The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Penny continued to stare at the run-down warehouse in front of her. There was no indication that this was the place she wanted. It looked so similar to the other warehouses around it. They were all shells of crumbling red brick, smashed window panes, and fading painted signs. She wished that she hadn’t had to come alone. She felt Jill’s presence only as a squeezing hand, a kiss on the cheek, and a plan in her head.

Something loomed from the dark corridor. The emergence of this middle-aged woman into the weak light of the winter afternoon rekindled her hopes. It was the empty expression she wore, the way she shuffled and stumbled as she moved, and Penny finally felt sure of where she was going. As they drew closer together it became clear that there was a slight red welt forming on the woman’s forehead, at a place where her foundation had been rubbed away.

They were about to brush past each other. The woman suddenly saw her, opened her mouth, as if to say something. She blinked, slowly, one eye closing before the other. Then she smiled. Perhaps she had just re-learned how to control her facial muscles.

Penny felt a thrill at the possibility that she, too, would soon be wearing these tell-tale signs of mind manipulation. She squeezed her thighs together at the thought of it. And then she remembered that she couldn’t show sexual excitement. She considered huddling behind one of the many piles of bricks and getting the pressure of orgasm out of her system by teasing it from herself with her fingers. But no. She was adamant that she would save up these feelings for when she was surrendering herself. She wanted to give both body and mind. Altogether, all at once.

Her fingers flexing with sexual need, and her eyes filmed over with fantasy, she made her way through a long dark corridor to a locked door deep within the building.

Blinking against the tidal wave of light, she was assessed by an unimpressed bouncer.

“You a cop?” he asked, redundantly, as if anyone would say yes.

Penny shook her head, her slightness and indecision making it clear that she was just another client. Catching herself a second too late, she also tried to look slightly lost, as if she knew almost nothing about this wonderful place and didn’t quite realise where she was.

The bouncer wasn’t looking for acting, just for cops. “Come in,” he ordered.

She found herself in a bright waiting room, red plastic chairs in neat lines, making two sides of a triangle against a corner.

“Come in!” the bouncer barked, and she moved forward just in time to avoid the heavy door closing again. The turbulence it produced seemed to pick her up like a stray leaf on the breeze, and she found herself at the reception desk.

A black woman, attractive despite—maybe because of—the strong lines of her jaw, too young to be working behind a desk and clearly bored, stared at her with weary skepticism. “What’re you here for?” she asked, looking for reasons to turn unsafe clients away. “Don’t you know we’re closing in an hour?”

Penny, for a second, resembled the mindless cud-chewing woman she had just seen leave the building. She had totally forgotten what to say.

Desperately searching for an answer, her eyes fell on a man coming from a doorway that led into an unseen room. He stared straight ahead, taking deliberate steps. His feet seemed to be filled with buoyancy, as he raised them up too far and brought them down so slowly. He held a cap in his hands, which he rotated with his fingers.

The receptionist stood, quickly reached him, placed the cap on his head. “There ya go. That’ll hide the mark. It’ll go on its own in a few hours, maybe.”

He smiled at her, as if he had come across her at a party and was embarrassed that he did not know her name.

She led him, uncomplaining, to sit on one of the red plastic chairs as he recovered.

He took the cap from his head again and started twirling it in his fingers. His eyes stared straight ahead.

The receptionist went back behind her desk. “Don’t worry, girl, he’ll be right as rain in a few minutes. Then he’ll be able to leave. He’ll look a bit unsteady, but everyone’s got home safely so far. And we’ve had,” she pursed her lips, “at least two hundred clients so far.”

She stressed the so far, as if she cheerfully accepted that, y’know, anything could happen. Could be today, could be tomorrow.

Penny was sweating slightly in the heat of the room, and in the heat of the moment. Perspiration traced a line down her thighs, and which she still couldn’t stop squeezing together.

“Y’alright, girl?”

“Yes,” Penny lied, imagining herself saying the word in throes of ecstasy. “I just really need the toilet.”

“That door, there,” the receptionist pointed, “but you’ve got to answer these questions first.” She tapped a pencil on the clipboard in front of her for emphasis.

“Sure,” replied Penny, ready to do anything to gain access to wonderfully blank pleasures. She couldn’t stop thinking of the man, twirling the cap in his hands with an empty smoothness; or the woman, finding joy in the movements of her face.

“So, what’re you here for?” It was like she didn’t want to share the reality of the business going on within this secretive building unless Penny already knew of it.

