The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Rebecca Brannagan had been a detective for several years. In all that time, she had done many things on the job, and experienced many different facets of her work.

The only thing she hadn’t done yet in the line of duty was become jaded, cynical or bored. She still had yet to become disillusioned with her work.

Even after all the time that had passed, and even after making it out of some truly narrow scrapes, she still loved her job as much as ever. She loved the thrill of a fresh case, the thrill of making all the pieces come together and fit; the danger of the work, the risk. It never got old to her. She was still as eager and as keen as the first day she’d been on the job.

And each time she received a new assignment, it increased her enthusiasm for her work. She couldn’t help but get excited when they gave her another assignment. It meant that she got to experience the delight of carrying out her work all over again.

Her latest assignment was arguably the most exciting of all the ones she’d ever been given. It was undercover work—her favorite kind. It was only on the undercover cases that you got to dance so closely with danger; every step and move made with the knowledge that at any second your cover could be blown. The thrill made even more palpable by the exposure to secret information that your opponents didn’t want you to have, and didn’t want you to see. The satisfaction that came if you were lucky enough to uncover the secret for which you were going undercover in the first place.

Yes, Rebecca loved undercover work. She’d done plenty of it in the past, so it was familiar to her. But the stakes were so much higher this time.

Rebecca’s latest assignment, which had led her to go undercover, was to source a new drug that had recently come onto the drug markets. The drug was so new that there wasn’t much information available about it yet. In fact, there was hardly any. The only thing she knew about it—that anyone knew about it, in the entire police department—was that it was called “Euphoria,” and it was dangerous. No one had any information on it beyond this, but Rebecca was hoping that after tonight, that would all change.

Getting the assignment had been a moment of pride for Rebecca. It was an important case, that came right down from the city’s leadership, and her superiors had chosen to give it to her. They’d trusted her with it. She’d rarely felt so lucky.

The city leaders who had passed the case on to the police department were concerned with sourcing the drug. They wanted to know where it was coming from; who was making it, if it was being made within city borders, or who was funneling it in, if it was coming from somewhere outside. They wanted the source, because they wanted that source to be targeted and cut off before more of the drug could spread throughout the city. So far it had only popped up in one or two places; but the city leaders were concerned that if it really got out, it would be impossible to control.

This was why Rebecca was here—she’d come tonight to this place because she had it on good intel that the source of the drug was inside this building. She was going to go in, and get proof that it was, and crack the case.

She was already feeling a little proud of herself for this; she hadn’t had the assignment that long, even, but she’d made serious headway in the time she’d been working on it. She may have loved her job, but sometimes it really seemed like it loved her back. Things just fell into place so easily for her, sometimes; and her love of her work went hand in hand with her skill for it. When she went into the department with all the answers tomorrow morning, she’d be lauded for it. And she’d deserve it.

But for now, she was waiting just outside the building. She wasn’t going in alone tonight. Rebecca had a contact—name of Samantha—who was going undercover with her.

Rebecca had cultivated the relationship with Samantha a few weeks before. Samantha tended to run in some of the shady circles that these makers/importers of Euphoria did, but Samantha had come forward because she’d said the things she was hearing about Euphoria freaked her out, and she wanted to do what she could to stop the drug making its way throughout the city.

Since then, Samantha had been tapping contacts who were equally shady, trying to get information and she had been reporting back to Rebecca like clockwork.

Finally, just a few days ago, Samantha had hit the jackpot. A location where the drug was supposedly coming from, and a point of entry. The organization that was behind the drug was throwing a party tonight in the exact place that the drug was sourced from; this old abandoned asylum on the outskirts of the city. Samantha had gotten herself two invites to this party, so as soon as Samantha showed up tonight, Rebecca was as good as in.

She just had to wait long enough to meet up with Samantha outside the asylum as they’d agreed.

The ‘Euphoria’ organization—as Rebecca had come to think of them—was a shady one. This was typical of most of the organizations that operated down in the crime world, but they were also relatively low-profile. Rebecca had never crossed paths with them on any of her other cases; and though she didn’t know much about them, they struck her as strange.

Not least because of the location that they’d chosen for tonight’s party. And if it turned out that Samantha’s tip was true, and they also made the drug here, then Rebecca thought they were even weirder for that. Who would choose an abandoned asylum as the hub for their drug manufacturing? And even if they did, who would decide they wanted to party there too?

