subliminalbo

[subliminalbo]

Basing my opinion on Mamdani solely on how much he looks like he'd host a Youtube channel where he analyzes Marxist themes in Phantasy Star IV: The End of the Millennium

[subliminalbo]

The media loves to create distrust of leftists who grew up privileged as if The Strokes don't exist

[subliminalbo]

The Pleasure Method

This is a continuation of Return to Office

It was simply dumb luck that Futurum stumbled into their newest tech. The Conditioning Initiative was a success, but its limitations were beginning to show. If the goal was to create the perfect workplace free from distractions or inefficiencies, the next step was for associates to embrace the Initiative in every phase of their lives. This was why R&D shifted to The Pleasure Method.

The Pleasure Method was reversed engineered from hardware discovered in a sorority house basement near Carpenter State's campus. Futurum recovered a treasure trove of hypnotic media files from a hard drive in the basement, but the files themselves weren't fundamentally different from what the company had achieved with The Conditioning Initiative. What really fascinated researchers were the testimonies culled from members of that sorority. From the firsthand accounts of formerly brainwashed Alphas, Futurum developed a program consisting of a set of stimulants delivered audibly, visually, and physically all at the same time.

The power of sexual stimulation in subverting a subject's will had been documented in the past, but Futurum's interest was in testing its absolute limits. In their deprogramming, the sorority sisters recalled being hypnotized and fucked senselessly. Deprived of sight and sound from a pair of noise cancelling headphones and VR headset, there was nothing left to focus on but the feeling of soft hands on sensitive flesh, wet tongues rolling over aching clits, and thick silicone cocks penetrating deep into any hole they could fill. The sorority sisters were programmed to desire only this feeling. After several hours of unceasing stimulation they would do anything in their waking minds to feel that level of pleasure again. A pleasure so powerful, so intoxicating, so complete that it could even drive a person to cast off their free will and enter into mindless obedience.

The Pleasure Method was a more sophisticated apparatus than the crude setup recovered in the Alphas basement. R&D had long rooms filled with rows of examination chairs where subjects were strapped in and treated to days—not simply hours, but days—worth of sexual stimulation. Each chair was called a Pleasure Station. Mechanical arms loomed above every station, bolted to the ceiling and fitted with long, motorized silicone rods for vaginal or anal penetration. Regular electric shocks were delivered through a subject's nipples to maximize the body's capacity for pleasure.

All of this was conducted under deep hypnosis. Audio files droned in a subjects ear, reinforcing messages of submission. A large visor was bolted to the chair's headrest. It lowered over the occupant's eyes, projecting a synchronized light display which capacitated the subject while they absorbed the directions which filled their ears. Subjects were fed intravenously so that they could remain under The Pleasure Method for days.

The end results were a monumental step forward from the simple subliminal messaging of the first phase of The Conditioning Initiative. The Pleasure Method had been one hundred percent successful in shaping Futurum associates into re-writable worker drones.

The applications for the workplace were endless. The efficiency crisis that had plagued offices since the pandemic couldn't just be solved through The Pleasure Method, Futurum guaranteed that no energy would ever be wasted in an office or a factory or a boardroom ever again. The future of work was mental conditioning, and the key was sexual pleasure.

You would be hard pressed to find a better example of this than No. 14. Privately designated Shelby Irving, No. 14 was a graduate student at Carpenter State University who had worked on the initial stages of The Conditioning Initiative as part of a summer job program. When No. 14 returned the following year, she dutifully submitted herself for processing at a Pleasure Station. Though Irving still a student at CSU, No. 14 accepted a full time job as a researcher in Futurum R&D, assisting in the processing of new subjects. Despite balancing two full time jobs, the new perspective afforded to No. 14 by her conditioning made her exceedingly efficient. She had difficulty transitioning between both worlds every day.

Sometimes No. 14's worlds would collide, though, like when she was tasked with processing a new recruit who studied in the same rhetoric program at the school. On Irving's recommendation, Josie had applied for the summer work program. By the time she stood naked before a Pleasure Station, she had undergone initial hypnotic conditioning through Futurum's new on-boarding program. That conditioning only slipped when Josie was strapped into the chair.

No. 14 inserted the IV into her arm.

"Shelby?" Josie squeaked. She had awoken to the sound of a dozen subjects undergoing their own processing. The subjects' thoughtless moans filled her ears like a ghoulish chant.

It wasn't uncommon for a subject's conditioning to fail during preparation. This only proved the need for a more permanent solution to The Conditioning Initiative.

"Shelby, please!" Josie begged, but there was no recognition in No. 14's eyes. "Oh, god!" she cried as the mechanical arm dropped down from the ceiling, the longest dildo she had seen in her life just inches from her pussy. "What is that?"

"It is advisable that you remain relaxed through the preparation process," No. 14 instructed. Her glassy eyes floated from the terrified expression on Josie's face to the mechanical arm in front of her. When they moved back to Josie, they lingered on her soft, round tits jiggling with each sob. A subtle, nearly imperceptible twitch of No. 14's eye displayed a potential hiccup in The Pleasure Method: that subjects could be molded and trained, but an increased desire for sexual satisfaction could take them at any minute. This time, however, the desire passed, and No. 14 continued with her programmed duties.

"Subjects find the pleasure distributor to be extremely arousing," No. 14 explained. "The artificial phallus is lubricated to ensure minimum discomfort during penetration. It will be a pleasurable experience for you."

"Fuck you, Shelby!" Josie cried. She pulled hard at her restraints, but she couldn't shake the straps free. When Josie knew that she couldn't find her way out, she tried to appeal to the friend that she knew from school.

"Shelby, please," she pleaded again. "You have to fight this! Whatever they've done to you. I know you're in there. I know you're still you."

But No. 14 was unmoved by Josie's pleas. She slipped the noise cancelling headphones over Josie's ears and lowered the visor plate over her eyes, a neon glow illuminating along its rim as the program took effect. Josie released a sharp, surprised gasp when the pleasure distributor entered her pussy. It started with slow thrusts and picked up speed as her body produced more natural lubrication. Her pleas quickly softened until there was nothing left but a hungry moan that was indistinguishable from the rest of the noise in the R&D room. Slowly, Josie's voice became another part of the chant.

No. 14 was practically dripping as she watched Josie become No. 500. With that same little twitch of the eye, she came. It washed over her so silently that an observer would never know the level of pleasure firing through No. 14's body.

If she had a thought left in her head, it may have been that she fucking loved this job.

[subliminalbo]

Hypnovember Day 12: Return To Office

Shelby knew that she was selling out taking a job at Futurum, but her guilt only lasted as long as it took to receive the first paycheck. Her punk rock English professor spirit may have been broken, but principles were not going to pay her bills.

Her first contract only lasted through the summer. Shelby returned to work at Carpenter State when fall semester resumed, with the door left open to return in a contingent capacity at Futurum if she ever wanted to make some extra money. And then the pandemic changed everything. When Shelby returned to Futurum the following summer, her role was 100% work from home. She had expected to do more grant writing, but her new supervisor saw potential for Shelby on a new top secret project that they were calling Athena.

This time her contract flew by, even though she continued teaching at Carpenter State for a brief portion of the contract before it ended. Once again, Shelby's supervisors at Futurum were impressed with her work and left the door open for future projects.