“Well, things at work have been really hectic recently, but I can’t afford a holiday,” Penny started, too fast and too rehearsed. The took a breath and slowed down. “I’ve, uh, heard that this... procedure... has a wonderfully calming effect...?” Although maybe I want the opposite, thought Penny, squeezing her thighs together even harder.

The receptionist nodded. Another test had been passed.

“You’re not going in to work tomorrow, are you, girl?” the receptionist frowned. “You’ve got to give it a full 48 hours before you can be sure not to act a bit spaced out. And the mark,” and she pointed at her own forehead, “some people, their skin reacts too much.” She considered Penny critically. “You’re so pale, girl, so light. Do you bruise easily?”

“Only when people hit me!” said Penny, trying to laugh.

The receptionist didn’t speak.

“Uh, no,” Penny added. “And I’ve taken a few days off work to get some time to relax. I’m going to tell people that I did a bit of shopping, watched some holovids, sang some karaoke.”

“Good,” and the receptionist seemed convinced. “Your exposure time is maximum one hour for the first session. We gotta see if you react strange.” She smiled reassuringly. “That only happens to one in a hundred, and generally it’s our older clients who have,” an intake of breath, “psychotic episodes. But next time you come in you’ll be able to go up to three hours. OK, one hour—that will be 100 creds.”

Penny waved her wrist over the payment area. There was a tinny ding. The bouncer watched the transaction with the concentration of an employee who intended to be paid regularly and often from such profits.

“Thank you. Your payment also indicates an entry into a contract whereby you accept that your actions are undertaken at your own risk,” the receptionist said, as if it was so unimportant to be worth only a passing mention. She pointed to the red chairs. “And you’ll need to come in earlier in future to get more than one hour.”

Penny sat down, head swimming with closeness to her aim.

“Wait a second,” the receptionist said, “didn’t you want the toilet?”

“Silly me!” laughed Penny, getting up again.

Using the toilet, careful not to touch herself intimately, scared that she would abandon the pretence of innocence and just fuck herself silly there and then.

She flushed. She stood. While washing her hands, she looked at herself in the mirror. She imagined the tentacle attached to her mirror-image, softly sucking, enjoying its meal as she selflessly gave up her thoughts.

She ran the cold water loudly and splashed her face. She avoided looking in the mirror again.

I. Must. Not. Get. Horny.

He was the third person to study her so appraisingly within twenty minutes.

When Penny left the bathroom, cheeks red with cold, she had almost bumped into him.

“Welcome, welcome,” he started, rushing through a script. “First of all, you’re not one of those freaks who gets off on having your brains sucked out through your head, are ya?”

“Well, I,” Penny stammered, genuinely feeling assaulted, “what kind of sick person...?”

Although perhaps she was not feeling assaulted for the right reasons.

“So, to make absolutely sure,” and he clicked his jaw, “right now you’re not turned out by the idea of being a blank, mindless servant to an alien tentacle? You don’t want to give yourself up to the pleasure of being a host for its spores?”

Yes. Totally, utterly, magnificently.

The sharp pang of desire almost made her swoon.

“I’m sorry,” she said, recovering herself. “The person who informed me about this place said not to eat for at least 12 hours. And it’s so hot in here!” She fanned herself with one hand. “What’s that you were saying about servants?” She tried to distract him, not wanting to go into the fake details that she and Jill had invented for explaining how she knew about the secretive business.

“OK then,” he grunted, marginally reassured. “I’ve to got to make sure, y’know. I tossed one girl out of here a few weeks ago. She took all her clothes off, and was... getting intimate with the...”

His eyes took on a slightly faraway expression.

Yes, Penny wanted to say, that was my friend Jill. Like me, she wants nothing more than to have her ‘brains sucked out through her head’. But you ruined it, you bastard.

“Anyway, any fuckin’ crap like that and Jimmy over here will throw you out. Right Jimmy?”

The bouncer turned ever so slightly, his shoulder tilting towards her. He lifted a hand derisively. His thick body rippled, mostly with muscle.

“Ya understand, little lady? And I’ll get to keep the video evidence. You never know... things like that might have buyers.”

Penny gulped, nodded, hid her anger and rebellion behind a carapace of lost fear. Her eyes shimmered with the mix of emotions. And his shined with the brittleness of those who make money from the weaknesses of others.

“OK. Let’s show you the procedure.” He said it as an exotic collection of syllables that couldn’t possible be a real word. Somehow it ended in an a.

She followed him through the door, the door, the one that had dispensed happy cheerful empty people (and a few raving ones) with tireless regularity. She tried to control her breathing. Getting all worked up, getting all heavy with the rolling feelings of lust, and she would be thrown out.

