeweled buttons, which caused all of the red jewels on the outside ring to begin glowing, their intensity increasing steadily. As their brightness reached a crescendo, the dull white jewel in the center of the device began to pulsate. Leaning against the edge of his desk, Lisa noted how the man’s facial expression grew more blank with every successive cycle.
A few moments later, as his eyelids began to flutter, Lisa positioned herself a bit closer to him. The professor’s mind would soon be helpless to prevent the invasion of his thoughts that Lisa had pre-scripted at her controller’s direction. When his eyes fluttered for a final time, then closed and reopened about halfway, Lisa knew it was time to launch her assault.
“Professor, listen carefully to the sound of my voice. The sound of my voice is the sound of your thoughts. The sound you now hear is the sound of your thoughts. You must obey your thoughts. Do you understand this?"
The professor did not reply, but he did nod his head slightly in the affirmative. She checked the device again; it had successfully opened his mind in a manner that would permit Lisa to climb inside with her words and do some rearranging.
“Listen carefully to your own thoughts, professor. You will obey all of what your thoughts say to do. You cannot act contrary to your own thoughts; you don’t even want to try. What your thoughts tell you to do is correct and true, without exception. Isn’t this so?”
“Yes, my thoughts are correct and true, without… exception,” the professor repeated quietly. He heard his own voice telling him what he thought, and it sounded to him as though he was hearing it from inside a giant drum.
Lisa brushed a few stands of hair from her face as she leaned in closer towards her subject’s right ear. “I have an important appointment to make. I must call the medical examiner’s office and arrange to give Lisa Raymond and her friends a tour there at precisely 9 a.m. I will tell the examiner that I have several students that are interested in a career in forensic science, and that I want to show them the medical examiner’s facilities. I must not fail in this task.”
“I must not… fail.”
“That’s right, I must not and will not fail. If they do not agree at first, I will use all of my persuasion to get Lisa Raymond and her friends inside the medical examiner’s office at 9 a.m. tomorrow morning.”
“9 a.m.” the professor recited flatly.
Lisa pressed for the mental kill. “Once we’re inside, I will obey every command Lisa Raymond and her friends give me without any hesitation or resistance.”
“No hesitation… or resistance.”
Lisa glanced at her watch; it was time to wrap this up. “After I have arranged the visit to the coroner’s office, I’ll call Cynthia Richardson back and inform her that ‘all is in order.’ After that, I’ll need to clear my calendar for tomorrow morning, and then I’ll be free to do anything I already had planned between now and then. I have to meet Lisa at the coroner’s office at nine tomorrow morning, so I’ll leave early and drive extra carefully.”
“Yes… extra carefully.”
Lisa allowed herself a small satisfied smile as she concluded by telling the professor to close his eyes, count out loud to three hundred, and then do what his thoughts told him he should do. As the number one cleared his lips, she nodded to Leah, who began to rub up and down his shaft with great vigor.
At the count of 73, pre-cum began to ooze out of the head of his cock. Lisa couldn’t be certain, but despite the mind-numbing effects of the device that controlled him, the geeky professor seemed to be smiling faintly as he counted.
Erin and Leah exchanged giggles as the professor’s counting became increasingly irregular in time and ragged in tone. As he turned the corner on one hundred, Leah ramped up her assault. ‘She’s really good at this,’ Lisa thought, making a mental note to check in the near future if Leah’s skills were as keen with female genitals.
“One-hundred thirty… one-hunnnnnndredddd uh… thirty-onnnnnnne… onnnnne-hunnnndredddddddddd thirrrrrrrrrrty-twoooooooooooo ooooooooooohhhhhhh,”
At the count of 134, the professor finally surrendered his load, as Leah brought forth a very impressive eruption. Soon there seemed to be cum every where: on the desk, the floor, the professor’s pants… Fortunately, sensing what was coming, Lisa had moved out of the line of fire. Leah wasn’t as fortunate, and she now regarded the sticky cum that coated her hand as though it contained a deadly disease.
Knowing that every moment they delayed their departure increased the chances that someone else would happen by, Lisa instructed the others to put the professor back in presentable shape. As Leah stuck his now shriveling cock back into his pants, she couldn’t help wondering what he had felt as he counted as Lisa had commanded. Even as she pondered this, the counting continued, moving past the two century mark.