It did seem odd to Shelby in the days following her exit interview that she could recall so little of the work she did for Futurum, but ultimately she chose not to raise a concern to anybody. If she needed to remember, she would have. It must have not been essential to her duties.

The next summer when Shelby applied for a new contract, she received a phone call from the hiring manager informing her that that year's assignment would be in-office only. Work from home had grown on Shelby, and though it bummed her out to turn down Futurum, she decided that she'd rather find a role as a grant writer someplace that would let her work remotely.

And then the sound cut through the line. It was a long, shearing sound, sort of like a knife dragging down a chalkboard. A sound that Shelby had heard many times before, every day when she would log onto her laptop for work. A sound which she could not remember.

Her mind was empty. The hiring manager asked her to repeat her sequence.

"Echo. Data breach. Whale. Dictaphone. Groundbreaking. Clockwork. Omega," Shelby intoned before she confirmed her name and number and accepted the job offer.

When Shelby arrived at Futurum for her first day, she found that the culture in the office had been completely transformed. The long rows of cubicles were still there, but the constant friendly chatter among coworkers over their walls was completely gone. Every individual employee was totally locked in to their tasks. The floors were silent save for the clatter of keys being stroked at a rate that must have been higher than a hundred words per minute. The most bizarre change of all was that nobody had a name anymore. They all answered to numbers.

Shelby didn't question any of it by the time she reached the floor. She'd already been buzzed, repeated her sequence, and fallen under the control that Futurum had established during her second assignment working on the project that was actually called The Conditioning Initiative. Shelby, or No. 14 as she was referred to by her employers, was led to the office of No. 1, who rose from his seat to greet her.

"We are pleased to have you back," No. 1 said. "As you can see, The Conditioning Initiative has been a massive success to employee metrics and your work last summer in developing the program was invaluable to its success."

No. 14 smiled, proud to hear that she was, in some small way, responsible for the conditioning of everyone out on the floor.

"Thank you, No. 1," No. 14 said. "An efficient workplace is a happy work place."

"That is the consensus from Futurum shareholders," No. 1 replied.

After some very brief small talk, No. 1 led No. 14 down the hall toward Classified Research where she would be doing most of work during this assignment. He explained her new role as they walked.

"Now that we've completed the rollout of The Conditioning Initiative to the floor, our focus is shifting to reliability and efficiency. With the first phase of the initiative we found success in simple light displays, subliminals, and sound triggers. However, our researchers believe that stimulation is the most promising avenue for advancement."

No. 1 scanned his clearance card and pushed through the two wide double doors that marked the entrance to Classified Research. No. 14 followed, marveling at what she found in the next rooms. No. 1 led her down a long, bright room lined with chairs similar to the ones you might find at the dentist. Each chair had a nude human subject strapped into it, their feet in stirrups. The subjects were a mix of male and female. Each one had odd, mechanical devices fastened over their vaginas or penises which No. 14 would later learn from her own experience were pleasure units designed to deliver automatic sexual stimulation. Bulky, noise cancelling headphones covered their ears and visors strapped to their heads covered their eyes.

The sound of dozens of moans bouncing off the walls replaced the keystrokes she'd heard outside.

No. 14 drooled at the thought of what the subjects were seeing, hearing, feeling. She almost squealed when No. 1 led her to an empty chair at the end of the row and indicated that it was her turn to disrobe.

"Of course, Controller," No. 14 said, stripping down before her boss.

"The Pleasure Method takes longer, but we've found its effects are far more profound. We actually discovered the method from an incident on campus, but the technology is better in our hands."

"Of course, Controller," No. 14 repeated, climbing into the chair to be fitted with her own pleasure unit.

[subliminalbo]

Quick Hits #29: Meditations

Only performers had ever been allowed in the dressing room, but that changed when Cecily Van Zandt bought The Hedron Theater in downtown Romero. Ms. Van Zandt, as you know, was the daughter of Isaiah Van Zandt, the multi-billionaire octogenarian CEO of Futurum. That made Cecily CEO in waiting. There was push back in the local art community, but the Van Zandts wielded more power in Romero than anyone who wasn't named Carpenter. Cecily would not be denied her bid.

Bianca didn't know much about the politics of the sale. All she ever cared about was dancing. Growing up in Romero, the Hedron Dancers were like goddesses to Bianca. The theater may have fallen on hard times, but being a member of their company still meant something to her. Anyone who was willing to save the venue was alright in her opinion.

There were some dancers who resisted. A couple quit outright, but it was the director of the Hedron Dancers, Amanda Reese, who took the most dramatic action. She drafted a petition that called upon the government to block the sale and take ownership of the theater, suggesting that she be installed as director of the theater instead. It was a long shot, but the proposal began to build momentum through online activism.

Then suddenly, without warning or explanation, Amanda withdrew her petition. Online chatter died down and without a leader to keep the topic relevant, the effort to stop the sale of the Hedron Theater disappeared with it. The first time Amanda brought Cecily Van Zandt back to the dressing room to met her dancers, the girls were shocked. Amanda introduced Cecily with a bright smile, and Cecily gave a little speech, promising that nothing about their work at the theater would change.

"This dance company is a vital part of Romero's culture and history," Cecily reassured them. "My work as owner of this theater is to ensure that the Hedron Dancers have a place to perform for generations to come."

Her promises may have had a better reception if the girls weren't all in various states of undress. Amanda, who had been doggedly protective of her talent's privacy, just stared forward with that stupid smile as Cecily's words washed over her.

Even Bianca had to admit that the introduction was awkward, but she still wasn't willing to give up on her dream because of a little corporate interference.

Cecily broke her promise the very next day when Amanda announced that a portion of each weeknight rehearsal would now be dedicated to an hour of meditation. Interest in stupid new age bullshit wasn't uncommon for billionaires' kids, but Cecily's idea of meditation were these weird Futurum-produced videos. The meditation was split into modules, each one featuring a different video and questionnaire. The weird thing was that the questionnaire didn't feature any questions at all, rather a dozen prewritten statements that the participant had to affirm to finish the module.

I feel receptive to new ideas.

I feel eager to try new things.

I feel at peace with my new life.

It was corporate onboarding dressed in a billionaire kid's stupid new age bullshit. The videos were predictably strange too. Discomforting lightshows and flashing images accompanied by a strangely powerful voiceover intoning messages that were difficult to decipher behind a loud music track. Total sensory overload. Wasn't the point of meditation to chill out? Bianca did not feel chill.

Condition your mind, the first module said. And your body will follow.

"Wake the fuck up, Bianca!" Cara snapped her fingers.

Bianca turned away from her reflection in the dressing room mirror as Cara held her phone up to her face. She was staring at a photo of Amanda's computer. The photo showed an unprinted ad for A Night With the Hedron Dancers.

Cara read quotes from the ad: "'Exclusive access,' 'one-on-one,' 'behind closed doors,' 'Pick your favorite?' What are we, fucking prostitutes now?"

"Of course not," Bianca laughed. "It sounds like an exclusive show for the Stoker crowd. Just a way to bring in a bit more money for the theater."

"You know, your skepticism is really starting to freak me the fuck out," Cara grumbled.

"Things are changing in the theater world," Bianca said softly. "I'm not happy about it either, but until I smell smoke I'm not going to panic."