How she would kick and scream and claw and bite if they tried that. She clenched her fists in violent resolution.

“You OK?”

“Um, yes, it’s just not like I imagined.”

They were in a featureless, windowless room. Apart from 5 cubicles, hidden and closed off by heavy drapes, there was absolutely nothing to say about it.

“Well, all you need is a place to sit, a bit of privacy, and the tentacle. You won’t notice anything else anyhow.”

They walked up to the first cubicle, and he pulled back the curtain. It was occupied, a balding head visible over the back of the revolving office chair. One hand dangled louche over the armrest, splayed fingers twitching with unusual sensations.

Penny’s heart was in her throat, and the steaming itching of her clitoris sent hot tendrils around her body. Her own fingers twitched in response.

“Hey, Jem, how long has cubicle number one got left?” he asked through the doorway.

“Ten minutes, Chris,” was the receptionist’s bored response.

The man had an afterthought: “Oh yeah, by the way, I’m Chris. Nice to meetcha.” He did not turn towards Penny to say this. He pulled the curtain shut again.

She walked to the next cubicle, trying to hide her erect nipples and reddened face. She fanned herself again.

“Yeah, it has to be hot in here. The plant, it likes heat. It’s like whatever you’d call “tropical” on that planet, right?” And Chris pulled at his own t-shirt to display that it was sticking to him with the adhesive of his own perspiration. “I thought about putting in a nice screen, showing some footage of a beach with palms waving in the breeze. You know, some historical footage.”

He paused.

“It’s a real shame that places like that don’t exist nomore. Still,” and he laughed, “one more reason to come to me, eh? The more the world has to forget, the more business I do.”

He took her up to the third cubicle and pulled the curtain across. It was empty.

So, at last, was his mouth.

“You just sit in that chair and I’ll hook you up.”

Penny sat down, feeling a certain moistness against her shorts. She tried to arrange herself in a way that wasn’t legs splayed, crotch open, sweat and pheromones wafting into the world to display her abandonment to lust.

“OK, so the way this works is I’m gunna reach behind here,” and he pointed to the curtain behind her, which lay against the wall, “and get your tentacle. I’m gunna fix it to your forehead,” and he pronounced it more like ‘forrid’, “and it’s going to work its magic. Whatever’s been working you up, whatever you want to get rid of, it’ll just,” and his hands snapped at the air like crab pincers, “take ‘em away. You think of the thing you want to not think about, and it feed on some of the energy. You know, brain stuff.”

He paused, wishing he had a more technical language to express himself.

“So, it seems less important for the next few days. I guess it stops the neurons from firing as strongly.” He hesitated, lost on an outcrop of knowledge dimly remembered from his mandatory pre-U neuroscience classes. He went to firmer, anecdotal ground. “People, they come in here to forget all sorts of things. So, you ready?”

Penny nodded. He rotated her chair to face the back wall. He felt the fabric, and found a thick tube that responded with a rubbery squishiness against his questing fingers. Then he navigated through the split between the two curtains and grabbed the tentacle. He pulled it up, hand over hand, until he had the end of it.

He held it, a grey-green length of hose, a foot from Penny’s face. It wiggled and wriggled sensitively. She imagined it hanging from some unimaginable tree, latching blindly onto animals that came past. She had heard that there were monkey-like creatures, which had started to develop neural features analogous to human frontal lobes, and they would fight over access to the tentacles.

The wonderful, mind-sucking tentacles.

She had to try to control her breathing again.

“Here it comes,” he winked, and brought it closer. “You know, I think it likes you.”

She saw its little pink puckered sucker squirming and contracting as it first became blurry and then disappeared from her field of vision.

At first, it sucked merely at her flesh, finding adequate purchase on the smooth youthful skin above her eyebrows.

She gasped as it started sucking at her mind.

Penny did not hear the curtain being pulled back into place behind her.

First, her eyes went dim, as the torrent of sensory input was eaten by the plant. At the same time, she became totally unconcerned by looking at anything, and retreated wholly into her own imagination.

Eyes still open, and vaguely blinking in response to dryness, she had one last concrete and willed thought—I must not think about The Plan. She had spent all day imagining The Plan sealed away in an envelope in the drawer of a desk. She did not want to let the tentacle shred it up now, lick up all the ink, make The Plan invisible. The Plan was the first thing she had to consider after waking up. It burned in huge red letters at the back of her mind, and that is where it would stay until later.