As Erin helped pull the professor’s chair back in its previous position, Lisa placed a few final thoughts into his mind, telling him that all he remembered about their visit was that he answered their questions and then they left. She also told him that the cum splattered over him and half his office was nothing to be alarmed about; he should simply treat it as dirt and clean it up accordingly. To all of the Omegan servants, the equating of male cum and dirt seemed perfectly appropriate.
As the count passed 250, Lisa quickly recovered the device from his forehead, returned it to Erin and followed her comrades out through the reopened door. They would know soon just how successful they had been.
Twenty minutes later, the phone on Cynthia Richardson’s desk rang. “Yes Professor French, how nice of you to call me back.” She paused as she listened to his message. “That’s wonderful, Bill. Thank you so much. Goodbye.”
Now it was up to Lisa to carry out the rest of the plan. Cynthia had already offered her a tremendous inducement to succeed… the reward of allowing the girl to suckle her superior’s luscious pussy for as long as she wanted to, and in Cynthia’s own bed to boot. The administrator’s clit spasmed in anticipation as she recalled the glee in Lisa’s voice, uttered at the prospect of claiming such a treasured prize.
Meanwhile, In Bill French’s office, the professor scratched his head as he made a disturbing discovery. “My goodness, this office is filthy… and my pants too! It looks like there was an explosion in here!”
While Professor French attended to his messy office, Zandira attended to her dire situation. She studied her pursuers closely as they gradually worked their way closer to her. They had previously separated for brief periods on several occasions, and now she now waited for another such occurrence to spring her plan.
As she waited, the words of her favorite Alliance intelligence operations trainer now flooded back to her. “This must be a last resort. Be completely certain you have no other options left to you before you even contemplate doing this.”
She knew she had no other choices. Now what she needed was a chance.
After several minutes, she got it. The aliens spilt up to search around a sizable hill just adjacent to her tree. One alien remained behind while the others disappeared behind either side of the rise. The insignia on the remaining soldier’s uniform indicated she was a junior-level officer, while her compatriots were not officers, but rather Omegan conscripts.
Zandira decided that too worked to her advantage, and she began to slowly climb up the trunk of the tree to get a better angle from which to attack from. Vendarans may have resembled humans, but they were far more dexterous than them—a fact Zandira now hoped was not well known to a certain Omegan officer.
Reaching her destination, it was now time to spring her trap. The hunted was now the hunter.
Nimble as a cat, Zandira leapt from the branch she was perched on. Drawing her weapon in mid-fall, she aimed and fired at the astonished Omegan. The neon green energy beam stuck the blue-skinned soldier before she could train her own weapon on her attacker.
Landing gracefully, Zandira quickly pulled the immobilized woman behind a nearby outcropping. After propping up the woman against a large rock, she opened up her belt and withdrew a small pill. She then laid it on the rock before removing a small device from a concealed side pocket in her pants.
The device was spherically shaped. Twisting it apart, Zandira placed one half on the Omegan’s forehead and the other on her own. She then extended her index fingers to each half and closed her eyes.
Both devices began to glow brightly. Zandira suddenly dropped to the ground as though she had been shot. Both her own body and the Omegan captive's began to shudder violently. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, their bodies stilled, and the glow faded from the devices.
Zandira shook her head rapidly back and forth, trying to rouse herself. Her body ached all over, and she felt disoriented, like she had just been through a black hole.
When she finally opened her eyes again, she had trouble focusing on the similarly disoriented woman before her. Fortunately, she regained her senses moments before her opponent. She again pointed the weapon in her hand and fired. The purple beam put her opponent down for the count.
Too unsteady to stand, Zandira crawled towards her adversary after retrieving the pill. Reaching the enemy, she quickly slipped it inside the other woman’s mouth. She then collected both halves of the mental device and flung them under a nearby bush. ‘I won’t be needing that again,’ she told herself.
As the Alliance agent anticipated, the weapon had been set only to stun, and the adversary was quickly regaining consciousness. As she attained it, she coughed violently for a moment, ceasing as her amazed gaze fell on her captor.
Rising unsteadily, Zandira marveled at sights she could not have imagined until a few moments before. Holding her hand before her face, she studied its delicate looking pale blue skin. Shifting her gaze down to the other woman, she caught sight of a reflection from a silver belt buckle that captured her striking aqua eyes.
But the strangest sight by far was that of the face on the enemy’s. Zandira looked into her own lavender eyes in wonder. A pang of sorrow swept over her as she saw the life in them begin to ebb.