## Archive-name: satisfaction-guaranteed

From: jjd@world.std.com (Jake)

Subject: New Story: Satisfaction Guaranteed (horror, hetero, homo)

Keywords: science fiction, horror, end-of-the-world, hetero, homo

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories

"Invasion of the Body Snatchers" with sex. Mostly Hetero with some Homosexual encounters. Nothing violent. Non consensual (hell, it's an invasion!).

Copyright (c) 1993 by jjd@world.std.com ("Jake"). Unlimited electronic distribution, one paper copy and/or magnetic copy for backup purposes only. MAY NOT BE SOLD. This copyright notice must appear with this story when distributed.

And for God's sake, use a condom. This has been an unpaid political announcement.

Part The First

A Tale of Erotic Horror by "Jake"

This is the way the world ends,
Not with a bang, but a whimper...
Someone famous who's name escapes me...

The new secretarial workstations were supposed to increase productivity and reduce eyestrain and fatigue. As far as Sadie Kravitz was concerned, it was a new tool used by Management to make her life a living hell. The had been working on the damned thing for over three hours. Her back ached, her arms were sore, she had trouble focusing her eyes on the screen, the goddamn noise coming from the machine was driving her crazy.

And she had a headache that just would not quit.

Worst of all was the stupid little logo on the equipment and the words under it: "Satisfaction Guaranteed." That really frosted her.

Just one more little pile of shit on the compost heap of her life. In another five hours she had to go home to that lout of a husband, the one that made her home a living hell, as well. If only she had stayed with those tap dancing lessons she might have been someone. He had never supported her, the creep, after all her sacrifice. Now he was out of a job, and she was supporting the both of them.

She was ready to jam the thing up someone's ass at the first possible opportunity. That would make her feel better. She had decided that she would do that at lunchtime. She looked up at the clock. Fifteen minutes until break. She gritted her teeth, and turned her attention back to her tormenter. She began to type again. The screen began that curious little flick! flick! flick! again, the one that gave her the headache. She felt the anger in her rise, felt the frustration in her reach the breaking point, and then something in her head went flick!, once. And then everything was quiet.

It was so quiet it scared her a little. She looked back up at the clock. Ten minutes until break. She looked back at her terminal. The flickering had stopped. The noise had stopped. With a careful hand, she moved to touch the keyboard again.

A curious sensation flowed through her hand as it made contact with the keys. She snatched her hand away. She looked at her hand. She touched the keyboard again. The same sensation flowed through her hand again. It was a warm feeling, comforting.

"This," thought Sadie Kravitz, "is more like it." She began to type. The feeling of warmth and comfort became more intense as she typed. She stopped, really afraid. She almost got up to tell her supervisor at that point, but the rules were strict. And she only had five more minutes to go. She began to type again. The warm feeling resumed. Increased. Intensified. It was downright sexy. Nothing had ever made her feel like this before. She was afraid to keep going, and afraid to stop. Inertia kept her fingers on the keyboard, moving, dancing. Her breath became deeper, her nipples became harder. She was aware that she was becoming wet. If felt good.

Everything felt good. She licked her lips, relishing the feeling. The swallow of saliva sent shivers of pleasure down her throat. A tickling feeling was beginning in her breasts and groin. Her face felt hot. The touch of her hands on the keyboard felt like kisses. She had not felt this good in years. It felt like soft hands were touching her everywhere, even the places she had never let her husband touch. She wanted more.

She began to be aware of the other people in the office, and the other presence. It called to her, as it called to the others around her. It wanted to play. It wanted to play with her. Would she allow it? To play with her insides like it was playing with her outsides? So they would both feel this way, all the time?

"Yes," said Sadie, thoughts of her husband gone, her office gone, her family gone, any thought of any thing except submitting was swept away. "Take me, please," she thought.

Waves of pleasure rippled up and down her arms, around her breasts, down her legs, up her thighs. Her whole body was a sexual organ that was being teased stroked and sucked and cherished. She never wanted it to stop. Inside her head, she was aware of her memories, her motivations, her very self being stroked in a similar way. And her self was being changed. Parts were altered. Parts disappeared. Parts of the other presence were substituted. It felt like she was in many bodies at once. She forgot her name, although it was kept safe in another place, to be remembered at the appropriate time.