In its place, covering The Plan so that it was not sucked away with everything else, she visualised the beach which Chris had suggested. Its sand sparkled and crunched with mineral vitality under her feet. Her feet were warm on the baking golden texture. To her left, rows of palms, leaning happily towards the freshness of the sea. To her right, the waves, incessantly beating, breaking rocks down and down and down until they were pulverised particles. With time, anything could be broken down.

The waves, one two three, and in her mind the third was the biggest, a foamy crashing thing, lapping further up the shore and leaving a dark line of wetness.

(In reality, head lolled back, tentacle pulsating, her toes were wriggling and her hands were twitching, and there was a dark line of wetness.)

And then the tentacle reached into this dream and wrenched. Ever-hungry, it fed gloriously on the mental offerings.

First, the trees creaked and bent even more, a vacuum of pressure pulling them towards Penny.

Then, the sea started to come further up the sand. The crest of the waves curved toward her, responding to the overwhelming power of the tentacle.

It sucked the trees, it sucked the water, and then it even sucked the colour out of the world.

In her mind, Penny fell to her knees, pulled off whatever flimsy bikini top she was wearing, somehow pulled free of her panties with a quick tug, and offered herself completely to the insistent pressure and the sucking of the world-dominating force.

When the suckling tentacle was pulled from her head, Penny took some moments to swim back into the real world. Thankfully, in the sweaty room full of the scents of others, it was difficult to detect the musk of her pussy. Also, it was completely acceptable for her to be dishevelled and covered in wet patches.

Her eyes came into focus, and she was jerked from lying in a grey world, almost empty apart from a few grains of sand on an otherwise featureless expanse, to the disappointment of the real world. The first thing she perceived was the end of the muscular hose, as its pink lips contracted in waves, still trying to eat away at her thoughts.

The chair was spun around.

“How was it? You still with us?” Chris snapped his fingers in front of her face. Her eyes followed them.

“Good, good. You’ll be fine in a few minutes. Where d’you plan to go next? Y’remember?”

Plan, thought Penny. I have a plan. The Plan.

“Yes, Chris, I feel a bit wobbly but. I know. Where I’m going next.”

“Great.” And suddenly his smile turned to contrition. “Look, I’m sorry you didn’t get the full hour. You came so late and we gotta pack up on time—I don’t pay overtime. So, y’know, next time I’ll give you a few extra minutes.”

“I have no idea how long I was in there anyway,” admitted Penny. “It was all... so...", and she felt the fumblings of the tentacle in her mind again.

She squeezed her thighs together.

“Gotcha, gotcha. Just that some clients set their alarms and demand exactly 60 minutes.” Chris waved a hand in the air dimissively. “I’m glad that you’re more understanding.”

He helped her out of the chair. His hand felt repulsive—clammy and warm and animal—to a mind still unused to the real, used to the unreal.

“Thank you, I think I’ll be fine.” Penny played up her wobbly reaction by stepping daintily to the door.

“Well, I gotta go. By the way, the mark on your forehead is barely visible—no worries about wearing anything over it. Jem’ll watch you for a few and make sure you can get home. She’ll lock up behind you. See you again soon!”

Chris walked out as Penny worked on slowly reaching the doorway. When she got there, she took a few deep breaths, and held on to the frame it as if unsteady.

Jem was messing with her nails, and barely even bothered to look up. “You getting your strength back?”

Penny made sure Chris had left, and gave it a few long seconds more. Then Penny let herself fall, ostentatiously.

“Dear God,” cried Jem as she rushed over.

“I’m OK, just help me up,” said Penny weakly. “I guess it affected me a bit more than I wanted.”

She stumbled against Jem as she stood. Their hot bodies collided and, in the heat, bare flesh stuck together with moisture.

I thought I’d have to do this with Chris or the bouncer. Jill will be excited that I got to try this out on a girl instead.

Jem half-helped her to her chair behind the desk. She stood in front of her and looked down with a mix of fear and overwhelming desire to leave work on-time.

“I’ll be OK,” said Penny, and starting staring at Jem’s crotch.

Jem took a few moments to realise, but: “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” mumbled Penny, and acted tearing herself away.

Then she looked back.

“It’s just...” and she let the raging torrent of her sexuality loose. She arced her back, pushed one hand past her waistband, and played with a hard nipple with the other.

Jem stared down with concern.

“I was trying to make it suck away all the thoughts I have about girls,” whimpered Penny. “I was trying to forget how ridiculously turned on I get as I watch girls play with themselves. But, right before I woke up, I started thinking about you.”