None of the other crime organizations in the city, that was for sure. Only this strange one she’d never heard of—and still didn’t know the proper name of.

Rebecca reminded herself that that was going to change tonight. She just needed to wait for Samantha to show up.

She had come dressed the part for tonight’s undercover work, anyway. She’d be ready when it was time to go in.

According to Samantha, the party in the asylum that they were about to attend was a themed costume party, and that theme was “latex.”

The two of them had coordinated their costumes ahead of time to match this theme. Rebecca had come dressed as the Cheshire cat in a sleek latex catsuit, and Samantha was supposed to dress up as some kind of latex version of the White Rabbit.

Rebecca looked up at the asylum before her and felt that internal thrill again. She was excited to get in and trace the drug back to its source. She wasn’t even a little bit nervous about the inherent dangers of going undercover. She never was, never had been any of the times she’d gone undercover before, either.

She truly loved every part of her job, and especially this one—and she couldn’t wait to get in and get started.

She was startled by the feeling of a hand touching down on her arm. When Rebecca turned in the direction of this touch, she recognized Samantha, though her outfit was a little different than she’d been expecting.

Samantha was wearing a mask that covered only the top half of her face, pink in color to match the insides of the two curving bunny ears she wore as part of her headband.

Much like her mask, the top half of her body was more-or-less covered by a revealing white latex bustier, and a pair of white latex gloves that came halfway up Samantha’s upper arms, but her lower half was almost entirely bare, apart from a pink latex bikini bottom.

Rebecca looked back down at herself. In comparison to Samantha’s revealing outfit, hers was much more tame. Though it was still revealing, in its way. The latex still hugged closed to her body, practically skintight. But unlike Samantha, none of her skin was visible.

The latex of her catsuit covered Rebecca’s body entirely, right up to collar around her neck. Her catsuit was done in thick purple and lighter purple stripes, and she wore a mask, too—but unlike Samantha’s, which only covered her eyes—Rebecca’s also covered her nose, so that only her mouth and lower face was visible. And she’d known she’d never be able to smile as wide as the Cheshire cat could smile, so she had gone one step further, and painted a wider mouth on with makeup, covering her own.

“Nice costume,” Samantha noted. “Very latex-y.”

“I’d say the same to you, but you’ve got an equal skin-to-latex ratio going,” Rebecca returned.

“Sometimes you need to make a bold statement to convince others that you belong,” Samantha added with a shrug. “Are you ready to go in?”

Rebecca had been ready since before she’d put her costume on that night. “Let’s go.”

The two approached the asylum door, and when they stepped inside, they found a woman dressed in latex there, standing just beyond it, clearly guarding the entrance to the party.

“Invitation?” She asked, giving them both a sharp look.

Samantha offered it to her. For a long moment, the woman looked it over, and Rebecca stood waiting impatiently. She trusted Samantha, so she wasn’t worried; she knew the invitation would be the real deal. She just wanted the women to hurry up and realize it.

Then, at the end of that moment, the woman passed the invitation back to Samantha. “Enjoy the party,” she said, and gestured for them to continue past her into the asylum’s halls.

Once they’d gotten a little further in, the two of them began speaking in low voices, about general small talk things, in case there was anyone around to hear. There was no one else immediately nearby in the hall around them—or at least, no one visible—but both of them were very aware that they were now in enemy territory.

Samantha had her arm hooked through Rebecca’s to create an image of familiarity and intimacy for anyone who might appear in the hall, or that they might come across. But the tightness of her grip told Rebecca that it was partly for her own comfort, too. It was helping her.

It wasn’t doing anything for Rebecca, though. She didn’t need it. She was being cautious, because that was what good detectives did, but unlike Samantha, she wasn’t afraid. She was here, inside the organization’s party, and somewhere inside this building, she would find Euphoria, and more importantly, she would find its source.

“I think we should split up,” Rebecca murmured to Samantha. “We’ll cover more ground that way. We’ve got to make a complete search, and we can do it in half the time if we separate.”

“You’re right,” Samantha said, with a part-sigh behind her words. “Look, there’s a corner that turns onto a hallway just up ahead. Why don’t we split there?”

“Good idea,” Rebecca agreed.

As they approached said corner, Samantha withdrew her arm. “I’ll turn and go off this way, and you can continue on straight. Best of luck to you, Rebecca.”