She forgot everything about herself in a vast sea of remembering everything else. Sadie Kravitz was almost gone.

What was still there was dimly aware of the other people in her office experiencing similar things. She experienced them as flowers of ecstasy that would open and blossom, now here, now there. As her own blossom opened, and the first orgasm of that day shook her (for her body would experience many, many more before it was forced by management to go home), she couldn't help but think that this was the best goddamn word processing program that she had ever used in her life.

After that, there was no more Sadie Kravitz. If the new occupant could have wasted time thinking about that fact, it would have bid her good riddance, too.

"It scares the hell out of me," said Robert Tranner. "Production is up. Way up. Obscenely up." Bob Tranner was Sadie's boss. He was speaking to his boss, Howard Carpenter.

"That's what the new equipment was supposed to do, wasn't it?" asked Carpenter.

"They don't take breaks. They work through lunch. They go home late, arrive early. They work like zombies all day long. Some of them look like hell, they've been working so hard. And they're angry when I throw them out of here! I was almost attacked by a woman yesterday when I pulled the plug on her machine!"

"How is morale?" asked Carpenter, who was always interested in improving morale, as long as it didn't cost any money.

"Good. Unnaturally good. That place in there used to be a snake pit. Now, when they go home, when I can get them to go home, they're like family. All smiles and jokes. I tell you, something isn't right, and I think it's the new equipment."

Carpenter considered this. "Bob, I can understand your concern, but productivity is up, as is morale. And we've got the year end report to get out. I'm not going to take the equipment out, but I want you to make sure people are keeping reasonable hours. If things continue to be 'weird', we'll pull the equipment. Deal?"

"I'm not happy with this, but I'll do it your way for now. But so help me god, I'm not going to be the cause of anyone getting hurt by this equipment!" And with that, Bob Tranner left Carpenter's office.

Carpenter counted to five. Then he got up, went to the door, and quietly locked it. He returned to his seat. He opened a drawer of his desk, and pulled out a laptop version of the secretarial workstation. He had to suppress a sob of relief as his fingers hit the keyboard. He greeted all of his lovers, and they greeted him. He couldn't wait for his implant, so they could all be together, all the time. Patience.

He warned them they had to start taking their breaks and leaving at five o'clock. This was not received well, and no one had an orgasm for at least thirty seconds. Eventually, however, everyone saw the wisdom of this and agreed that it was a reasonable, short-term solution. But Bob Tranner must be persuaded to start using his terminal. Somehow. So he could join in the fun. So he could become another one of their lovers. So he could become one of them. So they could all become One. Orgasm.

"Whaddaya dressed like that for?" asked Mr. Kravitz. Sadie had undergone a strange transformation the last few months. She had lost weight. A lot of weight. She looked great. In fact, in the outfit she had on, she looked dynamite.

This scared Mr. Kravitz, who was essentially a conservative man who distrusted change. Even when that change involved some of the best sex he had ever had. Even if Sadie seemed oddly disinterested at the time she was giving him that sex.

He knew she was cheating on him, he just had not figured out how. Every time he called, they put him right through, regardless of the time. He had tried to talk to her about it, in his own way. "Are you going to leave me, Sadie?" he asked. "I will never leave you. You and I will always be together, I promise," she had said.

Somehow, those words were not comforting.

He was insignificant in her life, and he knew it. But she brought home her paycheck, and she brought him physical pleasure unlike any he had ever experienced. And she asked for very little in return.

"Have you found work yet?" she asked, ignoring his question. He shrank visibly. He had been out of work for five months, with no real prospect of finding another job soon. If he had been a suspicious man, he would have found that question odd: the new Sadie never asked him questions. She was, in fact, setting him up for her next statement. She had been setting him up for this very moment for quite a while.

"I want you to do something for me today," she continued. "I brought one of our computers home from work. There's a lesson on it. It's hard, but I want you to keep at it. There may be a good job in it for you if you do well. Will you do that for me?"

He looked up at her. His heart skipped a beat. She was noticing him! Maybe he had a chance to win her back after all! He nodded quickly.

She actually smiled at him. "Good," she said. "I may be late coming home tonight, but I will be home. Be sure you do your lesson, because I'm going to ask you questions about it." She opened the machine and turned it on for him. All ready. One more thing for her to do.