Before she could pull away, Penny grabbed on to Jem’s manicured hand. “I. Really. Need. To. Fuck.” She let her eyes take on the sexual desperation that she truly felt.

It was a long-shot, probably an even longer-shot than seducing either of the two guys, but Penny wanted to leave violence as an absolute last resort.

Jem’s hand twitched, spasmed, but did not pull away from Penny’s grasp. “I understand. But make it quick, right?”

Penny hastily pulled Jem towards her, slid from the chair, and put Jem in it.

“I want to see if you’re as wet as I am,” she smiled, and helped Jem to pull down her panties from underneath her miniskirt. Jem lifted her ass off the chair gloriously. Then they pushed the fabric up above her waist.

Jem displayed herself, a vertical cleft marked by the trimmed hairs of a woman who looked after her body. She pushed her hips forward, giving Penny easy access.

“I know it’s so wrong,” Penny admitted, keeping up the act.

“But it feel so right?” Jem half-asked, half-gasped, as Penny started using her well-practised mouth and tongue. Hands lightly pressing on the thighs in front of her, Penny assaulted the dark slit in front of her. The colouration, the smell, the prettiness of it: it reminded her strongly of Jill. Her mouth explored the entire area, teasing the labia, testing the entrance, and assessing the swelling of her erect clitoris.

She drew back. “It’s all coming back, my girlfriend is so like you.” She looked up at Jem saucily. “No wonder I got out of that chair and away from the tentacle and wanted to jump your bones.”

“Come on, come on,” insisted Jem, her pussy bare to the air and wanting to be sucked on.

I’m going to suck and suck and suck you dry, thought Penny, resuming her attentions, an extra sizzle of warmth travelling up her body, already hot to the touch.

Penny tried manipulating the clitoris with her tongue. Jem moaned, and pushed against her lover’s mouth for more stimulation.

Then Penny sucked on it, gently. Jem cried out slightly.

Then Penny did both at the same time, sucking and probing, sucking and probing. Jem’s hands went to her swelling bosom and squeezed them together.

Finally, Penny used one hand to play with Jem’s moist entrance. Her mouth encircled the engorged clit. Her other arm went around one thigh and gently pulled the two women closer together. She started to push her finger further in. Starting to imagine Jill’s sleek chocolate body, an opening in the curtain letting in silvered moonlight to fall across her, she became yet more animalistic.

Jem’s hands didn’t know where to be. In the end, they grasped on to the chair’s armrests and helped her to contort her body to get complete contact with the tongue and the fingers. With a shattering release of a working day’s boredom, Jem came.

One hand suddenly cradled the back of Penny’s head and she kept it there to force her to extend the feelings of coming down from the orgasm.

In a fleeting moment of tenderness, Jem said “I’m sorry you couldn’t forget for long, honey,” while staring into the eyes of the voracious girl still kneeling in front of her. “Are you OK?”

Penny nodded. “Can I use the toilet?”

“Sure, sure,” said Jem, lying back heavily in languid bliss.

Penny reached the toilet. Her hand went to the handle. She started to pull, but then pivoted back towards the desk instead. “Are there video cameras in this room?”

She was innocent and naïve and it had only just occurred to her too late. Her eyes radiated concern and her fingers, forgotten and neglected half-way through their task, curled in surprise.

Jem snapped awake. “Shit, shit, shit,” she repeated.

Penny went into the toilet and the door closed on one final, explosive, “Shit!”

The plan’s working, contemplated Penny. She had known even before today that there were cameras recording everything. Chris had threatened Jill with showing the footage to her parents. Footage, Jill explained, of a young woman, shot from the corner of the room and looking down at her spreadeagled in an office chair. A pile of clothes had been discarded and had been tossed around the cubicle. She grasped the tentacle attached to her forehead, and starting obscenely pumping on it, both hands slipping on its surface. Then, having used too much force, the tentacle came free.

And that’s when she had found a different use for its obscene length.

Jill had said she enjoyed watching it. She had said that she thought Chris had enjoyed it too.

Clean and fresh, Penny made sure she had collected all her belongings. Then she waved at Jem to catch her eye.

Jem tore her gaze away from the screen, with its soundless images of cunnilingus. She didn’t bother to say goodbye.

Penny then opened and closed the exterior door loudly. Then she hid in the corner.

Now she needed two lucky breaks to happen simultaneously.

Clearly Jem wasn’t checking the live images (that’s lucky break one), as she simply turned the light off as she left the room and walked away from Penny towards the desk without bothering to look towards her side of the room (that’s lucky break two).

