The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Millie found her life to be a very stressful thing. After living so long— and it felt long to her, even though it had only been nineteen years of a life to date— after living so long, she sometimes wondered if she should have gotten better at dealing with stress.

Some of it wasn’t her fault— she had lived with her mother her whole life so far, after all. And her mother was Sasha Jesper— and Sasha Jesper was a high-strung person. She took everything so seriously and was so obsessed with ensuring perfect outcomes that being around her simply created stress out of nothing.

But Millie had lived around her mother all this time— if her going away to college was left out of things— she knew what it meant to be around her mother, and still she never seemed able to compensate for the commensurate stress which intruded.

It was worse when Millie was at home— she had never fully explained this to her mother when she’d gotten her college acceptance letter, but a big draw to moving on campus and staying in a dorm had been the idea of getting out of her mother’s house.

Really, Millie did love her mother. She knew other women her age with similar mothers sometimes didn’t love their mothers— sometimes hated them. But for all the difficulty Sasha had caused throughout Millie’s life, Millie wasn’t one of those motherhating women. She appreciated her mother for everything her mother had done— she knew Sasha had made sacrifices. She was forty-three years old now, an established and highly successful businesswoman, but she hadn’t always been— to start, she’d worked much less prestigious jobs. But she’d worked her way up, while caring for her daughter. The sacrificing had been done in the personal sphere.

She’d given everything to her career, and to her daughter— and for years, she had left little for herself. And Millie did understand that— and she did appreciate that. But it was definitely better for her to live separately from her mother. She had in some ways found her life in the dorm to be a lot more peaceful than her life before.

In some ways only. Because even without the feeling of her mother being nearby, scrutinizing everything she did, Millie still seemed incredibly prone to stress. Her guess was that growing up and living in a high-stress and high-strung environment kept affecting her even after she was out of that environment. So Millie still wasn’t dealing with the pressures of life very well— and though she knew that maybe she had a reason for that, she still frequently found herself feeling frustrated at this personal struggling of hers.

It was true that, on college holidays and breaks, when Millie went home to stay with her mother— because she did still love her— she found her stress levels higher even than at school. In class, facing assignments and everything similar, Millie had a disproportionate amount of stress for the demands laid on her. The past, the environment of her upbringing, reached out of her history and touched her present; but her stress was most acute when she was actually in her old home, under her mother’s observation and judgement again.

Millie knew Sasha didn’t do it to be cruel. She was simply a supremely practical woman, which got into how she mothered— at work, in all spaces of her life, Sasha Jesper tolerated no nonsense— tolerated no foolishness either, no idiocy, no mistakes. So she always had something to say about everything Millie did and how she did it.

Even in the way Millie made a sandwich— things with such lowstakes as that. If Sasha saw any waste, any mistakes, she would interject in that sharp tone of voice she used and tell Millie how she could be doing it better— should be doing it better, and Millie, understanding the only way to escape the commentary was to acquiesce, would change how she was completing her task.

She really loved that difference in dormlife— that she could do her tasks how she wanted, even if her process was less efficient than another. At dorm, she valued her freedom. But Millie understood the price of being around her mother for longer than a brief visit meant going along with what her mother wanted her to do. And since she understood this, she could always prepare herself mentally before her longer stays at home. Despite the cost, she could handle it.

But given that all of this was true, maybe it made Millie’s latest decision a little strange. She’d finished her first year of college— and it was summer break for her. Unlike a lot of other students she’d known, she had neither sought an internship, nor a summer job— nor had she tried for any kind of study abroad opportunity.

No, she had opted to spend every day of her summer vacation with her mother once again— observed, critiqued, instructed— unlike in her childhood though, this time she had a buffer. And for once, she was not just going to be sitting around her childhood home with her mother. Sasha Jesper had gotten it in her head that she wanted a wilderness escape— so she’d booked a substantial time off of work, planned a trip to the family cabin, and that was why Millie was currently sat in a car.

Riding in the backseat with her buffer: Hannah. And Millie’s mother, Sasha, in the front, behind the steering wheel, now and again looking back at Hannah with suspicious glances.

Hannah was unfazed by this— she’d been around Sasha before— and Millie appreciated this in her friend. Her mother’s glances of judgement, even when they were not directed at her, always set her on edge. But this was one of the reasons Millie so liked having Hannah for a friend— she was so serene about everything. And when Millie had invited her to come on this summer cabin trip, she’d just smiled patiently and agreed.

Millie could have sat in the front, but Hannah was her friend, and she liked being around her— Hannah was a bit of a calming influence for her. For now, oblivious to Sasha’s glances, she was scrolling happily on her phone, oblivious also to Millie’s looking.

But Sasha’s eyes had lingered on Hannah too long now. Millie had looked back to her mother for a moment— But Sasha wasn’t looking ahead of them at the road she was driving down in the fancy car her business position afforded her. She was staring at Hannah, who wasn’t seeing her stare— still staring— still staring—

Millie felt her nerves tensing just as—

“So, Hannah,” Sasha said, and called Hannah’s eyes to look at her. “How have you been finding the twentieth year of your life?”

Millie rolled her eyes. Her mother, the slippery businesswoman. She was so good at veiling what she wanted and what she thought, for negotiation purposes. But it also meant she asked stupid things like that— and made it impossible to guess what information she actually wanted to obtain.

“I’ve been enjoying it just fine, Mrs. Jesper,” Hannah said, with an easy smile back.

“How have you been enjoying the forty-third year of yours?”

The easy smile seemed more like a strategic one now. Yes, Hannah, could keep her cool— but she could also give back to anyone what they gave to her.

And this had clearly affronted Sasha. Yes— Millie had just known from the focused way she’d looked at Hannah that she was going to prod her for conversation. She was still looking with that sustaining stare— that meant she was going to keep it up, setting her affront aside in search of whatever reward she wanted to get from this.