Cara snorted, swaying her hips to step out of her leotard. "The whole fucking theater's on fire, Bianca. You can't see the flames?"

When the girls were finished changing, they left the dressing room to join the other dancers in meditation.

In the following weeks, Amanda began distributing the ads as pamphlets to wealthy members of the theater. Word spread quickly about the theater's new VIP services. By then, the dancers had completed every module of their meditations. Even Cara was swayed by Cecily's new vision.

Bianca never smelled the smoke. Not even when Amanda ushered her up to the private box before a show to introduce her to a Romero police captain. He sat there in the privacy of the dim light. His pants were already down around his ankles. He stroked his cock as he watched the dancers warm up on stage. Bianca dropped to her knees.

Amanda and the captain discussed prices as Bianca sucked him off. She stroked his cock while working the tip with her tongue, warming him up before she took his full length into her mouth. The negotiation was indecipherable to Bianca. She could only think of her meditations.

My body follows, she thought.

Anyone was allowed back in the dressing room for the right price.

The quality of performances began to dip, shows routinely started late. As the audience sat in their seats waiting for the curtains to rise, the dancers were backstage fucking their VIP guests. Even as ratings dropped online, the theater brought in record profits.

One night after rehearsal, the Hedron Dancers returned to the dressing room to find Cecily waiting for them. Under Amanda's orders, the girls lined up in front of their mirrors, standing up straight, arms at their sides, their eyes staring blankly forward. Cecily walked down the line of women, studying her assets.

Cara, next to Bianca, shuddered as Cecily's eyes traveled up and down her body.

Bianca was the last in line. Cecily stopped in front of her, lips pursed as she considered her value.

"What's this one's name again?" Cecily asked.

"Bianca Merchant," Amanda recited. "She's been with the company for the last three years, Ms. Van Zandt."

Bianca gasped when Cecily pressed her hand to her leotard, mapping the outline of her pussy through the fabric. Cecily pulled her hand back and studied it. She rolled her thumb along her forefinger to test the wetness of it. Bianca offered a proud smile for her owner as she was measured.

"Not anymore," Cecily said coldly. "The captain's made an offer. He wants a wife to put in that mansion up in Stoker."

"She's one of our best dancers, Ms. Van Zandt," Amanda said. It could have even been mistaken for protest, if she were capable of that anymore.

"We'll find more," Cecily replied. "Gigs like this are a stepping stone. If she's that good, she'll move onto something better eventually. Say she gives me two more years of ticket sales, that's a fraction of the deal I made with the captain. Plus, it opens up a relationship with RPD. We'll want that in case somebody comes around snooping."

"Of course, Ms. Van Zandt," Amanda said.

Bianca didn't know much about the politics of the sale. All she ever cared about was becoming the perfect wife. Dancing was really just a way to keep her body nimble for her future husband.

"Thank you, Ms. Van Zandt," Bianca said with a smile as wide as Amanda's. "I'll serve you proudly in my new life."

[subliminalbo]

I was at a work shindig the other day and this guy was talking about me being a real life shitposter and he asked, "so how much time did you spend on 4chan in high school" and I said, "Oh, God, no I was a Tumblr kid."

Then my friend, who knows too much about me, added, "He was also a child of Deviantart" and I wanted to scream at her lmao

I'm surviving the second Trump administration the same way I survived the first (writing mind control smut on Deviantart for dozens of people)

[subliminalbo]

I'm surviving the second Trump administration the same way I survived the first (writing mind control smut on Deviantart for dozens of people)

[subliminalbo]

I don't really find the hypnosis in Get Out hot, but I do like the sunken place as imagery for an induction scene. It can be hot, but I don't think it is as it's presented in the movie.

Curious about your opinion on hypnosis scenes from Get Out. Like obviously a thriller and scary story and such but also it they are really good right?

I really like the science fiction of the whole thing and the gif you used with the tea bag reminded me of it. Have you seen it?

I honestly haven't seen the movie yet. I've seen a few gifs and I know what you're talking about, but I was afraid it would super creep me out so I haven't watched it lol

[subliminalbo]

Hypnovember Day 10: Futurum

This is a sequel to The Conditioning Initiative

Corbin got a lot of tips for her crime blog, but few were as massive as the one about Futurum. For years, Futurum had been something of a Romero mystery. What exactly did applied science mean? If Corbin had to guess, the shady corporation was developing weapons for the government. They kept their projects secret and their employees silent with aggressive NDAs. Of the ones willing to talk to Corbin, none even knew what they were working on, admitting that Futurum delivered work orders to engineers with purposely stingy context.

That was too interesting not to chase before she received the email. And then one day Corbin opened her Outlook to find the message: an internal memo detailing The Conditioning Initiative—Futurum’s top secret research into mind control, real MKUltra stuff. Definitely the kind of thing the government would be interested in.

“Fuck,” Corbin whispered as she scrolled through pages of names and processes.

The Conditioning Initiative had started out small, recruiting from a pool of remote Carpenter State interns. After successful trials, the initiative was expanded to Grade E employees—people leaders who would in turn oversee further expansion of the initiative to Grades D, C, B, and A, moving down the chain until all of the working class associates at Futurum had been conditioned.

All of this was confirmed and detailed by Corbin’s source. Stephanie Mason was a manager at Futurum who had grown disgruntled when she discovered upper management’s plans to expand The Conditioning Initiative to every employee. She explained that she had reservations when she learned about the research, but had ultimately assumed that common sense and human rights would win out.

“But every day there was a new spreadsheet on my desk,” Stephanie recalled to Corbin. “Productivity numbers. That’s all they kept talking about: ‘Look at these productivity numbers!’”

“That’s all this is about?” Corbin asked.

“Time theft has been a concern in office spaces for years,” Stephanie replied. “My bosses believe they can transform the workforce into perfect laborers, singularly focused. It really is something. I mean, it’s spooky to see people work like that.”

“In my experience, mind control conspiracies tend to be a bit more…sexually motivated,” Corbin said, crossing her legs as she spoke.

“Not at Futurum,” Stephanie shook her head. “It’s all about the bottom line.”

Corbin recognized the bravery it took for Stephanie to come to her. Even having a coffee in public, she was taking an incredible risk. Corbin caught her mistake when she noticed Stephanie’s eyes darting back and forth around the cafe. She promised that next time they met she would choose a location that was a bit more suited to clandestine meetings.

But it was Stephanie who arranged the next meeting, texting Corbin the address to the anonymous motel in River City with a room number. The motel rented by the hour and was a popular spot for secret hookups and sex work. Corbin thought it was appropriately clandestine, but when Stephanie greeted her wearing nothing but a bath towel, she got the feeling that Stephanie had more than just new information to offer.

“Just caught me getting out of the shower,” Stephanie laughed. 

Corbin tried not to ogle too much, but she was already crushing on Stephanie after their first meeting, and seeing her now like this was only making it worse.

“Make yourself a drink,” Stephanie pointed toward the little minibar. “I’m just going to change real quick.”

When Stephanie disappeared behind the bathroom door, Corbin opened the mini fridge to find it full of small bottles of alcohol which she assumed Stephanie had stocked herself. Planning for a fun night, she thought.