Jem was still muttering under her breath. Clearly sex with clients was a big enough deal to be something of a distraction.

Penny slipped into the office and hid in the shadows cast by a shelving unit. As long as Jem continued to not check thoroughly...

While waiting for either discovery or freedom, Penny let her mind wander. And she realised interesting difference between her own experience and the one relayed by Jill: Chris hadn’t told Penny about the insemination tube. Perhaps he had stopped using it as part of his spiel because it clearly just excited the freaks who got turned on by an alien entity peeling away their thoughts and leaving behind nothing but a mindlessly receptive drone. But Jill had said that he’d mentioned it to her, off-handedly, trying to squash rumours. There are five tentacles, and then only one insemination tube, she had reported. There are two reasons not to be scared of the ‘alien plant baby’ rumours which the cops are using to warn people off using the plant. One, he’s trapped the tube somehow so it can’t come out any of the five holes—he can’t cut it off because that kills the plant. Two, the normal tentacles have to find a chemically acceptable spore-receiving area, and it’s unlikely that a human body provides that.

Things being cleared from a desk, hurriedly.

And then she had added, I wouldn’t mind finding out though, right?

A bag zipping up.

And they had giggled together, two girls admitting their first serious crush.

Footsteps moving past the room and heading towards the door.

A pause.

Penny held her breath. She was glad that Chris hadn’t talked about the insemination tube. She would have found it even harder to hide her true feelings if she had been faced with the glorious possibility of carrying the plant’s seed.

The darkness stirred and suddenly she could sense another presence, watchful and checking, hovering in the doorway just on the other side of the shelves.

It took a step into the void.

The beeping of a time-piece. “Shit, the kids.” Now mumbling, which would have been inaudible except for the spy’s unknown closeness: “Fucking no-good father.”

And the intruder left, exterior door slamming behind her, and Penny could exhale and refresh the staleness in her lungs. She waited, she waited, nothing was happening, and before she knew it joy broke through reason and her body was rushing back to its goal and she was following—hand in hand with herself, her passion leading and pulling roughly.

So, here she was, sitting in the same chair as before. She was naked, and feeling a deep kinship with Jill: she who had been here before, and who had formulated the so-far successful plan.

Now she had nothing to keep back. No plan to remember, no sealed-off area of her mind. Neither did she have to worry about someone waking her up too early. She had the wonderful tentacle all to herself, to get hot and sweaty with in this hot and sweaty room.

No, even better, she had wonderful tentacles all to herself. How much could they suck away, all together?

Penny stood and repeated the procedure from earlier, pulling out a tentacle from behind the curtain. It was just as delicious as she remembered, as she imagined—in fact even more so—a gray-green tube mottled with purple patches that shined iridescently in the light that she hadn’t noticed before. She held it, a heavy, spongy, yielding hose, in her left hand. With her right, she fumbled behind the curtain of the next cubicle. And, after a few moments, she brought out a second tentacle.

Barely able to control herself, Penny threw herself back into the chair. She jabbed the tentacle in her left hand towards her pussy. Come on come on come on, she demanded, I need you to suck on me!.

As the elastic ‘mouth’ of the vine realised with its plant idiocy that it was near a particularly warm and moist patch of animal flesh, it started to taste her. It must have liked what it found as, with familiar strength, it latched on to her. Immediately, Penny brought the tentacle in her right hand up to her forehead.

Oh God, yes, fuck me, suck me!, she said, immediately surrendering herself to the sensations.

Penny’s body was still turned on from earlier, and the first thought that came into her head as her vision dimmed was of licking Jem’s pussy to a shuddering completion.

The tentacle at her forehead started sucking, and her memory stretched and distorted. Penny’s arm, circling Jem’s thigh, was light years away in an infinite space. The sound of Jem’s heavy breathing came like the exhalations of a furnace from way above. The only thing close by within the sphere of Penny’s disembodied consciousness was her own tongue and her own teeth and her own lips and her assault of a pussy which lay before her. Yet the person behind that pussy stretched on and on and was being sucked away by the tingling nibbling mouth of that alien vine. Penny sucked herself, revelling in the sensation of the other body slipping away, inch by inch. And, with an elastic twang, suddenly she was alone in the grey world again, having forgotten what she was doing. A dim memory of the taste of some forbidden fruit was all that remained.