She spoke while keeping her eyes ahead on the approaching passage that awaited her.

“Good luck to you, Samantha,” Rebecca returned. Samantha did not acknowledge this, because the corner had come upon them. Samantha passed around it to go off down the offshoot hallway.

Rebecca continued walking past it, down the same extending hallway that she and Samantha had followed from the building’s entrance. She could only see a short way ahead, though. At a point just several feet forward, the hallway curved and turned inward, leading deeper into the building instead of continuing its run along behind the front-facing exterior wall.

Rebecca quickened her pace, eager to get there, and followed the curving hallway when it branched away from the building’s exterior to go deeper inside.

When Rebecca had gotten further along the hallway she saw, for the first time, an open door. This was immediately notable to her. There had been some doors in the earlier section of the hallway, on the wall across from the exterior wall that held its series of barred windows. But those doors had all been closed, and visibly locked. This was the first one that was not.

Rebecca approached the door carefully, and looked in through the doorway.

It was clearly a lab in there—and it was a staffed lab. There were several women in there, all wearing strange latex uniforms.

The uniforms looked like nurse’s outfits, but they were made of black latex material, which was lined and accented in red latex. It was a strange look: the design of each outfit had clearly been made for cotton material, and Rebecca had seen many cotton variants of this design in her life. To see a cotton design used for latex material was jarring; the latex did not sit on hang in the way cotton would have done, making the entire ensemble completely bizarre.

Rebecca’s eyes narrowed as she tried to watch the women more carefully.

One of these latex nurses was standing at a silver machine, which extended up and attached to the wall. There were two vents, one on either wall of the lab, and the machine extended up into a clear tube that ran between them and covered them both.

There was a split down the center of the column that ran up to that connection tube, also visible because it was clear. Rebecca didn’t quite understand why there was a divide in the column, but she had more important details to focus on. And more important questions to worry about.

One of the nurses was standing at the machine’s control panel, but she wasn’t actively using said panel. She had bent forward, and was doing something beneath it.

Rebecca tilted her head to the side slightly to try and get a better view, but then the nurse shifted and gave her the view she’d been looking for herself.

That nurse was opening up a compartment beneath the machine’s interface, and removing a cylindrical thing from under there.

At the same time, another one of the nurses was approaching, holding a cylinder that looked like it was the same size as the one the first nurse was taking out. But the two were different—there was something about the one that the first nurse was handling it that looked hollow. And something about the one in the arms of the second nurse that looked full.

Rebecca took the time to again really focus on the images being offered to her—it wasn’t that either cylinder was heavy, or light. They seemed to way an equal weight, judging by the way the nurses were holding them. But both cylinders were clear—and the one that was coming out of the machine was visibly empty, and the one the second nurse was bringing was… not. It was hard to tell what was in there, but Rebecca thought that it looked… white.

The first nurse got the empty cylinder out of the machine just in time for the arrival of the second nurse. The two exchanged cylinders, and as the first started the process of sliding the new cylinder into the machine, the second flipped the empty cylinder over, carrying it away either to be discarded or reused—and Rebecca saw that there was something written on the other side in black letters on the glass.

“Euphoria.”

She almost let out an involuntary gasp—but she covered her mouth just in time, and kept it in. They had so far failed to notice her, and Rebecca wanted to keep it that way.

But she was even more excited now than before. She’d found the lab where they manufactured it—this was the source, it had to be.

Though she didn’t understand what they were doing with it now. And what form was it in? Was that white in the cylinder a liquid? Or was it a powder?

The first nurse at last got the full cylinder to slot into the machine, and she closed the compartment behind it. She rose from her half-bent position to stand at the control panel again, and started typing into the machine’s interface.

There was a whirring sound, and then it looked like something at the base of the clear column was opening up; and then a white gas rose through the column.

It was at this point that Rebecca realized why there was a divide in the center of the column. That divide split the column, and continued the split right up to the upper tube. Things on the left side of the column’s divide went down the left side of tube, and things on the right side of it went down the right side of it.

The machine effectively split the gas in half, and funneled it up into the upper tube, so that half of it was directed down one end of the tube, and half was directed down the other. And when the gas reached either end of the tube, it slipped in through the open air vent waiting there.