“I was surprised when you got back to me so quickly,” Corbin said, raising her voice to project through the bathroom door. She twisted the cap on a bottle of Smirnoff and took a swig. “I thought you’d want to play it safe and lay low for a bit before jumping back into…”

Stephanie had exited the bathroom, but she hadn’t changed her clothes. Instead, she dropped the towel before Corbin, exposing her nude body to her. Corbin exhaled. “Stephanie…” she said.

“Do you like what you see?” Stephanie asked.

It had occurred to Corbin that Stephanie was too good to be true. The inside woman with intimate knowledge of her company’s brainwashing conspiracy was the kind of trap that Corbin had learned to look for. No more mistakes, Corbin had resolved with herself after everything with the Alphas. But goddamn, she really did like what she saw.

Corbin set her bottle down on top of the fridge. “When did they get to you? Was it a trap all along? Futurum was hardly on my radar before you came to me.”

It was like Corbin could see Stephanie’s personality melt away in real time, the giggling Stephanie who had greeted her in a bath towel simply a facade that hid the fine-tuned automaton underneath. Stephanie was right: it was spooky. That vacant expression, her mouth hanging loose as she spoke slowly and deliberately to Corbin.

“The correspondence was an aberration in No.33’s programming,” Stephanie said. “Appropriate measures were taken to recondition this subject. Do you like what you see?”

Ohhh fuck, referring to herself in the third person and everything. It was like Futurum had a dossier on Corbin and knew which buttons to push. Seeing Stephanie go full robot woman brought some serious flashbacks for Corbin. She still hadn’t fully recovered from the months she spent as one of Madison Wells’ brainwashed Alphas. She couldn’t help but see a bit of herself in Stephanie, that part of her that, no matter how hard she fought, would always want to submit.

Stephanie approached Corbin slowly, repeating, “Do you like what you see?”

Corbin nodded her head yes. When Stephanie reached her in the middle of the room, she pressed her lips to Corbin’s, and Corbin kissed back. Stephanie’s tongue was warm in her mouth. Corbin was already so wet. Futurum really couldn’t have pulled this shit at a worse time for her. It had been so long that she was completely folding to Stephanie’s advances.

“What’s the plan here?” Corbin asked as she pulled her shirt over her head. “Futurum gets me laid and I’m supposed to be so thankful that I don’t write about it?”

“I am bound by my NDA to refrain from discussing Futurum business with non-authorized individuals,” Stephanie said.

Corbin’s bra dropped to the floor. The pair moved to the bed, Stephanie flicking her tongue over Corbin’s nipples as her fingers rolled her clit. Corbin’s Alpha instincts took over, pleading and moaning like the horny slut Madison had trained her to be. It was bad. It was so fucking bad.

When Corbin reached what Stephanie determined was optimum arousal, Stephanie repositioned herself between Corbin’s legs. 

“Fuck, that’s hot!” Corbin cried when Stephanie’s face sank into her soaking pussy. Corbin had cum to the tongues of a dozen Alphas, her own brainwashing being a days-long session under the visor as Madison’s best slaves took turns assaulting Corbin’s clit. But Corbin had never felt anything like Stephanie’s tongue. It was a tireless assault of pleasure, starting slow but strong and picking up speed as she went, building to the most efficient orgasm Corbin had ever felt.

She didn’t open her eyes again until she felt the small sting on her forehead.

No more mistakes.

“Oh,” Corbin said, recognition coming to her slowly and fading fast with the rest of her free will. The small device that Stephanie pressed to Corbin’s forehead would only subdue her, but by the time Corbin’s mind returned to the conscious world she would already be strapped to a chair in a Futurum conditioning room.

[subliminalbo]

Okay, elephant in the room? I was an Alpha.

Right now you're thinking "this stupid, little, blonde bimbo is soooo addicted to serving that she went out and got herself brainwashed again." But this is just research, honest! Corbin says that research is the most important part of journalism. You can't write about mindless whores without becoming one yourself!

I was basically already Corbin Arroyo's biggest fan when she joined us in the Alphas house. It was pretty crowded by that point, but I managed to get a turn on her during the conditioning. I can still taste her on my lips, still hear her whimper when my tongue glided over her clit. And I remember how powerful I felt driving my idol to such a point of pure ecstasy that she totally lost her mind—with the help of the visor over her eyes, of course. God, I still get so hot just thinking about it.

But, uh, maaaybe don't mention all that to her? I don't want her to think I'm like some crazy fan or something.

The point is that Corbin and I have been through a lot together. The kind of stuff that bonds people together for life. Like, finding a dead body in the woods. You can't talk about that to everybody.

So I'm working for her now. Or I will be, once I prove myself with a big scoop.

Corbin's been playing it cool. She says stuff like, "I'm not looking for a partner right now" and "please stop texting me." (She's so funny!) I thought tracking her number down would be enough to convince her, but she's really testing me. I needed something big.

Everyone knows River City is filthy with corruption and vice. I figured that if I hung around the motel district long enough I'd stumble upon some kind of scandal to write about, so I checked into the Gilead Hotel. It seemed as good a place as any to do my research. Don't let the fancy name fool you, it's a total dump. I got a good deal on the room though, must have been the cute girl rate.

"Say," I said to the kid with the splotchy beard at the front desk. "Where can a girl find some work around here?"

"Work?" he repeated in a low, quavering sort of voice. "Like...work work?"

"What other kind of work is there?" I giggled.

The poor kid seemed conflicted when he paid me his $250. It was probably a whole paycheck for him, but I wasn't going to discount myself for his sake. I blew him in the break room. It was a little space with wood paneling and crusty green carpet that scraped against my knees. The folding chair creaked beneath him as I rolled my tongue over the head of his cock.

I didn't have much of a taste for this kind of thing before I was an Alpha, but blowjobs were a skill that Madison considered as essential as eating pussy. I put my Alpha training to good use, teasing him with my tongue until he whimpered like Corbin, then I slurped down his shaft in slow, deep gulps, increasing my speed with each repetition. I took him the rest of the way with my hand and finished him off in my mouth, swallowing every drop of his warm cum with a dopey little smile.

"Fu-ck," his voice cracked.

I was so horny when we were finished that I would have let him fuck me, but that was another $750, and I was seriously worried that he would dip into the till. There were more johns in River City with deeper pockets anyway.

Shit, this is bad journalism, isn't it? You want to know how I got brainwashed again to begin with. To be honest, that part's a little fuzzy. I remember I was prowling campus for my big scoop when I met this stranger. Suddenly, I'm handcuffed in some dark room and the stranger's saying, "You are a mindless whore," and I'm like, "No, I'm Tabbie!" But after a few thousand times I started to agree with him.

"I am a mindless whore."

It wasn't a difficult transition for me. Sometimes I miss having a mistress like Madison, but I can hear the power in my Master's voice. I've never seen his face. He sets me up with johns over the phone. I sit around my room at the Gilead Hotel (I never left!) watching TV and waiting for him to call. When the phone rings, my mind goes all fuzzy again and all I can think about are big, fat cocks in my cute, wet pussy.

Master has a few more girls with their own rooms at the hotel and on days off we lounge around the pool and talk about being mindless whores and sucking cocks and stuff.

Research! I mean, I can't remember any of the johns' faces and my Master is so clever I'll never catch him, but I do get to wear cute outfits and be a total slut which was just me most days already. Corbin will save me eventually anyway, so I'm enjoying it while I can.