Hungering for another body to feast on, Penny’s imagination brought her Jill, spread-eagled in the very chair she was sitting in, a composite of memory and language and true knowledge of the desires of her friend’s body. The image was already being nibbled and sucked at the edges, and she couldn’t see Jill’s face. The light, somehow, played tricks with her eyes, she did not even clearly see Jill’s body. But, in the core of her being, she knew that it was Jill in front of her. Jill had come to her and Jill would come for her and they would come together and this wonderful plant would bring them everything.

In her left hand, Penny realised, she was holding a live thing. And there it was, the most clear and focused part of her dream, a tentacle that squirmed and wriggled and palpated in her hand. It had one single mind and one single purpose, to feed, and Penny wanted it to achieve its aim. Jill gasped as the tentacle latched onto her forehead and starting sucking on her thoughts.

In her right hand, Penny realised, she was holding another live thing. There it was, another tentacle squirming in her hand. And with the same symbiotic togetherness she let this one find a home in Jill’s exposed pussy. Jill bucked and gasped.

In her own pussy, Penny realised, she was holding yet another living thing. Her hands reached down, creeping across her belly, until they both held on to the thick piping entering into her, exploring her, testing her for suitability. And she impaled herself upon it, her shudders reaching down to the insensible plant creature, and being transmitted back into Jill. They were both impaled, just so, and feeding their sexuality to each other.

Just as this fantasy, turning dim and colourless and far away, was about to be sucked away, there was a vibration in her wrist.

Penny rolled and mewled and gasped for air in her seat.

She sat up.

Her hands found one tentacle sucking at her forehead, and she removed it with a sudden tingle of loving feeling.

With even more slowness and sadness, she pulled the second tentacle out of her and away from her. She felt the low heavy tiredness of orgasms still echoing deep within her; yet she was ready for more.

There was a banging and a ripping. Still vacant and elsewhere, Penny at first thought her communicator was shouting at her. But no, it came from behind the wall, where the plant was.

Unable to process multiple ideas at once, she immediately forgot this when her communicator buzzed again in her wrist. She pressed it.

“Penny, Penny, what-the-fuck Penny!” screeched a disembodied Jill with a disembodied voice.

“Uh. Here.” Penny still dimly remembered the touch of Jill’s body and wished it was here, too.

“I’ve been standing outside for ten minutes. What if the cops cruise past? What if Chris checks on this place at night? You were supposed to, you know, wait for me.”

“I thought you were here. With me,” said Penny, her brain fizzing as it tried to compute the difference between reality and fantasy. “I thought...” and she imagined rubbing and licking and fucking.

“Come open the door before I kick it down.”

And there was a banging, not far off, as if to underline the threat.

Penny stood and stumbled for the door. She didn’t know whether the air was burning or it was just her body, giving off a crazy flush of heat, emanating in waves each time that she tried to integrate this hollow reality with the full-blooded sexuality of her fantasies.

“Jill, do you know, have we ever...” and she didn’t know what to describe first—the expert tongues lapping at each other? The long, slow, hot kisses? The use of alien plant life as a dildo?

Suddenly the fantasy seemed hollow, and the grey colourness of reality was sadly all that was left.

“What the fuck are you talking about? Just come open the door,” Jill responded, and rattled it again.

“Wait, wait. Wait,” repeated Penny softly. “How do I know you’re Jill?”

“What the...?”

“How do I even know that there is a ‘Jill’? Is this just part of the shit my brain does while I’m hooked up to the plant?”

Penny reached out to the rattling door to see if her dream hand would stretch out an infinite distance, into the wavering border between her giving animal mind and the vegetative taking instincts of the plant, as a tentacle attached to her real head sucked her imagination away.

No. Her arm remained dependably boring, mundane in its lack of elasticity.

“I’m sorry, Jill, it’s just I’ve had such a good time.” And she reached the door, and she finally figured out how to operate it. It was like her fingers were noodles, slapping softly on the metal, but the unresponsive object yielded eventually.

And it opened to an angry young woman huddled in a coat.

“I’ve been thrown out of this place once before, and I don’t want to risk it happening again.”

Jill looked hard at her friend’s naked body.

“You’ve been playing with it, haven’t you? I’m just glad that I could wake you up. Y’know, without wrenching the tentacle from your head.”

Penny had nothing to say to that.

Then Jill looked hard at her friend’s face.

“Oh my God... you’ve only been here alone for a few hours. Look what it’s done to you.” She beamed with a mix of fascination and attraction. “Look at how... do you know this is real?”

Jill waved one hand in Penny’s face, who smiled wanly in response. “All I know is that I want to go back.”