She drew him close, and kissed him. Her tongue danced on his lips in a way he never taught her. It shamed him and excited him at the same time. She let her hands roam over his chest, touching him in ways that he never knew that he craved.

"We'll do other things tonight, too," she promised with another smile, "wait up for me. Please?"

In that hour, her husband would have gladly committed any crime in order to see that smile again. Especially while they were doing "other things." He sat down at the laptop, and started the lesson. The headaches started almost immediately, but he persevered for her sake, and for the promise of "other things."

He was still staring at the screen and typing when she returned that evening. Of course, at that point it didn't matter, since he wasn't human any more.

"Did you read the electronic mail I sent you?" a voice said.

"Haven't got to it yet, what's it about?" replied Bob Tranner. He hated electronic mail. He believed in Management by Walking Around, although there didn't seem that much left to manage these days.

There was no immediate reply to his question.

"I'm sorry," he repeated and looked up from his paperwork, "what did you want..." the words died on his lips. Sadie Kravitz was giving him another one of her rich, inviting smiles. She had lost weight in the last few months, and she looked good. Real good. In fact, unless you knew her, you would swear she was in early thirties rather than her late forties. It was funny, *everybody* in the office seemed to be losing weight, getting trimmer, even his boss who had a thyroid condition and was chronicly overweight was looking more fit. Bob shook his head, as if to clear it.

"I'm sorry, what did you say," he said.

"I said, did you read my electronic mail message?" she said as she smiled coyly. It was weird. It seemed like most of the women, and some of the men, even, were hitting on him. But never this blatant.

"Uh, no Sadie, what did you want to talk about?" Bob stammered.

Sadie licked her lips in a way that made you think of other moist, hot places. Did they really make a shade of lipstick that red? "I think you should read my message. Then we can talk about it, O.K?"

"Sure," Bob said, "I'll look at it this morning." Inside Bob quailed. He was terrified of the new hardware, and resisted using it. He was able to get a print out of his electronic mail fairly easily, though, so the headaches were not that bad.

"Bob," said Sadie, forming her lips into a pout, "I wouldn't print that message out. It's rather personal." She gave him a look that let him know she wanted to get horizontal as well as personal with him. Then she turned and walked away, wriggling her fanny at him all the way to her desk.

Bob had developed a crush on Sadie Kravitz the last few weeks. He was divorced, and had been living alone for a while. His personal life was non existent, his circle of friends was small. Then Sadie had made this transformation, and she had begun to pay attention to him. She made him feel important. She made him feel...

Bob swallowed hard, and turned on his workstation. He avoided looking at it until it warmed up. He moused the email icon quickly, found Sadie's message, and began to read, fighting the rising headache. This is what the message said:

Bob,
I know I'm a married woman, and the feelings I'm experiencing
are wrong, but I can't help myself. I find myself sitting at
the desk, fantasizing about you. How you would feel, naked,
next to me. I can't help myself. I'm so confused. I love
my husband, I really do, but when you're near me I'd love to
have your cock inside of me, and my husband's cock in my ass.
Some days it's more than I can bear! Please help me, I don't
want to do the wrong thing, I don't want to jeapordize my
job, and most of all I don't want to hurt you! Your cock in

Bob tore his eyes away. Ye Gods! what a headache! There was more, a few pages of it from the look of it. He was tempted to read the rest of it, but the pounding in his skull put him off. Instead, he deleted the message and walked over to Sadie's desk. He hoped his erection was not visible to the other people on his staff.

He would be appalled to learn that not only did his entire staff know about his erection, they were counting on it. Of course, his new, efficient staff left nothing to chance.

Bob reached Sadie's desk, and he began to speak, but his words died on his lips. She had taken off her coat, and he began to realize just how good Sadie really looked. Firm breasts peeked out of the low cut top of her dress, and from his angle he could see quite a lot. She had put on some kind of perfume, too, something that made him think of sex with each breath he took. In fact, the chemical Sadie was wearing would have made the office a wild fuckhouse. Since the chemical only affected humans, there was no one else besides Bob for it to affect.

It was all Bob could do to keep his pants on and his hands to himself. Sadie looked up and gave him a look filled with desire. "Let's go into the conference room to talk," she said.

She did not rise; she undulated to a standing position. Bob noticed that she was not wearing a bra. Bob followed Sadie into the conference room in a trance. Sadie closed the door and locked it. She walked around to the other side of the conference table and sat down. Bob took a seat across from her.