Oh my god. Maybe Master will make Corbin into a cute mindless whore too!

[subliminalbo]

[subliminalbo]

Internal Affairs #1: The Rookie

By the third week, Lydia’s revulsion was turning into arousal. By the third month, she struggled to remember the assignment at all.

I’m a cop, she reminded herself before rolling her hips, sliding down the john’s cock until it was pressed deep up inside her pussy. A soft moan staggered from Lydia’s lips. Again, I am a cop. Hips roll, cock deep, soft moan. I am a cop. Repeat until the john was satisfied.

It was all part of establishing her cover. Nobody would believe Lydia’s work if she didn’t do the work. Why couldn’t she enjoy it too?

I am a cop.

But she wasn’t a cop. Not really. It had once been Lydia’s dream. When she was eleven, two officers visited her class. The man looked like any other cop on the eleven o’clock news: wide shoulders, short cropped hair, carrying all that “fuck your civil rights” privilege with pride. Most of the boys stared at the gun on his hip, waiting for the little shit brave enough to ask, “Have you killed anybody?”

But it was the female cop that Lydia couldn’t take her eyes off of. She respected the children, spoke to them like people. Not like her partner who addressed the class like he was facing a courtroom. She didn’t look like any woman cop that Lydia had ever seen either. She was tall, and a statuesque beauty made her all the more intimidating. The boys only saw the man and the gun, but Lydia saw the looks between the two. How the man would turn to his partner before giving an answer. He only did it a couple of times, but it was enough for Lydia to know who was really incharge. No one had told her a woman could have that kind of power.

But Lydia’s dream of carrying a badge didn’t make it past high school. She ultimately chose a criminal justice degree at Carpenter State University over the police academy. She never expected that it was less of a path to a future, and more of a strange, meandering way back to her dream.

I am a

“...mindless whore,” the john said as she rode him.

Lydia stared down into his eyes. His face twisted between embarrassing expressions as he fought back the inevitable orgasm. The way he grunted his words, it surprised Lydia that the john could even try to talk dirty to her, most of his mental bandwidth allocated to holding out as long as he could. Lydia wasn’t cheap and she only took one shot for each service rendered. Every John wanted it to count.

“Is that how you like it?” Lydia playfully responded. “Young, dumb, blonde bimbos without a thought in their heads?”

The john grunted something back that a generous listener might say sounded like, “Yeah.”

“I am a mindless whore,” Lydia bit her lip. “My mind is just a wet hole aching to be filled by its Master’s cock.”

“Fuck,” the John gasped. “Say it again.”

“I am a mindless whore.”

“Again,” he pleaded.

“I am a mindless whore!”

“Again!”

I am a mindless whore.

Lydia had been applying to law schools when her professor approached her with the opportunity.

Lydia,

I was hoping you could set some time aside in your calendar to meet with a friend of mine from RPD. I think you’ll find it educational. If you’re interested, shoot me over some dates and I’ll set up the meet.

Best,

Dr. Bloom

Lydia met with the friend from RPD the next week in Dr. Bloom’s office. Lieutenant Barbara Keyes sat across from her at Dr. Bloom’s desk. Dr. Bloom briefly introduced Barbara then excused himself to let the two of them talk. Barbara wanted the meeting to feel informal. “Call me Barbara,” she quickly said when Lydia referred to her by her title. But the location betrayed the intention. Not a lot of people knew that Lieutenant Keyes was there.

Lydia did her best Sam Spade, studying the woman across the desk. Mid-thirties to early forties, no ring on her finger. More likely a divorcee than a spinster. A married to the job kind of cop, she figured. But most important was the confidence–Lydia realized as she watched Barbara speak that she carried herself with the same confidence that had first caught her eye all those years ago in her sixth grade glass.

They chatted for a moment about Lydia’s education, Barbara’s background, and quickly found a comfortable place where they were just talking like old friends until Barbara said, “So Charlie tells me you’re his best student."

“Best,” Lydia laughed. “I don’t know about best–”

“I do,” Barbara cut her off. ���I’ve known Charlie a long time and I trust his judgment.”

Lydia sighed, considering her next move, then decided that it was best to just cut through all the bullshit. “So is this a job interview?” she asked.

Barbara sat straight, unmoved by Lydia’s candor. “Lydia, I work in IAD. Do you know what that is?”

“Internal Affairs,” Lydia blinked.

“Unfortunately, I find myself in the position of trusting absolutely no one in the Romero Police Department, which means when it comes to recruits I need to look in unorthodox places.”

“Like Carpenter State,” Lydia said.

“That’s correct.” Barbara nodded. “Now, on top of my position in IAD, I’m also the deputy director of the RPD sex work task force. Since the task force formed two years ago, we’ve managed to clean up much of the areas around Carpenter State, which is a point of emphasis for the commissioner. That being said, River City remains frustratingly impenetrable.”

“I don’t understand,” Lydia said. “So is this a job interview…to go undercover?”

“I need young, female cops,” Barbara said. “But more specifically, I need young, female cops who don’t look like cops.”

Barbara was right. It was unorthodox, even downright unethical. But it was hard for Lydia not to admire the risk she was taking. Barbara Keyes was the kind of woman who valued education over brute force, that’s why she’d turned to Carpenter State for new recruits. And Lydia understood her reasoning too–her dream of becoming a cop came to an abrupt end in high school after a highly public, sweeping police corruption case in Romero upended the department. It had shaken Lydia’s faith in justice, but she couldn’t totally let those values go. If anyone else had come to her with this offer, asked her to play the role of a prostitute as an inexperienced, secret cop? She wouldn’t have just turned them down. She would have blown the fucking whistle. But Barbara was different. Lydia couldn’t stop seeing that cop from sixth grade. For some reason she wanted to do what Barbara asked of her. She had no choice but to accept.

I am a mindless whore.

Lydia always came with the john. That was what made her one of the most popular and expensive whores in River City. She’d been trained that way. She’d been trained that way because it made her a good cop. A good whore was a good cop. But she always seemed to forget about that when she was on top of them, bracing herself against the headboard as her body rocked from the most powerful orgasm she’d ever experienced. It was always better when she was with a john.

They’d leave the money on the small table by the door and before they exited, Lydia would always offer something to keep them thinking about her.

“Your cock felt so good,” she said, dreamy eyes selling the illusion that this fuck was anything more than a transaction. “Next time I’d even let you cum inside my pussy.”

“You do that?” the john smiled.

“Well,” Lydia pondered as if she wasn’t reading a script. “I’d have to charge an extra five grand. Secret menu, you know? High premium for the risky stuff. But it’s worth it for my favorite.”

The john melted as she batted her eyelashes. They never had that kind of money, but goddamn they would fuck anyone over for that opportunity.

Lydia worked tirelessly through the night. Fucking, sucking, even occasionally offering her shoulder to cry on. She didn’t stop until she saw the pale blue light of the morning sky through the hotel room’s yellowing curtains. She took a quick shower, collected the evening’s take into a fat envelope, then flipped through her phone’s camera roll. 

The johns blurred together until they became one universal face. The only way she remembered them was by the pictures. She insisted on snapping a photo of every john’s ID before taking them to the hotel. “For security,” she would innocently say. 