The two women closed the door. Hand in hand, they went to the cubicles, Jill leading a shuffling and confused Penny.

As Jill pulled the curtain cross, Penny asked what she knew was a stupid question. “You know, Jill, how long has it been... that you’ve been... white?”

She paused, one hand on the curtain, trying to comprehend the reason for such a strange question. “Well, I hate to break it to you, kid, but this is the way I was born. Has the tentacle sucked away your memories of me?”

There was a pause, and then she decided on an answer herself.

“That’s unbelievably hot.” And Jill may just have been squeezing her thighs together, too.

Hesitating, Penny tried to answer. Eventually, “I guess it just took away reality and left some kind of fantasy. I had to give a good tongue-fucking to the secretary so that our plan could work.”

And it was good. Oh so good, she didn’t say.

Jill’s eyes widened in surprise, but then she reconsidered and her face settled into something more normal. “I guess it’s no more difficult than giving a blowjob to one of the chunky men that works here. In fact, you probably got off lightly. I bet you got her off lightly, too.” There was a wink and a smile in the joke, and Penny started to remember why she loved Jill so dearly. But she wasn’t finished just yet. “Was it... like you imagined?”

Penny didn’t know how to take Jill’s surprise, or Jill’s prudery. You mean, she wanted to ask, we’re not lesbian lovers? Are the fantastic, unbelievable, sexual memories I have just a fantasy left behind by the sucking tentacles of the creature? Is this the reality that I wanted to get rid of, wanted to forget? Talking about sex with my friend, sharing forbidden ideas, fantasising endlessly, but not actually fucking her?

Taking far too long to reply, Penny covered up the pause by looking as if she had come back from a stray patch of thoughtlessness. Head snapping to attention, she asked, “Sorry, you were saying?”

Jill smiled. “If a little bit of blankness is the price of admission, I’m good to go. Hook me up, young lady.”

“Would you like the head or the tenderloin first, madam?” asked Penny, curtseying slightly.

“Oh, whatever you recommend!” answered Jill, removing her clothes with haste and sitting in the chair. Penny watched, and considered, and realised that Jill must be at ease with Penny’s body, and Penny must previously have been at ease with Jill’s. But now it excited her and she wanted so much more of it than just to see it. And she could thank the tentacle for that.

She reached behind the curtain in order to say thank you to it. By giving it a good, slow, long meal.

As Penny pulled one tentacle towards Jill’s pussy, she had a thought. But it was interrupted, just as the tentacle started tasting Jill, by the sound of the creature ripping and rending restraints behind them.

Both women realised what it was simultaneously: “The insemination tube.”

“I guess it does find humans acceptable for its spores,” said Jill, eyes glinting with prurient imagination. “Perhaps it remembers my taste.” She giggled.

“Just imagine if it came loose. And found us through one of the holes. And, before we could wake up, it could pump its... seed into us.” Lost in the swirling madness of that image, Penny lost her hold on any other thought and started to move the tentacle towards herself.

“Hey, Penny, you can wait. You’ve had hours on this thing, you poor brain-fucked bitch.”

Penny snapped out of it, blinked, looked in Jill’s face. For a moment, she didn’t know who she was. Then she grasped on to her thought again. She focused on the operation of attaching the tentacle to her friend’s pussy. It tasted and latched and sucked.

Jill groaned as it started to stimulate her.

Reaching for the second tentacle, Penny planned what to say.

“Give it to me. Let it take away my thoughts,” writhed a licentious Jill.

“You’ve got it,” affirmed Penny, the now tentacle undulating and gasping an inch from Jill’s forehead. As an afterthought: “Jill, sweetie, one favour.”

“Yes, yes, yes?” demanded Jill.

“As it sucks away your thoughts, please keep at the fore-front of your mind, for as long as possible...”

“Yes, yes!”

“The fact you are not a lesbian, and that you do not want to have sex with me.”

And the tentacle latched on to Jill’s forehead, already sucking greedily at the fresh delights presented to it.

Penny bent down and whispered into Jill’s ear. “You are thinking about how wrong it would be to have sex with me. You are thinking about how we are not lovers. You are thinking that my naked body is not a massive turn-on.”

She made her way to the next cubicle, murmuring to herself.

“When you wake up, you’ll be just like me. Totally ignorant of reality in favour of a much, much hotter fantasy.”

And she plugged herself in to the wonderful machinations of the creature, which somewhere behind the wall lay lustful and strong just like its meals. In its desire it whipped and tore at its restraints, and in its desperation to inseminate the willing vessels it only sucked more longingly on their minds.