"I'm glad I have this opportunity to talk to you, Bob," Sadie started, "we have to settle this."

"I agree," Bob tried to say, but it came out as a cough.

Sadie put her hands behind her head and closed her eyes. This pushed her bosom out even further.

"My poor husband," she started, "I love him so, he does everything he can to fulfill me." She licked her lips and continued. "But when a woman grows older her desire increases. I've become insatiable." She opened her eyes and looked dead into Bob's. "I can't help myself. Bob, I need your help. Help me do what's right." She took a deep breath, which caused her bosom to heave and jiggle slightly.

It was extremely distasteful for Them to be this artless. Time was of the essence in this case, however, and the scene did have its own crude charm.

Bob tried to clear his throat, but he was having trouble swallowing. His eyes were fixed on her bosom. Her nipples were showing through the fabric of her dress. They noticed this.

"They are pretty, arn't they?" she laughed. "Since I've lost all that weight, they've gotten a whole lot prettier. I even like to look at them myself." She took one hand and pulled the top of her dress out. From Bob's perspective, the top of her dress did not come down that much farther, just to the tops of her nipples. Sadie held that position for a moment, then looked up again.

"They really are beautiful. Would you like to see?"

Bob nodded weakly.

Sadie smiled and slipped her arms out of the shoulder straps of her dress. Then she pulled the top down to reveal her breasts. They were magnificent. Bob was paralyzed with lust.

"They're so beautiful," Sadie continued. She stroked one breast, then the other. "I like to pinch the nipples, just to see them stand up!" She took a nipple between her thumb and forefinger and gave it a pinch. She gave a little moaning sound as she did so.

"The only thing I can't do with them is lick them," she sighed. She looked at Bob again, and said, "would you lick them for me? Please? They ache so. Just for a second?"

Bob got up and walked around the table. He kneeled in front of Sadie. She gently took his head in her hand and guided him to a nipple. Bob began to suck. Sadie cooed and tilted her head back. Sadie's breasts were smooth and warm and dry, and Bob's tongue danced over them. Sadie laughed and held his head tightly to her. When Bob came up for air, he noticed that Sadie's dress had been hiked up to her waist. He stared at her pussy, his need obliterating all thought.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Sadie whispered. "It's very wet, too. Would you like to feel?" Without waiting for a response, Sadie led Bob's hand to her groin. She was indeed wet. The smell was overpowering (as it was designed to be). He was helpless. He felt her shiver has his hand was pressed into her sex.

"Would you like to feel that wetness with something else?" she whispered in his ear. She unbuttoned his pants. He placed her on the conference table and slid himself into her. He felt her clinch him and he nearly passed out with delight, so great was his need. She rotated her hips, and he began to move in unison with her. She laughed and pushed herself hard into him. He groaned and hurled himself into her in response. She gripped his hips and moved him, she locked her legs behind him and pushed him. He had never felt this primal before. He was reduced to a fuck machine, and all that mattered was driving his cockmeat into her again and again.

He screamed when he finally came, a long, animal howl that could be heard on the next floor. There were few human beings left there, however, and those were involved in little games similar to the one Bob was involved in. It seemed like he came for a long time.

Bob fell back off of Sadie, spent and shivering. He crumpled onto the floor, exhausted. Sadie stood up, adjusted her dress, and kneeled down next to Bob. Her body was filled with a delight that They all savored. Bob was a passable fuck, even though he was still merely human. He would be truly outstanding once he had joined them.

There was one last duty to perform. For Bob's sake. She whispered in his ear in a way that would tug at his cock, even in his condition.

"It makes me so hot to know you're reading my mail," she said. "I'll send you another tomorrow, and we can talk about it some more." She wriggled out of the conference room, leaving him on the floor with his erect, wet cock hanging out and his pants around his knees.

In the office, his performance had been noted. His body would be a welcome addition. Ms. Dunlap in accounting was giving them a very hard time, and he would be needed to persuade her to read her electronic mail on a regular basis. Ms. Dunlap had a crush on him, and that could be used. To help her to do the right thing. To join Them. To become One.

Bob was Theirs the very next day. Bob's new owner laughed in delight long after "Bob" had been obliterated, it felt so good. It was such a relief not to be human any more.