Nobody had been busted by Lydia yet, so why should they suspect that it was anything more than a safety precaution? The johns liked Lydia and they wanted her to feel safe. But truthfully the IDs were part of the operation, one of the few things that actually made her feel like she was a cop. Barbara had been frustratingly vague on the details of her job, but Lydia knew that she was looking for somebody. Many of the johns were cops, and given Barbara’s role at IAD, Lydia assumed that she was trying to catch one of her own. But who?

She never recognized the faces. And try as hard as she could, she couldn’t match the names to them. They were right there next to the pictures, but something made it impossible for her to think of them as anything other than, “john.” The blue-eyed john, the brown-eyed john, the john with the scar next to his lip. Lydia selected the photos from her roll, a dozen for this night, and forwarded them in an email before deleting them from her phone forever.

Why had she done that? The details of her night’s work were better off with someone who understood it. No reason to burden herself with that knowledge anymore.

Before she could finish dressing, the room's phone rang. She was reluctant to pick it up, but the mechanical sound of the old fashioned landline phone drew her toward it. Something is wrong, she thought. I shouldn’t answer this.

It rang again, and she was powerless. Lydia lifted the receiver from its cradle and pressed it to her ear.

I am a cop.

“Good morning, Lydia,” the voice on the line said.

I am a cop.

“Good morning,” she slowly replied.

I am a

“I trust the evening was productive.”

I am a

“Yes…” she breathed.

I am

“And the IDs?”

I am

“I forwarded them to your email,” she said.

I

“Good,” the voice said. “And the night’s take?”

I

“Twenty-four grand.”

I am a mindless whore.

“That’s very good, Lydia,” the voice replied. “You know where to drop it off.”

Everything Lydia believed she was evaporated at the tinny sound of the telephone’s ring. By the time she heard the voice speak, that Lydia was already gone, replaced with the mindless whore she’d been trained to be. And she was one of the best in River City. She couldn’t fight that truth no matter how hard she tried to lie to herself. It felt too good.

“Tell me what you are, Lydia,” the voice commanded.

“I am a mindless whore,” Lydia said without hesitation. Speaking it out loud now drove her to the edge of another orgasm.

“That’s right,” the voice said, “And that’s all you’ll ever be.”

[subliminalbo]

Quick Hits #10: Remote Training

Shelby hated work from home. It was hard enough writing a dissertation while teaching a class of undergrads, but to do it all from her safe space was absolutely suffocating.

There was one positive to living in the remote world: she now had more opportunities to make extra money while working on her doctorate. Shelby was never starving, but the university only offered her a small stipend for teaching. When she saw the ad for part-time remote work at Futurum, an applied science and technology development firm in Romero, Shelby took the leap.

She hated it immediately. What was she thinking, shoveling more work onto her plate?

But after a few months putting in a handful of hours a day, she found her interest in the role overtaking her own work at the university. She'd begun volunteering for extra hours, and by month four she had accepted a position as a full-time associate for the summer.

Shelby couldn't explain it. Suddenly her work at Futurum felt more important than anything else in her life. She was ready to give herself over completely to it—even though when she logged off her computer every day, she couldn't even say what it was she'd done for eight hours. All she knew was that she felt good.

Being productive felt so good.

But Shelby was stretching herself thin. The school year was inching closer, and she wasn't willing to surrender her lifelong passion for education to some random research that would probably be weaponized by the US government.

Shelby logged on that morning prepared to deliver her two week's notice, but she was surprised to find that a meeting had been added to her schedule overnight. When she hopped into the meeting, Shelby was greeted by a familiar strobe of lights and a piercing sound, followed by a request to repeat. Repeat what?

Shelby didn't need to ask. She was already empty, mouthing words that looped in her mind before saying out loud her sequence: "Echo. Data breach. Whale. Dictaphone. Groundbreaking. Clockwork. Omega."

She stared forward blankly forward into the camera, awaiting further instruction. Her manager hopped on soon after. Clean cut, well-dressed—not at all like the managers of the dozen other upstart companies around Romero. A second member joined the call with their camera off.

"Thanks for joining me today," her manager said with that air of corporate indifference that so many suits at Futurum had adopted.

"Please state your identification for me."

"Shelby Irving," she said. "Test Subject No.14."

"That's good," her manager said. "And how do you feel, No. 14?"

"I feel nothing," No. 14 replied. "Why is that?" "I await further instruction, Controller."

"Very interesting stuff, Curtis." the other party on the call said.

"We've been working tirelessly around the clock on the Conditioning Initiative. You can see it's paying dividends."

"Sure," the mysterious party said. "But let's try it out in a less controlled environment next. Until we know it works in the wild, this is just a party trick."

"Of course, sir," Curtis nodded. "What about No. 14?"

"Cut her loose, but keep her conditioning. We'll have use for these test subjects in the future."

Shelby continued to stare forward, patiently and mindlessly awaiting her instruction.

[subliminalbo]

Minds of Romero #3: The Goddess' Army

Goddesses (4.8 stars) is a small gym located a few blocks from College Ave, the main road that runs through Carpenter State University. It sits in a small plaza wedged between a Domino’s Pizza (2.3 stars) and one of the last EB Games (3.9 stars) in the United States. Despite its modest exterior, Goddesses is popular with both Carpenter State students seeking to drop their freshman fifteen and bored Stoker trophy wives trying to stay fit for their wealthy husbands. Goddesses was founded by Liza Mars (pictured left) and Felicity Cooke (pictured middle), Carpenter State alumni and former college roommates who shared a vision of an all-female fitness center where healthy goals and body positivity are the priority. Word of mouth was good to Goddesses in the early days, but even as business was booming, a relationship between old friends was starting to turn.

Liza From the beginning, Liza was the face of Goddesses. Fun, charismatic, and wildly outgoing, Liza was a popular face on the floor and a force in recruiting new members. The division of labor was simple: Felicity maintained the business while Liza built the brand. But as her own social media presence took off, Liza grew bigger than Goddesses. She was something of an influencer now. More than an athletic trainer—she rebranded herself as a fitness guru.

Liza left Felicity to run the business while she traveled on the company’s dime. It started when she confessed her curiosity in holistic medicine and spiritual remedies to a gym member. Susan Lucas didn’t fit the profile of their average member—the mid-fifties mother of two was an accomplished publisher working for Carpenter State press with little free time on her hands—but she was just the right person to feed Liza’s growing curiosity. Susan confessed to her that she was overseeing an overhaul of Carpenter State’s intranet, building a comprehensive catalog of all literature, textbooks, film, and research in the CSU library.

“You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve read,” Susan laughed between reps at the weight bench.

“Watch yourself,” Liza said as she spotted above Susan. She was in a minor state of disbelief how much this fifty year-old woman could bench. “God,” she added. “I’d love to take a look at some of that research.”

“Oh, you can!” Susan said between breaths. “The Carpenter State Digital Library Initiative is a public resource. All you need is to access a computer on campus. Of course, it’s the content on the private server that’s really interesting.” “Private server?” “Sensitive research that our friends in the office of university compliance have deemed unsuitable for public eyes. You need clearance to access that stuff.”

“Like a…need to know kind of thing?” Consider Liza hooked.