“Well, all I meant is that— a twenty-year-old is an adult— it’s the time for one to start taking their life seriously. Have you made any steps in this direction?”

Millie shook her head to herself. This was a common point of contention between Sasha and Hannah.

But Hannah ignored the obvious baiting. “I’m very happy with my life right now, Mrs. Jesper.” And Hannah’s confidence was obvious in the sound of her voice. “I mean, I just finished the second year of my college degree. Maybe you didn’t know this, Mrs. Jesper, but physics degrees are actually pretty challenging— being a physics major is actually a lot of work! But I’ve managed it so far— and I’ve also managed to have some fun along the way.”

Millie’s eyes flicked back to her mother to see how she would deal with this parry returned— Sasha had given Hannah condescension and Hannah had given it back to her twofold. Millie almost had to laugh behind the cover of her hand— but her mother’s face was red— she was clearly angered.

“You’ve managed to rebel against every authority figure you could confront along the way, is what you meant,” Sasha snapped. “Vandalism, graffiti— throwing things through windows of college personnel either on campus or off! Just because you haven’t gotten caught yet— and I’m sure there’s more trouble than that which you have planned out!”

Hannah smiled a serene smile again. She said nothing to confirm or refute— though it was true that she had done those things, sometimes with Millie standing three feet away from her— in private Hannah and Millie had more than once argued— Hannah asking why Millie had to share everything that happened in her life with her mother— especially since that often gave Sasha attack fuel for later— and Millie insisting that she loved her mother, and when they had their weekly phonecall, she was going to share her life. Hannah still brought Millie along to her acts of rebellion and had Millie witness her— and she still told her everything. And then she sat in Sasha’s company and smiled unbotheredly at her when Sasha threw such things back in Hannah’s face.

Millie loved Hannah’s friendship even a little more in this moment— Hannah knew how contentious her own relation to Millie’s mother was, and also knew how much time Millie spent with her mother— and still willingly subjected herself to such contention, for Millie’s sake.

“You still haven’t told me how your life is, Mrs. Jesper!” Hannah said around smiling teeth. “How are your hobbies? Or can you call it a hobby when all it entails is reading romance novels upon end, day after day, for hours? And that’s your only one! It must surely give you time to perfect it.”

Sasha’s face had turned red.

“No, wait, I’m sorry,” Hannah amended. “I forgot, you also drink. How’s that hobby? How many a day are you up to?”

Very few people could reduce Sasha to speechlessness. It was all that business negotiation she did, she could go head to head with everyone. But she was clearly flustered for a moment— shocked that Hannah had spoken to her this way. Really she shouldn’t have been. This was Hannah’s rebellion, too, and Sasha had just been listing other instances of it a moment ago.

Millie wasn’t sure how her mother was managing to keep them driving down the rural, wooded highway— she was looking so often at Hannah, and now her looks were ones of shock— but somehow they were still driving on— and Sasha seemed to collect herself.

“And you’ve never had a drink in your life, I’m sure. No, I’m certain that Millie was just seeing wrong all those times you went to parties and drank to drunkenness. That’s your habit, isn’t it? Party-going? And it’s your only hobby, apart from the troublemaking.”

“I’m so sorry we don’t know each other a little better, Mrs. Jesper,” Hannah smiled back. “You left out my other hobby. Probably because you didn’t have knowledge of it! I also enjoy going to the arcade. I spend a lot of time there— and I go to lots of different ones. But that’s okay, you didn’t know I did that!”

Sasha looked even more enraged, if that was possible. “Well, why don’t you throw back in my face that I also play tennis with my daughter! I do a lot of that!”

Hannah’s cruelly friendly affect dropped. “I’d never throw anything about Millie back in your face,” she said, seriously— this was the first thing that had seemed an offense to her. “Millie is my bestfriend. Why would I speak of her like she was something shameful?”

But Hannah seemed a little keen to get Sasha back for this.

“Why don’t you throw this back in my face? Whenever I do anything, Millie is the one who’s beside me, because she’s my favorite person to hang out with and I always like to have her around!”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Sasha grumbled, similarly to how Hannah had done it before. And Millie knew her mother— Sasha wouldn’t go on defensively or apologize. This was as much of a concession as she was going to make. But maybe she would stop her line of attack— maybe she would fall silent, and let the remainder of this carride be peaceful.

Millie was usually the point of impasse— neither woman could stand each other, but they both loved Millie, so if conversation (or, more accurately, argument) came around to Millie, they both usually had to back down. And sometimes, as a conversation topic, Millie was enough.

But sometimes Millie had to be the impasse by interjecting and stopping the conflict. Sometimes she had to insert herself, speak to both of them, smooth things over. She always watched for the moment when she might need to step in— so far, it hadn’t been necessary. She’d come up as a topic— maybe that would be enough.

But Sasha still seemed in the mood to grumble— not quite ready to let things go. “At least your partygoing explains the way you dress, Hannah. I guess your style is part of your hobby too. You only want to wear things that show how curvy your body is— you want everyone to notice how large your breasts are, and how large your ass is! You’ve got to be as indecent as possible if you want to keep up with everyone else at those parties with you.”

Hannah kept a level gaze with Sasha. But she didn’t speak.

“And I guess your funloving recklessness is why you wear your hair like that. In those two ponytails. You want it held back in case you get into trouble and need full range of motion. Although, sweetie, I’m sorry no one’s ever told you, but all that dark black hair like that— ponytails just don’t really suit it. And especially not dark black hair that comes down past your shoulders! It looks much too severe.”

“You’re quite thorough in your critiques, Mrs. Jesper,” Hannah said— not playing along with Sasha’s pretense of simply being a concerned and caring older adult. Calling the criticism out for what it was. “Why don’t you say something about my height as well? Is there something wrong with being five six? Anything you can think of at all? Or, surely it’s inferior to being five eight, like you are. Maybe you can think of something to say about that.”