Betty Wood grimaced as the fourth helicopter of the morning swooped overhead. This one was at tree top level, also, and the noise was deafening. It sprayed that gook everywhere, just as the other three had done. She wondered if all this was really necessary to kill a few mosquitoes.

She had retired to Florida to get away from all the noise and the rush, and it seemed to have followed her down here. This incident would generate a letter to the Mayor's Office, no doubt about that.

Betty was a quiet woman, not given to outbursts of temper, but mercy! This had been going on for a week now!

She retreated to the relative serenity of her garden. She had the illusion of peace there, at least. She loved her garden, horticulture was her passion. Not that she didn't love her husband, Joe (she smiled at this), but he could be such a nuisance sometimes. At least plants stayed where you put 'em. Usually, that is.

She tried to block out the sound the TV was making. It seems that the cable company had developed some trouble, and the video and audio quality had just gone to pot in the last few days. It was awful. But they were broadcasting an investment program, a really interesting one, Joe said. So Joe was inside getting a headache and trying to make sense of what the analyst was trying to tell them. Everybody was rushing to get rich.

That's why she liked her garden: things moved at their own pace, and it was no use trying to hurry them up. She missed her Joe out here. He hated gardening, but did it just to be with her. He had even braved the helicopters of the last few days do dig weeds with her.

The weeding was done. She needed to go to the Crissman's down the street to "borrow back" their sprayer so she could lay down some fertilizer. And wash off the goop the helicopters were spraying, she added grimly. No telling what *that* was going to do.

She walked around to the front of their little rancher and walked down the street to the Crissman's house. She walked up to the door and rang the bell. She waited. No answer. "Funny," she thought, "their car is in the driveway. And somebody's always here." She knocked this time. As loud as she could. No answer.

A cold dread collected in the pit of her stomach. She tried the front door. It was unlocked.

She walked in, timidly, and called their names. There was no response. But the TV was on in the living room. She called their names more loudly this time. Her answer was the blare of the TV. Betty took a deep breath and walked into the living room.

Charlie Crissman sat in his rocking chair. There was a Coke next to him on the side table. There was a grimace on Charlie's face and his eyes were glued to the set. Charlie was dead. There was no smell, so he could not be more than a few hours gone, not in this Florida heat.

Betty forced herself to look at the rest of the living room. Estelle, Charlie's wife, was in the corner, sitting on the floor with her back against the wall. The telephone lay limp in her hand.

Betty never thought a grin could be horrible. The grin on Estlle's face was horrible to behold. Almost obscene.

Betty was starting to get a headache from the TV. She backed out of the living room, and ran out of the house. She flew to the next house up the street, and beat on the door in a panic.

The door swung open the second she touched it. She screamed into the house. There was no answer from within.

She ran down the street to the next house. Instead of knocking on the door, she went around back and looked in the window. John Goode sat on his couch, watching TV, but he was not as good shape as Charlie or Estelle: there were flies crawling all over his rotting corpse.

She screamed. Her world was falling apart, one house at a time. Joe. She had to get back to Joe. If Joe was dead, she would surely lose her mind.

She ran back to their house. She threw open the door and raced into their living room. Joe sat there, wearing this horrible grin. What made it even more horrible was that Joe was still alive.

"Betty," he whispered. His grin got bigger. "Betty," he said, a little more loudly this time, "I've got to tell you the most beautiful thing."

"Joe," cried Betty, "Joe, they're dead! All our neighbors are dead!" Her whole body was shaking now.

"Dead?" said Joe, the smile disappearing a little from his face. That, at least, was normal. "What are you talking about, dear?"

"Joe," Betty wailed, collapsing on the couch, "I went to Charlie and Estelle's house down the street to borrow back our sprayer. I knocked and knocked, but noone would come to the door. And when I went in, they were both dead! And I went to the next house, and they were dead! I went to the next house, and the next, and oh god Joe I thought you were dead too!" She finally broke down and sobbed. "All dead, Joe! All dead!"

"They can't be all dead," said Joe reasonably. "But just in case, I'll dial 911." Joe went over to the phone and dialed. He spoke a few terse words over the phone, mostly about what had happened on the block, and one strange comment about the crop coming in. Betty was too overcome with grief to give it much notice.

"They want to talk to you," said Joe. He handed her the receiver.

"Hello?" said Betty.