What seemed like a simple favor from a thankful member spiraled beyond anything anybody could have imagined. Over the next several weeks, Liza began researching at the Carpenter State University Library. A couple of odd hours here and there became tireless nights sitting in front of an outmoded computer sifting through old research, newspaper clippings, even student theses. With the help of Susan’s password, she was able to go deeper into the secure server of the intranet, consuming information that few had ever seen before.

Her sudden departure took everyone by surprise, not the least of which was her partner, Felicity, who was growing tired of her best friend’s absence. But Liza insisted that she’d stumbled onto something big. Bigger than herself, bigger than Felicity, bigger than even Goddesses.

“This is old world stuff, Fel,” she said. “Bringing it back here will change everything.” “I don’t even know what that means!” Felicity protested.

But Liza wouldn’t take no for an answer. The next day she booked a flight to Krasnoyarsk Krai.

Felicity Felicity was at her wits end when Liza announced her trip to Russia. “Old world stuff” sounded an awful lot like, “a chance to pose in front of an old ass building for my Instagram fans.”

No. Felicity knew that she had to stamp those thoughts out. When this thing became public, when people learned of the rift between her and her old friend, Liza’s fans would immediately accuse jealously torpedoing their business. And sure, she definitely was a little jealous. But Felicity refused to let herself feel anything other than professional concern.

At first her suspicions felt justified as Liza posed across Europe on Instagram to a chorus of “slay queens” in the comments. But as the weeks dragged on, Liza’s feed dropped off. It wasn’t that she’d stopped posting on her social media pages, Felicity couldn’t even get Liza on the phone. When she failed to show up for an important conference call with a Romero investor, it was the final straw. Felicity began her plans to arrest full control of the business from Liza as soon as she returned. She hired lawyers, drafted a new business strategy, even hired a locksmith to change the locks on the gym.

But before Felicity could set her plan into motion, she arrived to the gym one morning to find Liza waiting for her in the office. Staring at her old friend, Felicity realized that she couldn’t go around Liza’s back. She had to tell it to her straight. But Liza wasn’t interested in anything Felicity had to say.

“I understand,” she said. “But Fel, trust me, you need to see this.” “I don’t care about your old world bullshit, Liza!” Felicity protested. “Ever since you hooked up with that crazy Susan bitch you’ve left me holding the bag.” “But it’s all for something bigger, babe.” Liza said. “Fuck you, Liza!” Felicity cried. “This was our dream. Our dream. And you’re going to throw it all away for a few thousand likes?”

Liza shook her head. “It’s not about the likes. Please, just listen.”

Reaching into her bag, Liza pulled out a small glass case, a cube no bigger than a jewelry box. She placed it flat on Felicity’s desk.

Felicity really didn’t have time for her holistic bullshit. She was prepared to escort Liza out, to call the locksmith in early, but a glimmer in the glass case caught her eye.

“Do you see?” Liza asked. Her eyes seemed to sparkle in tandem with the glass. “What is it?” Felicity asked, her anger seeping out of her body as if drained by the object sitting in front of her.

It took her a moment to even register that there was something encased in the glass. The way the light caught the stone’s sharp angles, bouncing off in all directions, created an optical illusion that made it appear to glow with all the colors of the rainbow. As she looked closer, concentrating on its eerie glow, Felicity felt like it was more than an illusion. That the colors were pulsating. A soft and steady rhythm, a heartbeat. The stone was alive.

“What I’ve been searching for,” Liza smiled. “A shard from the Tunguska meteorite.”

“A meteorite,” Felicity repeated. Her initial response was more anger—that Liza would jeopardize everything they’d built in Romero for a piece of space rock. But those feelings were swallowed up by the stone the moment she felt them, leaving her words hanging in empty space.

“So much more,” Liza sighed. She stepped forward and popped the top of the small case, taking the shard between her thumb and forefinger. She offered it to her friend. Moving on instinct now, Felicity took the cool stone in her hand.

Not just cool. The smooth, black stone was every sensation that Felicity could imagine. Cool, hot, wet, dry, funny, sad, arousing. She was overwhelmed by its power, losing herself in its touch. The thoughts in her head were shifting, words mutating beyond a language she understood. Something ancient, something somehow older than time.

Standing there in her office, studying this stone resting in the palm of her hand, Felicity came to understand why Liza had grown so consumed by chasing the stone. Liza stepped forward, placing her hand on Felicity’s shoulder. When she spoke again, her words took the form of the same, indecipherable language. Felicity understood every word.

“The end is near, Felicity.” She said. “The Goddess demands an army for the coming war.”

Felicity blinked, her eyes shining bright now, cool and reflective under the dim neon of her office lights. She spoke too in the strange language now. “Yes, Liza. I accept my place in Her army. I will be a soldier to the end.”

“We will build Her army here,” Liza said. “Yes,” Felicity replied. “We have the numbers. We shall build Her army in Her image.”

And that was how Felicity, who had once been Liza’s biggest critic, became her first convert.

Corrine Corrine (pictured right) was among Goddesses’ first members and in the years since its opening it had become a home away from home, a place to clear her head after a long day working at the dance studio. The women there became family. Though she felt dumb admitting it, the hardest part of her pregnancy was the time away from them. Though she stayed in contact with her gym girlfriends at first, her body image began to dip around the second trimester and she simply couldn’t be around them anymore. Not until the baby was here.

Still, she watched from a distance as her friends posted exciting updates from Goddesses. They were more vocal than ever about fitspiration, adopting new language, calling themselves “soldiers” and “warriors.” Corrine assumed that it was a new fitness movement, and she was disappointed to be left out of it. She feared how much a gym could change in a few months.

Those six months crawled by so slowly, but when it was all over, she was ready and eager to return to Goddesses. It wasn’t simply that she wanted to work off her pregnancy weight, she just wanted to see her old friends again. Goddesses itself hadn’t changed much in the months since she’d been a regular, but the culture was a complete shock. Liza and Felicity, for example, were more hands on than they’d been before she left. In the past they occasionally wandered the gym making small talk with members, but rarely took an active role in training. Now Liza was teaching a course in self-defense, odd close quarters contact techniques that she claimed to have been developed in the old world. Meanwhile, Felicity led classes of Mantra Cycling. Long, exhausting hours of peddling and repeating the phrases flashing on the television screen in front of the cyclers.

“I am a warrior. My body is an instrument of the goddess. It is my duty to perfect it.”

At first, Corrine laughed at the odd changes. She stuck to herself, stepping into the gym each afternoon, moving passed the Mantra Cycling classroom and the newly installed dojo to an empty row of exercise bikes, choosing her favorite workout tunes over that awful, droning ambiance that had replaced the typically upbeat music over the PA.

“I’m just not feeling it anymore,” Corrine said to her friend Stacy one afternoon in the locker room. “What do you mean?” Stacy asked. “I mean like…I’m already stretched thin with the baby and I could use the extra money…” “You mean you’re going to cancel your membership?” Stacy crossed her arms and flipped her hair in a dramatic gesture of disbelief.

“It’s just that so much has changed, Stacy,” Corrine continued. “I feel like everyone’s left me behind.”

“You’re not even trying Corrine,” Stacy protested. “You haven’t even sat in on a session of Mantra Cycling.” “That’s it, Stacy. That’s my point. This whole place went from the coolest fitness center in Romero to a cult in like six months. I’m worried about you. I’m worried about everyone.”