Rebecca frowned. This meant something. But her mind seemed to be working a little more slowly than usual, suddenly…

They were… pumping the drug into the air circulation system, through those vents… but they had taken an empty cylinder of gas out from the machine and replaced it with a new one…

She shook her head, to force her mind to focus, and she briefly grasped a moment of clarity.

This meant they had been pumping the drug through the building the whole time. The contents of the previous cylinder had long since spread into the deeper inner workings of the building’s circulation system, and so had spread all through the asylum. This gas that was being sent in now was only coming up behind what had already been sent out ahead, to keep the supply of the drug constant…

Which meant Rebecca had been breathing in Euphoria the whole time.

She’d had no warning about the effects—she hadn’t even known the drug was in gas form until a second ago, but she was feeling it now. She needed to get back out of the building—that was the imperative now. It was the only way to save the case.

It was the only way to save herself.

She had to go… all the way… down that long, long hallway… and she’d have no choice but to leave Samantha behind, because there was no hope of staying coherent long enough to find her. Honestly, there was probably no hope of staying coherent long enough to get back to the entrance.

And even if she did, what would be the point? The woman guarding the door would see that she was trying to fight the effects of the drug, and realize that she was an interloper. In trying to escape, she would blow her own cover.

And by the time she got there, she’d be too weak to fight her way out. There was no way the woman would let her through without a fight, once she realized Rebecca was an intruder, and Rebecca would be too weak to even have that fight… and that was only if she could get back there. It was a long way to the entrance from here, and she’d have to breathe Euphoria in with every step… It was all… hopeless… it was all… pointless…

Rebecca shook her head again. That was the drug starting to catch up to her. This was good—if she could make it out (if… she probably couldn’t… it would be easier just to stay right here, leaning against the wall…) —if she could make it out, she thought again, with more determination.

If she could, then she could give a full report on the effects of the drug. Not to mention the sourcing of it, which had been her mission in the first place, and which she’d now seen with her own eyes. But her team, her department wouldn’t have to be working blind anymore; they’d truly know what they were dealing with from now on. She only had to make it back, so she could tell them.

In the meantime, she should catalogue the drug’s effects internally, as clearly as she could, so that her report would be completely accurate when she finally made it out of here. So far it seemed that Euphoria encouraged passivity, and extreme lethargy… that was making it hard right now for Rebecca to push off the wall, and start the walk back towards the entrance. She just had… to go… She tried to force her body to comply.

But it would be so much easier just to stay here, leaning against the wall—it was so comfortable that Rebecca just wanted sink down the wall until she was sitting on the floor. Then she could just sit there, slumped back and comfortable… and she could just breathe in the Euphoria that was all through the air around her. It blended so well with it, thanks to the circulation system, that it wasn’t even visible anymore…

It was getting harder to fight back out of the passive thoughts the longer she stood here, but the more she tried to fight and make her body move, the less of a response she got. Her body just wasn’t listening to her—it was already hooked on the drug, even after such a short time. No wonder everyone said that it was dangerous.

Her body was getting exactly what it craved, as she stood there breathing the stuff, and it wanted to keep getting it. There was nothing Rebecca could do to convince it to give up its fix.

Why should she even bother, really… didn’t this just… feel… better…?

While Rebecca had been internally struggling with combatting the effects of the drug, she had stopped paying attention to what was happening in the lab in front of her.

She only realized then that she should have been, because she was pulled back from her thoughts by the very unsettling realization that the latex nurses had left their stations, and were now standing around her on all sides.

Rebecca tried to speak up, and tell them to get away. She tried to move, push past them and run, but she was as incapable of directing her body as ever. She only leaned in place where she was, passive as the Euphoria had made her.

When the nurses took hold of her body, and guided her forward from the wall, she followed—when they led her into the lab, she followed. She was barely even walking; it was more like she was hanging, being dragged or carried.

Once past the doorway, Rebecca saw there was more than just a machine in the room. At the room’s opposite end, there was a white chair, and a woman standing beside it—Samantha!

Rebecca stared, trying to make sense of the image… but it was so hard to think.

The nurses carried her the rest of the way to the chair, and guided her down to sit in it. They arranged her arms along the chair’s armrests, and strapped them there. They lined her legs up with the chairs base, and strapped them into place too, and then guided another strap around her torso.

It seemed a little like overkill to Rebecca, as she was already sagging limply into the chair, but she was in no position to argue.

Samantha had stepped around from the back of the chair, to lean down closer to her, and watch.