But Sasha seemed chastened, so Hannah went on talking. In Millie’s mind this was just, given everything that her mother had just said to the other woman, but she was still monitoring closely. This was teetering on the edge of being a conflict she’d have to interject herself into.

“How about you?” Hannah said. “You had a lot to say about my hair, and my recklessness? But what about your hair? What about the fact that you live the life of a much older woman who’s seen the best years of her life go by? Staying in, only reading romance novels— drinking wine— your daughter your only tennis partner. That’s the life of a woman in her seventies, not her forties— and you have the hairstyle to match it. You always wear that chestnut hair of yours up in a bun. It makes you look like you are a nun!”

Sasha was staring hard at Hannah now. But she hadn’t broken her silence again. Maybe Hannah’s comment about the mockability of her height had given Millie’s mother perspective— helped her to see how cruel she was being. Millie could hope. Maybe now Sasha felt she deserved Hannah’s returned vitriol, and she would make herself sit through and listen to it.

Millie’s eyes went back to Hannah again, eyes flipping from one side of the battle to the other depending on who was speaking. “And the way you dress— it’s not much better. You wear an older woman’s hairstyle— you wear an older woman’s clothes! So androgynous and so proper— so loose, your blouses and your dress pants— no one would even know what kind of body you have under there! You’ve got slight, classy curves— and your breasts are a good, average size— so is your ass. But no one would ever know, because you hide your entire body away!”

Neither Hannah or Sasha were discussing why Hannah knew the look of Sasha’s body. The real reason was that Hannah had more than once come to watch a tennis match between Sasha and Millie. And when Sasha played tennis, she dressed in tennisshorts, tennisshirts. Tennisvisors. And the tennisshorts and tennisshirts were tight— so her body was easily discernible in them.

All of these attacks were getting pretty personal, though. And Hannah still didn’t seem quite done.

She shook her head. “Really, Mrs. Jesper. With shoulderlength hair like yours, you should know to wear it down. No one can she how lush it is all pinned up the way you keep it. Just like no one can see how nice your body is, all bundled up in blouses and dresssuits the way you dress it. Have you ever actually had a day of fun even once in your life?”

That was enough now. Millie wouldn’t let this fighting go on.

“I’m just so glad we’re all taking this trip together.” Even a blatant subject change like that would do the trick— it usually did. And if she could get the attention on herself, the topic onto herself, it would force both Hannah and Sasha to recognize their commonground. And that usually defused them. If this went much further uninterceded then it might even go to the point of violence.

“And I’m so glad I have two people I love so much in my life,” Millie was still speaking— Sasha and Hannah were still sharing a smoldering look— pure fire and hatred. Millie cleared her throat and tried speaking louder. “I mean, I have a mother who is so kind she’ll pay for me and my bestfriend to come on vacation with her. And I have a bestfriend who loves me so much that she actually will come along! An outgoing bestfriend, who knows so many other people and could go along on so many other vacations. But my bestfriend picked me— as a bestfriend, and to go on vacation with! I’m so lucky!”

It was usually good to slip some devious compliments into the mix too— to make them both feel unexpectedly flattered, to get them feeling positively at least a bit.

Millie looked between the two other women in the car hopefully. The hard edges in the way each of them sat were starting to soften out. They both looked just on the point of relenting.

But Millie wanted to push them just a little bit more.

“What’s wrong, you guys? You don’t want to hear about how lucky I feel? I’m making everyone uncomfortable by talking about this now?”

By playing dumb, by pretending she was only filled with happiness, it would force them both either to admit that they were fighting or to give up the conflict and go along with her, playing into happiness.

Pretending everything was nice. Millie had a lot of practice dealing with their friction— she had well-established methods.

“We’re not uncomfortable, Millie,” Sasha said, begrudgingly.

“And you’d never be the cause of any uncomfortableness,” Hannah reassured Millie with a tense smile. “You’d never be the root of any problem.”

Millie smiled, feeling cunning. She felt these concessions to her were both victories.

“Good, I’m glad,” she said. She didn’t trust either of them to maintain the fragile peace she’d worked so hard to re-establish. She needed to keep filling the silence inside the car for at least a while longer. “Because everything in my life is going so well for me now.

“I’ve got the mother I have, and the bestfriend that I have. And I’m in the nineteenth year of my life, so I’m an adult— and I just finished my first year at a liberal arts college that I love. Sure, I still haven’t declared my major. But I really enjoyed every class that I took!”

Both Sasha and Hannah were still smiling tensely— and nodding along to what Millie was saying. They both knew her so well that nothing she was saying was a revelation to them. But she had limited resources to draw on when it came to speaking of herself. And she needed to speak of herself right now to keep the silence at a distance. And the topic of herself was the first one that came to mind. The easiest one to express, even if it meant repeating known knowledge.

“I really am glad you’re my bestfriend, Hannah,” Millie went on. Slightly veering off onto a different topic, but for good reason. If Millie simply started arguing to Sasha, enumerating all of Hannah’s good qualities, it wouldn’t go over well. Sasha would deliberately choose not to hear it. But if Millie listed these good qualities indirectly, Sasha might pick them up— they might slip in past Sasha’s defenses, and influence her slightly into thinking well of Hannah.

At least, that was what Millie always hoped when she tried things like this. She’d yet to see much payoff from it so far, though.

“I’m glad you’re my bestfriend too, Millie,” Hannah said with a half-smile. It looked more genuine than the tense full one she’d been giving before.

“No, I mean it!” Millie stressed. “I mean, I’m so shy. I’m most comfortable keeping to myself and staying out of things. You’re like my perfect opposite! You’re so bold— you like to throw yourself right into the middle of things, you like to do everything. And having you as a bestfriend means you bring me along to everything you do. You open up the world to me, and you open me up for the world in return! That’s just really special, and if I’d had any other bestfriend than you, I never would have gotten to go on so many adventures.”