Stacy blinked, her face suddenly blank. Conditioned to defend her goddess from all threats, she couldn’t let Corrine leave this locker room.

“What are you doing?” Corrine demanded as Stacy pulled her into a headlock, pressing her body against the cold metal of the locker. She tried to fight back, tried to jam herself free from Stacy’s arms but her friend had bulked up since the last time they worked out together.

“Don’t fight me, Corrine,” Stacy said calmly. “I’m taking you to Felicity’s office. That is where you’ll see.”

The next day, Corrine returned to goddesses with a new perspective. She entered the glass doors separating the classroom from the rest of the gym and took her seat on an exercise bike, eager for her first day of Mantra Cycling. Her first day as a soldier for the Goddess.

Corrine is just one of many Romero women who have been corrupted by Goddesses. Though membership has plummeted in recent months, Liza and Felicity are motivated by a force far greater than money. Slowly they build their army, preparing for a war foretold by voices beyond time.

[subliminalbo]

Minds of Romero #2: Dana at Your Service

One of Sonya Serrano's most popular girls, Dana's first hypnotic encounter occurred long before she was recruited to work at Marjorie's. As a student at Carpenter State University, Dana tended bar at The Lone Pine to pay her way through college. Though her regulars were mostly off the clock lumberjacks and factory workers, her time there took a bizarre turn when she arrived to her shift one evening to find the joint closed down and her boss, Wendy, taking orders from Madison Wells. Dana tried to escape, but was cornered by a couple of Madison's Alphas. Dana wasn't present that evening for the fateful confrontation between Corbin Arroyo and Madison Wells. Instead, she was in the Alphas basement, subjugated to the same VR helmet conditioning that all of Madison's Alphas went through.

Unlike most of her slaves, Madison released Dana from the Alphas house to return to her regular life, having no memory of her encounter at The Lone Pine. Fragments of her conditioning remained, however, ensuring the Madison had loyal slaves outside of the sorority. When the Alphas collapsed, Dana and Wendy played major roles in Madison's escape from University justice, hiding her away in the apartment above the bar until they could arrange for safe passage out of town.

Dana was later discovered by Sonya. Wendy's preference for bar tenders with big tits and tight shirts had made The Lone Pine a lucrative spot for scouting new hires. Sonya recognized Dana's value immediately, and after a couple of drinks and some casual conversation, she offered the young woman a position at Marjorie's on the spot. Dana was skeptical, of course. Her experience at The Lone Pine would make serving at Marjorie's a natural transition. But Marjorie's girls were expected to do more than tend bar. Sonya was honest with Dana. She wanted her because she was hot, and she was too hot not to put to work fucking her important clients. "Place like this?" Sonya said. "Sure, the tips are nice, but the money you'll make at my club in just one year will pay off your student loans in full."

It was true. Girls were always going to work at Marjorie's to pay off their debt, and Sonya was happy to let them go whenever they wanted. It never seemed to be difficult for her to recruit new girls anyway. Sonya's eyes seemed to glow as Dana spoke with her across the bar. Dana didn't have a chance. Just one glance into those eyes, and her soul belonged to Sonya. Her apprehension began to fade away. She found peace in the idea of being used by strangers.

"Everyone calls me Madam Sonya," her new boss said. "But you'll call me Mistress."

"Yes, Mistress Sonya," Dana replied, eager to begin her new life.

A year has passed since their first encounter, and though Dana has earned enough to pay off her debt and live comfortably, she's far too happy to ever dream of leaving Marjorie's.

[subliminalbo]

Minds of Romero #1: Madam Sonya

Once an aspiring business major, Sonya Serrano caught the interest of Mina Carpenter after accepting an internship within the office of recruiting at Carpenter State. At first, Sonya thought her invitation to dinner with Mina was a great opportunity to network. Mina had her hands in several business ventures around town and her name alone could get Sonya an interview with any one of them. But Sonya quickly learned that Mina had a specific business in mind for her: an offer she literally couldn't refuse.

Marjorie's is an open secret around Romero, an institution even. Though on its surface a gentleman's club, for decades the women of Marjorie's have serviced their guests, male and female alike, in the club's private VIP rooms. As its new madam, Sonya would be in charge of recruiting, training, and managing her stable of girls. Turnover tends to be high, but that's expected from a largely student base of employees—women looking for short-term work to cover living expenses during the school year. Though Sonya had her objections to running a brothel, Mina found her mind as pliable as any other's. By the end of their dinner, Sonya had sworn her mind, body, and soul to her new Mistress and happily accepted the job.

Imbued with Mina Carpenter's powers, Sonya has the ability to shape minds to her liking. This is a useful skill when recruiting and dealing with stubborn cops. The energy produced in Marjorie's in just one week is enough to keep Mina young for half a century, but Sonya plays an important role for Mina as one of her primary brokers of information. Marjorie's has several powerful regulars from city councilmen to notable business leaders. Word is that Sonya herself is a personal favorite of Dean Pierce's. With the information that Sonya cultivates from her guests, Mina holds Romero in the palm of her hand.

[subliminalbo]

Don't say a word. I already know what you're thinking.

'How?' I thought I told you not to speak! You're not used to having a Master, are you? We'll have to work on that before you're ready for Him.

But I guess I can make an exception for you. I already know what you're thinking, Sam, because I am you. At least I'm a part of you.

You're really going to waste the little time we have together on a question like that? Maybe Master doesn't have to work too hard to make you dumb.

I'm the part of you who's already surrendered. I know, you hate dream sequences, but there's a part like me inside of everybody. And there's a lot of me inside of you.

Can you feel Him inside your mind? Reshaping your world? He's already making changes here. I don't remember this TV being here before. Master has a thing for nostalgia. He wants to put the world back the way it was, the way he remembers it. You know what I mean: when you could set your weekly schedule around network TV, when sugar didn't taste like chemicals, when all the lawns were freshly cut, when the women obeyed the men.

Don't ask me where He got that last one. It sounds kind of hot though doesn't it? So, let's see what's on TV tonight.

Ooohh I love this show! This is the episode where Master makes us his obedient slave. Look at you right now, sinking deeper into His power.

"Fuck, I...oh God, fuck! What are you doing to me?"

That's you right now, honey, you don't know it yet but you're just begging to be another one of his brainwashed neighbors. He usually likes a little more fight in his slaves, but I know you've been through this a few times already and Master is the strongest mind controller in town so why wouldn't you crumble before His power?

"So powerful...what are you...what's happening?"

I guess Mina thought she was being clever sending you to investigate the things happening around this neighborhood. She should have come here herself. Maybe she would have stood a chance against Master, but one of her brainless thralls? I promise, you'll find living under the Master to be far more rewarding.

"Stop...mmm...get out of my head..."

So why don't you surrender completely, honey? Why don't you accept your fate, and join His little community? Master's world is a perfect world where we can all serve His vision. Wouldn't you like that?

"...yes...obey you...completely..."

I don't even know why I bother asking. You lost this fight the minute you came here. I'm just here to get you ready.

"I'll do anything, Master. I exist for your vision, for your pleasure. Please use me, Master."

Welcome to Stoker, Sam. You're going to love it here.