Rebecca was still frowning at her. If Samantha was here… it meant the drugs had gotten to her… but she didn’t look the way Rebecca knew she herself was looking. Samantha wasn’t limp and passive, like someone who’d been caught off-guard by the drug for the first time. She was collected, and aware—the way the woman at the entrance had been, or the other nurses who were in the room with them… which meant…

“They got me a week ago,” Samantha explained; she was smiling about it. “They gave me so much of their delicious drug, and they brainwashed me until I became my truer self—Sammy.”

Samantha—or Sammy, as she now claimed—spoke the words with appreciation, as if she were savoring each one. Reliving the memory, and enjoying it.

“I was never as happy as Samantha as I am now that I’m Sammy,” Sammy went on. “We’ll show you your true self, too. Deep down, there’s been a Becky waiting inside you, and we’ll bring her out of you. I’m looking forward to meeting her.”

The nurses had finished strapping Rebecca to the chair, and they had since wheeled a strange looking contraption over to her. It was about the height of Rebecca when she was sitting down, and there was a mask perched on a hook that connect down to a clear cylinder of white gas.

“Concentrated Euphoria,” Sammy explained, tapping the cylinder on its side. “You’ll breathe it in until it’s all inside you, and you’ll become Becky.”

Rebecca managed a feeble shake of her head. She gave Sammy the most direct look that she was capable of. “I know you’re still in there, Samantha. And I’m going to resist this drug—and when they let me out of this chair, I’m going to get us back out of here, and I’ll make sure you get deprogrammed, and become Samantha again.”

Samantha grinned wide. “There is no resisting it, silly. You’ll see.”

The nurses lifted the gasmask from its hook, and they positioned it over Rebecca’s mouth and nose. They had to roll up part of her latex mask to get the angle right.

This time, Rebecca tried to turn her head, but found herself once more incapable. The gasmask settled into place, and then one of the nurses flicked a switch on the side of the thing; and Rebecca felt the gas starting to enter into her passageways.

Breathing the concentrated stuff was an entirely different feeling than getting its diffused cousin. Her body had been craving Euphoria; had already become desperate for it, and couldn’t get enough. Now that it was getting such a focused, direct amount of it, the feeling was heaven. Her body was singing in response, and she found herself taking great heaving inhales to get more of it into her even more quickly.

It gave her the passive lethargy again, same as before, but the feeling was a little different this time. She didn’t want anything but to feel this, and breathe as much Euphoria as she could. But there were other people who knew how to direct her, other people who wanted things from her, and could show her how to do them. And the more she breathed the Euphoria, the more that this thought made her feel happy.

It had been comforting to be carried by the nurses, arranged by the nurses. They were competent—they knew what they were doing; and it felt so good to do as she was told that she just wanted to keep doing it. It was too much work to think for herself or make her own decisions. But there were other people who could think for her, now, and it was a comfortable feeling to let them. They knew what they were doing—all Rebecca had to do was obey.

The nurses and Sammy were still standing around Rebecca’s chair, all watching her closely as the Euphoria took effect. Sometimes they were touching her and sometimes they weren’t.

When they were touching her, they touched her with languid strokes that ran over her latex catsuit. When they touched her, there were hands everywhere, caressing her breasts, caressing her arms, caressing her stomach.

When they touched, it was so many hands touching at once, constant stimulation and motion that covered Rebecca like a second layer of clothing over the first.

When they weren’t touching her, Rebecca understood it was to give her a break from the overwhelming distraction of their touch, to be alone with the Euphoria again, and let all her focus go to it and the feelings it was making in her. Rebecca valued those pauses; it was wonderful to be alone and lost inside the drug that was pouring into her; and feel like she was completely fading into it, being transformed by it.

But then the touches would return from their lapsed pause, and be more affecting in contrast to their absence. And sometimes when Rebecca’s attendants stroked her, they gave her words to go along with these touches, too.

They were telling her that it was so much fun to be a Euphoria junkie; they were telling her that Euphoria was bringing her true self out of her—Becky, and that it would be fun to be Becky too. Becky was a slut for her drug, and she always would be—she’d do anything to get it; she’d be a slut for anyone who wanted her, and she would have so much fun doing that. She would have so much fun being Becky. She would always feel this much pleasure, and more.