Sasha huffed. Her eyes were back on the road, and staying there, but Millie knew what that huff meant. It meant that Sasha was briefly seeing the value in Hannah— seeing what she brought to her daughter’s life, seeing the positives she brought to it. Sasha was seeing the good in Hannah, is what that huff meant. She was seeing the good. And resenting it.

Another victory, Millie thought.

“Well I’m glad you feel that way, Mills,” Hannah said. “I really value your friendship too, like I already said.”

Millie nodded happily to herself. “So my life’s going pretty great right now,” she said, to the car at large. “I’ve got all the things I already said— and I’ve got my hobbies! I brought some more philosophy books with me in my luggage so I can read plenty of those books I love during this whole trip— and I’m with my two favorite people, and I can spend lots of time helping them to appreciate each other the way I appreciate them!”

That was Millie’s nice way of firing a warning shot— letting it be known that she’d be doing plenty more of this smoothing over during the entire trip, that she’d be stopping conflicts like these and rerouting them.

But she wanted to make her point clear.

“You both had a lot to say in criticism about each other’s appearances. But do either of you have any criticism like that for me?”

Now both Sasha and Hannah were looking at her in concern.

“Of course not,” Sasha said.

“I never would,” Hannah insisted.

Millie knew she was laying it on thick: saying, unspokenly, if you wouldn’t criticize me, then why criticize each other? She wanted to harp on this for some minutes.

“But you both had so much to say about each other’s appearances!” Millie knew she was as good as playing dumb right now. She didn’t feel any guilt about her outright manipulation, not with the way Sasha and Hannah went at each other’s throats. “Don’t you have anything to say about mine?”

“Contrary to what Hannah seems to believe,” Millie’s mother spoke, shooting Hannah a disdainful look. “I’d never mock someone for an immutable characteristic like their height. So I’ve got nothing to say about you being five two. It’s a height people have. It’s a height you have. There’s nothing there I’d want to criticize.”

This was in character for Sasha actually, Millie thought. Sasha was uninterested in criticizing people for things beyond their control. Where she really liked to lay in was those things that people could control— decisions they made, and actions they took. That was her area.

“Well, what about my hobbies?” Millie pressed on. “You both had a lot to say about each other’s. Anyone want to get in a joke at my expense? I already confessed to bringing my philosophy books with me. Any humor there? Or what about the fact that I’m my mom’s tennis partner?”

She sought Hannah’s eyes with hers. Hannah was a bit evasive at first, but then let her eyes be met.

“Or what about the fact that I spend all my time with this bestfriend?” This time Millie was meeting her mother’s eyes in rearview mirror. Saying to both of them— this person you both choose to fight, this person you both choose to resent— I love them— I love the person with whom you have enmity, and still love you. And we’re all here together.

This message had worked, because neither woman said anything for a passing moment.

“And what about my hair?” Millie insisted. “You both hate each other’s hairstyles. Isn’t mine as bad as you say each other’s is?”

“Millie,” Hannah said, with care. “Of course your hair isn’t bad. I tell you all the time when you’re insecure about it. Your hair is great! It’s so wavy— and very few blondes are honey blonde, but you are.”

“You do take good care of it,” Sasha admitted. This was high praise from her— in younger years Millie had received no shortage of criticism and instruction on the keeping of her own hair. But apparently she kept it well enough now that even her mother could agree she did. She hadn’t decided to belabor this point in order to get compliments, or to fish praise out of her stingy mother— but it was a nice side benefit, Millie wasn’t going to lie.

“Oh, mom,” Millie deflected.

“No, Millie,” Sasha insisted as the car zoomed on. “Very few women with hair as long as yours have hair that is presentable. Your hair hangs down to the very middle of your back, and yet it’s never tangled or lank. You can actually wear your hair down, and have it look good when you do. And you can do that because you do proper maintenance for it— that’s completely a credit to you.”

“What about my clothes?” Millie looked back to Hannah. “Or the way they fit my body? Do you think I dress like a seventy-year-old woman?”

“I don’t,” Hannah said, shaking her head. “You’ve got your mother’s body type— your breasts are averagely sized, and your ass would be, but it’s a little bigger than your mother’s. But you dress right for you body— for your life— for your life stage. Maybe you spend too much time with me, because you dress like you have fun doing it. You dress like your life is one long enjoyment of casual fun— like I do. I’ve always liked the way you dress. Of course there’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Well you guys both know how to speak kindly and give compliments,” Millie said, settling the argument as far as she was concerned. “Maybe you should see, during this vacation, if you can figure out how to do this exact thing again, but for each other.”

Both the other passengers in the car had grasped Millie’s very heavy-handed point— and both of them looked a little grumbling and bitter about it. But they were both keeping quiet. The fighting had stopped.

Millie thought she deserved to reward herself on a well-done job. She interlaced her fingers and put both her interlaced hands behind her head, supporting it in a casual position she hoped she’d get to use a lot more often while on vacation. They’d been driving a long time now, and the woods were getting denser on both sides of the highway. The car was mercifully quiet again— only the sound of the wheels zipping along, the engine humming in time— it was all very lulling, and Millie’s eyes slipped close, sleep taking hold of her behind them.

When she woke up, they had stopped driving. Just from the way Sasha and Hannah were both sitting in the car, Millie could tell that they’d spent the rest of the drive in tense silence— probably because they hadn’t wanted to disturb Millie, and awaken her. Well, that was one way for her to get between them.

It seemed like the car had only just pulled up to— Millie squinted through sleep’s mental residue— that was the cabin Sasha had taken Millie to so many times before in her life.