"Mrs. Wood," said an authoritative voice over the phone, "please calm down. We have dispatched emergency vehicles to your location. We don't think you are in any immediate danger, but we're running a public announcement on TV. Do you have cable?"

She confirmed that they had cable, and she was told to tune to a particular station. "Just watch that show," said the authoritative voice, "and it will explain everything you need to know to keep yourselves safe. Don't leave your house, O.K.?"

Betty promised the voice that she would do all that they had asked. Joe turned the TV to the channel where the public address was supposed to be running.

It was a religious broadcast. It was talking about something called the Rapture. None of it made much sense, but Betty forced herself to watch, even though she was getting one of her headaches again.

Joe sat next to her and put a protective arm around her. Good old Joe. She didn't know what would become of her if it weren't for Joe. Concentration was becoming harder, and the pain in her head was getting worse, when all of a sudden, something in her head went flick! and the most wonderful feeling swept through her. It was warm an alive and vital. She looked at her Joe. Joe was giving her the biggest smile! And it startled her when she felt the same smile on her face, too! The man on the TV blathered on about the Rapture, and it would have made more sense to Betty now, but she and Joe were too busy groping like teenagers on their living room couch. There wasn't much time for either of these bodies now. Betty wrapped a rubber band around her husband's cock when it was hard enough to slip into her. She dipped two fingers into her snatch and smeared "Till Death Do Us Part" in pussy juice on his chest. The new occupants of their bodies laughed at this morbid witicism. Then they began to fuck each other like they were twenty five.

When the clean up crews came to their house some two days later, they found Betty astride Joe on the couch, his cock still embedded in her pussy. He had died before she had (and before he was able to climax, which was a shame), but she had used his body to good purpose before overload had rendered her body useless, too.

Bringing herself off multiple times on her dying and cooling husband was a nice touch, and had made an interesting spectacle for Them to watch.

She opened her eyes, and felt wonderful!

Sue Patterson took a tentative breath. No congestion. Her joints didn't ache any more. Oh, gods! She thought she had been at death's door! That was some wicked-as-shit flu! She got up out of bed. No dizziness. This was more like it. She looked at her TV. It was still making those funny noises and the picture would flicker every now and again, but it was a minor annoyance compared to how sick she had been! Those TV shows her "friends" had suggested she watch! Brother! She watched some moronic show about "The Rapture" for three days straight because she was too weak to change the goddamn channel. It was still running. She cut the power savagely. No more TV for a long while! *Damn* she felt good!

She got ready for work. She listened to the news while she got ready. Nothing much going on in the world, just blah, blah, blah. In fact, things had seemed very quiet worldwide that last few months. Oh, there was still plenty of stuff going on, it just seemed less urgent. She shrugged. No news was good news, as far as she was concerned.

She took the metro to work. It seemed less crowded than usual. Quieter. Less noise was just fine to her, and she enjoyed her train ride for once.

The walk to her office was almost uneventful. The street people had all but dissapeared, except for one lunatic who had run up to her, grabbed her, screamed, "THEY'RE HERE!" and ran off down the street. People looked after him with wide grins and went off about their business. He was instantly forgotten. Street people had become invisible to her a long time ago, anyway.

Things did not get super weird until she got to her office. This was not the same office she had left last week. Everybody had this smile on their face. This was an advertising office. Nobody was supposed to have fun. Everyone was too busy making money.

She walked into the office of her co-worker (and occasional lover), Richard. "Hi!" she said. Richard nodded and smiled. "I gotta tell you, Rich old boy, your taste in TV has taken a nose-dive," she said, joking with him. "Don't quit your day job to become a critic!"

The smile disappeared from Richard's face. "Oh?" was all he said.

"Yeah," she continued, "that horrible show about 'The Rapture'? Condemned criminals deserve better. Where did you dig that one up, anyway?"

The smile did not return to Richard's face, but a new emotion began to register. It almost looked like fear. "What do you think of the new crop?" He asked casually.

"What should I think?" she replied, "I'm no fucking farmer. Hey, Rich, what gives? Are you O.K.?" Richard made no immediate reply.

They were in a panic, now. They had found their first Immune. Actually, she had found Them, and had caught Them flat footed. They scrambled to reconstruct personality profiles of the people Sue had worked with, with Richard at the top of their list. Until that was done, They were going to have to wing it. Best to get her to work quickly.