They were telling her all these things, but with each thing they told her, it was like they were also commanding her to adopt new beliefs. They were guiding her mind as surely as they’d guided her body; guiding it to become this new molded thing that matched their descriptions, that matched what they wanted from her.

They gave these commands power with the underlining touches that they stroked over her; and the gas was multiplying this exponentially further. The room was a haze—her mind was a haze of touches that sensitized her skin as it slid against the latex that encased it; a haze of new beliefs and new thoughts; a haze of passivity and comfort in that passivity. She had that feeling of overarching relief. They knew what she should be—or maybe they knew what she’d been all along, and they knew how to help her become that.

They were asking her, in all the ways they told her about her new life and new identity, asking her to believe them and accept these things as truth. And Rebecca was as pliable as ever—since they asked her, she would give it. They’d guided her there, but she understood now. She was Becky, and she had always been.

She breathed in more of the gas—felt more of the touch—heard more of the word—all things had become singular now. Many hands were touching her, but it resulted in one touch that passed over her entire body. Many mouths were talking to her, but it resulted in one word that came in through her ears and mixed with the drug in her mind.

The touch was pleasure, and the word was obey—and she was Becky, and not Rebecca, and Becky loved to feel pleasure, and Becky would always obey. Everything in the room felt so perfect suddenly. Everything was simple, and everything lined up.

This was topped in the second later, when she felt the hands fall away to be replaced by a new sensation—licking, between her legs. Sammy had kneeled at the chair, and was running her tongue eagerly over Becky’s folds. She’d forgotten until this moment that the catsuit had an open slit at the crotch—and she was very gratefully for that fact right then, as it gave Sammy total access to work Becky with her tongue.

She was really giving Becky a thorough tonguing—and Becky was shuddering in the chair as more of the gas came in on her next inhale; and as more of that same repeating word came into her mind. She needed to obey, obey, obey—and Sammy was giving her pleasure; and so much of it.

And Becky understood that it was time for her to obey, and to give her obedience to Sammy; and the way Sammy was offering hers, by pleasuring her this way. She would only truly seal her fate as Becky if she proved her obedience now—it would lock all her programming in, and make it permanent. She just knew.

Every time Sammy gave the pleasure to her, what she was really doing was asking her to come—telling her to, commanding her to come, even as everything else told her to obey.

Becky obeyed. Becky came, shuddering on Sammy’s tongue, and simultaneously getting the last bursts of gas through her mask. It was the perfect feeling; she had thought she was Becky before, but now, in her orgasmic afterglow, she felt that she was Becky. She felt it in her bones. She had become.

She was Becky. And she’d been waiting dormant, inside Rebecca for a long time. She was the truer Rebecca. Stronger than Rebecca could ever be, because she was strong enough to let others control her, and let others have her. She didn’t have to be in charge of everything the way that Rebecca did. She was better than that—she was able to obey in a way that Rebecca never could. And able to enjoy pleasure and a fun time with it, in a way that Rebecca never could. She was Becky, and she was better.

The hands were undoing the restraints that had held her in place—there was no more gas coming in through the gasmask. Before Becky had fully understood her place, she would have been sad about this. But now she understood there would always be more Euphoria—there was Euphoria laced all through the air in the room right now, though it wasn’t quite as powerful of a dose as the stuff she had been getting direct.

But it was there, and it would always be enough, keeping her drugged as a baseline state, and there’d be many, many opportunities for Becky to take the drug more directly again.

The gasmask came off of her, and Becky found herself strong enough to stand. The other nurses stepped away, but Sammy stayed were she was, and Becky understood that it was time for her to obey again. The two of them could go together, and obey side by side. It was time for them to go and join the party that was going on deeper inside the asylum. And there would be more Euphoria for them there, and more pleasure too.

Standing side by side, Becky pulled her latex costume mask back down to cover her nose—fixing it after it had been moved out of place to accommodate the gasmask. And Sammy, who had taken her mask off all together, so that she could properly get her face in between Becky’s legs, put hers back on to.

They linked arms as they had done before, and walked from the lab together to go find the party.

Behind them, as they went, they heard the nurse’s voices chorusing together in celebration: they had converted another resistant into a Euphoria-slave. They had obeyed perfectly, just as they were meant to do, and there was nothing better than the feeling of realizing that this was true.

Becky smiled to herself as she and Sammy left the lab behind them.

She knew exactly how they felt.