Sasha was unbuckling her seatbelt— it was evening now. Hannah was doing the same, so Millie scrambled to catch up. The silence endured— but the three women were silent, Millie thought, more out of a dedication to their task than anything else.

First, Sasha unlocked the cabin. She kept the key for it well-hidden in the front wall of the place, but she always remembered it was there. She was the person who owned the cabin, she stashed the key herself, found it again. The three of them quickly walked through the place. It was rustic, but in an authentic way. It radiated coziness— there was a fireplace in the main room Millie couldn’t wait to enjoy on cool nights like these.

But then the three of them were traipsing back out to the car— and once out there, they each helped to get the luggage out of the car, and from there, carry it into the place.

It probably took around twenty-minutes in total to get the car unloaded, and locked up. Then maybe a few minutes more for everyone to pick their rooms.

And then each of the women were tired. Millie knew she was. They all said goodnight, and went in to go to bed.

Millie almost gave up on changing into sleepwear, she was so tired, actually. But ultimately she forced herself to go through the ritual. It was sometime later in the night that Millie heard a strange sound not so far a way. A whirling, whipping sound, as if something large, with engines, was cutting close to the trees and disturbing the forest’s edge.

But Millie was right on the edge of sleep— she was sure it had been a dream. Then she slipped off.

The next few days were a bit tense at first— but both Hannah and Sasha seemed to relax a bit, if only because Millie was always there, putting them in a good mood, spending time of top quality with each of them. She and Hannah went exploring the woods together on long walks. When Sasha cooked meals, she helped, and cajoled Hannah into joining her in this aid. She and Hannah went swimming, and she and her mother played a lot of tennis in the clearing that was only about five feet behind the house. The weather was beautiful all the time— sunny and warm during the days, and cool during the nights, cool enough that they all got to use the fireplace time and again. For the first time, maybe all year, maybe in her entire life, Millie was starting to feel relaxed.

There was only one thing strange. When Millie was out and around the cabin— either in the clearing just behind it, or walking through the woods, she couldn’t shake the feeling there were eyes on her— observers watching her, wherever she went. Neither Hannah nor Sasha ever seemed to know what she was talking about them, and why should they? She felt the eyes when she was outside alone, but she felt them just as much when she was outside in a pair, or outside in a trio. Even when there were other people with her, it felt like the eyes were choosing her to watch— ignoring everyone else that was with her.

Millie kept trying to tell herself she was imagining it— like that dream she’d started to have before completely falling asleep on the first night, of the lowflying aircraft. She could never shake the feeling of unease when she was out anyway.

One day, like they had done many days so far, Millie and Sasha were in the clearing just behind the cabin. They’d set up their tennis net, changed into their tennis clothes, and they were playing. Hannah was sitting not far away in an outdoor loungechair, drinking a sweet mixed drink, and reading a book, with a sunshading brimmed hat on her head.

Sasha had just hit the tennisball to Millie— and Millie was ready for it. She swung her tennisracket, and it connected— it wasn’t a perfect hit, so Millie was surprised to see the ball go shooting up in an arc, soaring into the trees.

“That was a good shot, honey!” Sasha said, a little breathless. They’d been playing hard right up until that hit— Sasha had clearly worked up a sweat. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.

“I don’t get it,” Millie said. “I didn’t make a perfect hit. It shouldn’t have flown on that trajectory.”

“Don’t be falsely modest, Millie,” Sasha criticized. She picked up her waterbottle, and chugged a swig back.

Millie shook her head. “I’ll go look for the ball, mom. It can’t have gone far.”

Sasha nodded, still with water in her mouth. Millie jogged past her, into the woods.

She only had to go a little ways back before she saw the tennisball— there it was— but it wasn’t flying anymore. Or, in another way, it really was, but the more correct term might have been hovering.

Millie took a step towards it, and reached for it. It was at about facelevel with her— but when she reached, it zoomed forward a few inches, then hovered again.

Millie tried approaching it again— the same thing happened.

So instead of stopping and starting, Millie took up a light jog following after the thing— it always stayed just a short ways ahead of Millie— and it was taking Millie deeper into the forest than she had gone before— ahead, she could see a rocky shoal— the side of a rock formation— the ball was still advancing— bringing her closer to the rock face— she could see now, there was a crevice in it— a cave— the tennisball was angling right towards it.

When Millie had gotten to the cave, and stood right at the entrance of it, the tennisball abruptly dropped, and she threw herself quickly forward to catch it in her hand. And once she was holding it, she stared at it— feeling some part of her waking up. She had just followed a floating tennisball here, all the way from the cabin. She wasn’t entirely sure she’d even be able to find the way back— but why hadn’t she questioned the ball to begin with? According to the laws of reality, a regular tennisball shouldn’t have been able to self-propel itself— and definitely not this far.

Well, in any case, she should turn around and try to find—

She strained her ears. That sounded like… voices… coming from inside the cave.

She shifted a little closer to the entrance— it was a narrow opening, with rock formations sometimes showing space and sometimes sealed over— but she stepped right up to that narrow opening— she would be able to go through, but for now she was glad that it seemed the inside of the entrance was casting shadows over her.

She could see inside now. And the inside was definitely not right— it didn’t look like a cave in there. Everything was synthetic, and grey— like someone had chosen to do some serious remodeling inside, and for whatever reason they’d preferred something that looked so clinical that the floors of it shone.

Caves were very uneven— so how had everything been made so uniform and symmetrical?

There were pieces of oddly shaped furniture here and there— and places where strange carpets had been put down on that shine— but there were also two figures in the remodeled cave— and in one look Millie knew they were not human.

The two of them looked like they were the same height as Millie and her mother— the one on the left would have probably been five two if measured— and the one on the right would almost definitely have been five eight. They were standing facing each other— speaking— for the moment, it seemed Millie’s brain was tuning their words out, though they did seem to be English— she was staring at each of their forms.