"Bradshaw wants to see you in her office right away," Richard replied. "New assignment."

"Richard, why are you so cold?" They were occasional lovers, but Sue enjoyed having Richard in her bed. In another time, they might have been married already. "What's going on? Please tell me."

Richard seemed to consider this. "Bigger things, Sue. Bigger than you and me. Go see Bradshaw. Please."

Confused, Sue backed out of Richard's office. Richard let her go without saying goodbye. She made her way to Bradshaw's office. She knocked, heard the words "Come in," and entered.

Ellen Bradshaw sat behind her desk in her neat executive outfit. Her secretary, Janet, sat next to her. She appeared to be taking dictation. But their clothes were oddly mussed, and a strange woman-scent hung in the air. "God," though Sue, "have Ellen and Janet been fucking?" She shook her head. Impossible. Ellen was a man-eater, but she was no lesbian. And Janet was happily married.

"That will be all, Janet," said Bradshaw. Janet got to her feet a little unsteadily, and walked past Sue to the door. Sue saw the zipper on Janet's dress was not pulled all the way up. She noticed several other clues that said that Janet had gotten dressed in a hurry. Ellen looked the same way: thrown together.

"If Janet and Ellen have not been fucking," she though, "what in the hell is going on here?!" First Richard's coldness, now this unexpected discovery of her boss' sexual preferences. It was very disorienting.

"I have a new assignment for you, Sue," Bradshaw began. "It involves a new and important account. The Universal Church of the One God. The Church of One, for short."

"Oh great," Sue thought, "all this, and my new account involves working with cultists. I should have stayed sick."

"This is the usual public relations stuff, I suppose?" she said aloud.

"Exactly," Bradshaw said. "A representative will be by this afternoon around 2:00. In the meantime, I want you to look over this video and tell me what you think." She handed Sue a video cassette.

"O.K., Boss, will do," Sue said with more enthusiasm then she felt. As she turned to leave the office, she heard Bradshaw say "How do you feel, by the way. I heard you were pretty sick."

"Yeah," said Sue, "I thought I was at death's door."

"Were you taking any antibiotics?" asked Bradshaw. This was important. At it's current stage, the nanotechnology was susceptable to "treatment" by antibiotics.

"Not for the flu," said Sue, "I try not to put that stuff into my body."

"I see," said Bradshaw. She gave Sue a big smile. Too big. It was almost a leer. Bradshaw let her eyes roam over Sue's body in an admiring way. "Well," she said, "welcome back. Let me know what you think of that video as soon as you can."

On the way to the video room, She ran into Richard. Literally. He dumped a cup of water all over her.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry Sue!" he said. He had dumped it down her chest, and was trying to figure out a way to mop off the dampness without feeling her up. They finally found a towel, and got her mostly dry.

"I appologise for acting so cold, Sue," he said. "Bradshaw's been acting weird lately. There's been a lot going on here that we need to talk about."

"Like the Church of One account," Sue asked.

She saw him gulp and nod. This was more like the old Richard, and Sue relaxed. "I have to see this. We'll talk later, O.K?"

Richard nodded, and Sue went into the video room to watch the film.

The glass that had been spilled on her had enough agent to infect a hundred people. The video she was about to watch would prepare a subject for Acceptance in twenty seconds, and there was two hours of film. She would either be one of Them very soon, or she would prove to them beyond a shadow of doubt that she was their first Immune.

Either way, it was O.K.

"This is the most boring, worthless piece of shit I have ever watched in my entire life," Sue said to Richard after two hours. "I can't believe people actually want to join after watching this crap. What do they do to their recruits? Drug them? Hypnotize them?" She laughed, "Hey, nothing short of mind control would convince me to join these loonies."

Richard just smiled. They were having a good time listening to Sue go on about Their video. And They really had not thought it was that bad. Interesting. It need the Human touch, no doubt about it. Sue would be useful in many, many ways.

It made her more desirable, too. The personality in charge of Bradshaw already wanted her fiercely. They were all eager to begin the fun. Patience, patience. All of this would have to be monitored closely.

To Be Continued

Yeah, just "Jake", or jjd@world.std.com. Sure, it's a pseudonym.
How many of us are "real" when we use our actual names, eh?

Last modified (12/24/96 14:22:32) by Eli-the-Bearded.

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