Both of them had skin that was cheerfully bright— they were pink, they looked like poured pink plastic, or pink textiles mounted on a mannequin, covering every inch. Pink silk, pink satin— no human being had skin that shade of pink. It was a little nauseating how vibrant it was. Millie felt like she was getting a headache.

Both of these figures were clearly female— and they looked humanoid, though they didn’t look like they belonged on earth. Their bodies were both incredibly curvy— again a little too well-endowed and specifically shaped to be quite human— their breasts were pretty huge, and so were their asses, yet they were built in such a way the proportions of their bodies didn’t look comical. A human woman similarly sized would have looked comical.

Millie scanned over them again— that bright pink skin everywhere it was visible— but they had silver hair— and Millie couldn’t be sure, but it looked like their eyes were a similar color of silver.

Both females were wearing the same kind of catsuit looking thing. It was dark blue, so almost a perfect contrast to the look of their skin— and Millie found herself listening to what the two were saying.

“I am right, sister,” the taller one said— so they are sisters. “It’s important to practice the language of the locals. I think you’ve learned a lot just from this practice conversation.”

“You are… right,” the shorter one said, but Millie frowned. Her delivery was wrong— halting in the wrong places. The taller one spoke fluidly, even if she did have something of a strange unearthly accent.

“Why don’t you test your suit, to make sure it’s working correctly in this altered atmosphere?”

“I… wi-ill.” She had made a one syllable word into one that had two; but then she took on a look of great concentration— and Millie watched in shock as the dark blue catsuit shifted— now, it had developed a collar around the shorter one’s throat. And with another look of concentration, it brought up a leash to end that collar.

That was definitely not of this earth— only a little concentration, and it could shift into any form? So they could just make it whatever they wanted to be, then, couldn’t they?

Focused stare. The collar and leash were gone. Focused stare. At first Millie didn’t see the change— but when she looked down, she did, and she felt her cheeks burn. Between the shorter one’s legs, an obscene phallus had emerged, made of the same material as the rest of the suit. She blinked and it was gone— the shorter one wore what simply looked like a catsuit again.

“You’re ready, sister,” the taller one said, though she sounded a little bored about it. “Good luck to you today, I’ll see you after.”

Then the taller one was gone— and Millie couldn’t see where she had gone to.

There was no time to question the meaning of this statement.

The shorter one had turned to look at Millie— had she known Millie was there the whole time?

She raised a beckoning hand. And Millie felt the tennisball move again— this time when it moved forward, at hovering height, it dragged Millie with it because her hand was closed around it. She would have to give it up if she wanted to free herself— would have to let the tennisball go. And she was stubborn in this moment. She wanted the tennisball. She wasn’t going to let go.

Unfortunately, this meant she had been dragged right in front of the alien woman, who know dropped her hand, and the tennisball stopped pulling.

The alien’s face was humanoid, like her body— but it was completely expressionless at close range. Her hair was as short as her chin— bobbed— strange to see a recognizably earth haircut on someone not from here.

Millie didn’t know what to say in this situation. But she was still holding the tennisball, so that felt like a victory at least.

“I am… Adell-la,” said Adella, still not speaking in rhythm. “I am Ama,” — the name of her species? “and you are… human. What… you see must… confuse… you. But you don’t… need to… understand. Ama technology is… far beyond… the intelligence of… humans. Even the ones… who… are not yet… domesticated.”

Millie’s mind reeled as she heard what Adella was saying. It was all coming in too fast— this entire experience was too strange— Adella’s face never emoted when she spoke, and she couldn’t seem to speak without that stilting.

“We have been… watching you… and I have… chosen you. I will domesticate… you now.”

Domesticate? Like she wanted Millie to be a pet? Was this what these Ama did? Come to other worlds, and take women? What did they do to them after? The word ‘domesticate’ didn’t sound very good to Millie.

Something had changed in the cave. There was a scent in the air now— it was strongest where it was close to Adella— it was something her body was emitting into the air. And it smelled like no earthly scent— there was so much of it it felt like a cloud around Millie’s head.

It was hard to think. It was hard to even remember how to breathe. And when it entered through her head, it seemed to go through all the rest of her body like it was touching her from the inside— stroking inwards from her breasts, stroking inwards from her vagina— then it was like her blood simmered, roiling all throughout her with whatever she had been breathing in. Adella was dosing her with the chemicals her body made— and it seemed to automatically trigger physiological arousal in her. It also seemed to obscure her mind from her— like she couldn’t quite think— quite decide— Millie stood there, and breathed in again.

She wished Hannah were here. Physics major— physics major— her head spun and the synthetic room seemed to spin too. Hannah was a physics major so they— could understand reality better, the scientific reasons for why things were happening— Millie’s undeclared arts degree— it couldn’t explain anything about this to her.

She was only nineteen. There was sadness in her— even through the clouds of scent that seemed to keep circling her head and entering her body through it. She didn’t want to be domesticated— she didn’t want to stop being herself, didn’t want to become— didn’t want to belong to an alien. She wanted to go back to her own life.

She wanted her mother.

“Won’t…” Millie struggled to say. Her body was panting with the arousal now, sweating heavily. “Don’t… want to be a pet… won’t… not an animal…”

A different creature might have smiled— but Adella’s face still didn’t move. She wore no expression.

“You… fetched a ball for… me. It is… in your hand.”

Millie looked down at the tennisball and for a second couldn’t see it with any different view than the one Adella had suggested to her. Like a loyal pet she had fetched the ball and brought it back to her owner.

“Put it… in my hand,” Adella said, outstretching her pink palm. “You have brought… it to me.”

Millie’s head spun. There was something… she was supposed to be doing… supposed to be thinking… but while her head spun the only thing that was constant was the sight of Adella’s hand outstretched, waiting for the tennisball.

She still hadn’t given it over.

Adella’s face registered nothing. “Put it… in your mouth… hold… it with your teeth… then place it in… my hand.”

The words were loud in a head that spun.

Millie was so confused— but she couldn’t remember how to argue. She felt her lips come apart, and her mouth open. There was more of that dizzying scent spreading in the air around her all the time, and her tongue had lolled out of her mouth. It hung as she panted, but she fit the tennisball between her teeth, then lowered her head to put it in Adella’s hand.

When her head was still low, but the ball was in her hand, she felt Adella petting her hair. “Good… human,” Adella said without inflection. But it still seemed to amplify the arousal in Millie’s body.

Adella was strange… but for a moment, Millie felt like Adella was her owner, and she had to love her owner as she was.

Then Millie shook her head to try and get the thought out of it. For some reason it was wrong… all… of this… was wrong.

But Millie was standing and looking at Adella again, and Adella reeled her arm back, and threw the ball. Millie’s eyes followed it helplessly as it arced in a perfect curve to finally land on what looked soft and comfortable, like a bed.

“Follow the… ball,” Adella instructed— and Millie ran to the bed— she couldn’t see it amid the pile of blankets. She shifted them around searching for it within.

Millie didn’t have a chance to find it, because suddenly Adella was right behind her on the bed.

She stopped trying to look for the ball momentarily, instead turning to look at Adella.

“Lay,” Adella told her, and Millie felt herself slipping onto her back— looking up at Adella over her. She recognized the look of concentration Adella wore on her face— the collar was around her throat, the leashlead coming off of it— that artificial phallus was between her legs.

The moment seemed so real suddenly. No— she didn’t want to belong to Adella— no—

“Not a pet,” Millie insisted with greater vehemence this time.

But Adella was laying herself along Millie’s body— and her mouth connected to Millie’s. She could taste Adella’s saliva. It flipped her upside down, brought her rightside up, turned her all around again. The emittance Adella’s body had created was ten times more potent than when it was odor. The fluids of Adella’s body, the fluids of her mouth— they held that trace substance in greater quantity. Millie’s mind was washed empty. She had been wrong to think she was confused before.

She was confused now and the only thing that made sense was Adella kissing her, her tongue slithering around Millie’s tongue— it was as alien as Adella, but Millie could feel her own arousal scorching her hottest now out of all the times it had been. Adella kissed her more aggressively— and something else was happening— how was it happening, Millie couldn’t understand— but it felt like she and Adella were going someplace else, some kind of inbetween place away from their bodies, this synthetic room. It was some kind of mental space— spiritual space— an abstraction.

Millie could sense her own consciousness, but she was feeling so much of Adella’s consciousness, too. And Adella was frustrated. Here in this space they shared there was no language— everything was just an idea; as soon as it existed it was understood, and when it originated in Adella’s constellation of consciousness, it traveled to Millie’s— and then Millie understood it in words. Adella was still struggling with human language— and there were things she needed Millie to understand, things she needed Millie to be convinced of, and her struggling grasp of Millie’s language was getting in the way.

Millie was shocked to feel the joining of their consciousness— but Adella was satisfied that it had worked, and Millie felt that satisfaction throughout the awareness that was her. Or, Her. She wasn’t sure Adella grasped the idea of capital letters, but what she transmitted to Millie’s awareness now seemed to demand greater respect.

Millie was only getting a tentative grasp on what was happening. What Adella felt, what she was actively thinking— that was in the front of her constellation— but there were vast spaces beyond it, and while Adella could look into Millie’s stars and send things in there— there was a two-way connection open, Millie could look into Adella’s mind— she moved past the front cloud of Adella’s being to look beyond.

Ama— that was their species name— they came from beyond the stars, more than one galaxy over— Millie could see them, see their civilization— this was what they did; they took their spaceships on leisure trips to scout populated planets— and anywhere they encountered humanoid females, they enslaved them, no matter the species, and brought them back home to be their pets forever. There was no greater strategy— they only did it for the sake of enjoyment!

Millie would have been outraged if there hadn’t been so much information passing through her being— Adella’s life; she had come here with two other Ama; she was the youngest daughter— younger than her sister— but she had reached age of majority by now, she was adult by Ama culture’s standards. Though just now, Millie couldn’t tell how long Ama actually lived for— it seemed to her it might be for longer than a human lifespan. In Adella’s memories, Millie recognized Adella’s older sister as the taller alien who had left. The one who was five eight.

For someone so without emotion on the surface, there was a lot inside. Ama went on frequent slave recruitment trips— and Adella’s sister and her mother had gone many times. No Ama ever believed they had enough pets— they all liked keeping menageries— but Adella had never been to slaverecruit until now. This was her very first trip, since she was now an Ama adult, and she was nervous— she wanted so badly to prove her worthiness, prove her skill.

Her mother and her sister still saw her as inexperienced and sheltered— she wanted to show them she was more than that. The feeling was so prominent in her vast galaxy of consciousness that it must have been a desperate aching in her. Adella didn’t even have her own slavepets yet— Millie would be her first— she’d chosen Millie because Millie was so similar in size to her— and Adella had thought she could subdue Millie on her own if it came to that.

Millie pulled herself out of the stream of information from Adella’s mind for a moment. She was inexperienced— was that why she hadn’t been able to stop Millie looking into her while she looked into Millie? She seemed dissatisfied by what Millie had seen— Millie felt her attention was being seized— Adella wanted to convey to her now.

She was sending Millie ideas. Images— and then Millie’s mind dutifully translated all of these to words. Adella was thinking of Millie getting down on her knees and licking her through her catsuit— the suits still allowed physical sensation from stimulus even where they covered skin— Millie naked, Millie licking, not caring about anything, not remembering her own identity, only wanting to serve Adella.

The way Adella was showing this to her in her mind was insistent, like someone had grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to look in a direction. Millie licking Adella’s huge breasts, licking pebbling nibbles still through the suit. If Millie had obeyed well enough— being allowed to take her owner’s catsuit off, to behold her naked body— and directly taste the fluids it output, the fluids which would hopelessly enslave her further— all of the images blurring together, cycling through, faster and faster. It felt like one idea was pulsing in her thoughts— and Millie knew which word matched it.

Slave. Slave. Slave. Over and over again— Slave— as she licked, touched, made her beloved owner come. Slave. Slave. Slave. As her owner made her forget that she had ever had a name. Slave. Slave. Slave. Slave. Being made to forget she had ever been an independent. Forgetting how to speak, forgetting how to think, being obliterated, reduced only to the animal, forgetting everything but how to pleasure so she could get the pleasure back.

It was hot to be enslaved, hot to be enraptured. The knowledge coursed into her and she cringed from it— she would obey. It was hot to learn obedience, to be trained into pethood, hot to crawl and do as Owner bid her. Adella, her owner, had grips in Millie’s mental space and she was touching everything directly, Millie couldn’t escape thoughts she was starting to believe— a future that seemed about to happen to her. She couldn’t remember trying to protest before tasting Adella’s saliva.

Adella stopped kissing Millie— and Millie felt hollow. She was aware of her surroundings only barely— but at least she wasn’t lost in the mental plane any longer.

Adella’s face was unemotive as she looked down at Millie, but she looked commanding. Adella was a superior being— that belief seemed to have seeped through Millie’s mind somehow— Millie was small and a nothing next to her— Adella leaned back— Millie could feel Adella lining up her synthetic phallus with Millie’s vaginal opening— Millie’s mouth could only gape open as she looked at it— larger than anything a human man would have had.

That would stretch if it didn’t tear— but Adella licked the fingers of her hand, and then Millie felt Adella press them to her forehead— and then Adella’s consciousness was in her head. It wasn’t as subsuming as when her moisture and Adella’s had touched— this time she could still feel her body— but clearly Adella had given up on forcing the use of human language and wanted a more direct channel of communication now.

An idea, which Millie understood in her own words. You are so wet. You are ready to be filled. You long to be filled. Tell me you will be filled up by me.

“I will be filled up by you,” Millie said faintly— voice shaking and soft— it felt like she was giving some part of herself away as she said it. She could not even imagine disobedience. She was letting herself go, losing to the commanding power of her owner.

She felt the tip of the phallus intrude. Obey. Obey. Pet— obey. Pet— you are being Trained. Every time you feel the pleasure you become more well-trained. Every time you feel the pleasure it domesticates you. Every time you feel yourself being penetrated. Relax. You are being Trained.

Millie shuddered. Even understanding Adella felt like obeying her— Adella gave her the idea, but Millie’s mind was the one that applied the words to it.

Now she could really feel the phallus Adella was controling come into her. It was splitting her apart— forcing her to gape open, coming in deeper, coming in wider, and the more it came in, the more Millie felt her brain was being pushed open. Adella was fucking Millie’s mind open by fucking her between the legs— with that phallus she speared Millie’s brain.

Becoming my pet, Millie felt Adella’s consciousness in her head again. It was so filling— but Millie’s mind was trapped. She felt the penetration— it made her obey— she felt the penetration— it made her be trained— it pinned her— she could only squirm on it— and her eyes had latched on the collar around Adella’s throat as Adella roughly rode her.

Adella’s free hand came to rest against her collar. You want. Are my pet. Want collar like this. See collar. Feel penetration. Obey. Are my pet.

Millie’s entire vagina was aching throughout, she was being filled so completely, and stretched so wide— and now Adella was slamming in and out of her inhumanly fast.

Millie’s mind had become so clouded and befuddled, but she was struck with a moment of clarity. She could be aware, just now, of what was being done to her— she could be aware of what the price for this would be. She’d be taken far away, kept at Adella’s side, waiting to lap between her legs with her tongue— and she could choose either to acquiesce to this future, and to Adella— or she could choose to try and fight right now.

Adella penetrated her with such dominance. The bed, which didn’t seem quite of earthly design, absorbed the force of Adella’s body, but Adella was practically jumping on Millie, spearing her deeper, spearing her deeper, then finding a way to spear her even deeper still.

Millie didn’t care if this was only happening because of how much she’d already been trained. Adella was asking of her, without speaking.

And it was only one question, in repetition. Asking Millie to give of herself— to give entirely of herself. Millie was having a hard time formulating language, just then, but Millie knew what her answer was, and she could express it physically.

Adella shoved herself far into Millie, but now Millie humped on her deliberately when she came in. Adella shoved forward and Millie drew her further. She was using muscles in her vagina she hadn’t known were there— and each time she took a thrust from Adella, it felt like she was making an offer to her, freely giving up, freely submitting and giving fragments of identity. She’d give everything— she’d submit freely— she’d submit herself into wordlessness. Millie couldn’t tell who was more desperate for this to happen anymore, Adella or her.

But it wasn’t enough.

“Collar,” Millie whimpered. “Please— am pet—” She was speaking the way Adella thought— Adella was so fully in her head. She was quivering as that fat phallus fucked her.

Adella nodded once, then her fingers reached under the lip of the collar. Millie was surprised to see that catsuit give it up— but it came away in Adella’s hand, the catsuit reforming a neckline without it, and the leashlead was still attached.

Adella drove a deeper thrust in— bottomed out in Millie.

Mine forever once wearing— “Please,” Millie whimpered again. “Collar.” She was giving away all of herself that remained.

The collar came around her throat. Adella ground the phallus inside her, and in Millie’s mind, told her she was a good pet, and that she could come.

Millie lost herself in the ecstasy.