The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“…okay, ladies,” Reilly called downwards. “Just be ready, okay?”

Twenty feet below her, Michelle Jaworowski and Lauren Hendricks of Zeta Pi Beta both called back, “Yeah, sure!”

Reilly swallowed a shaking breath. She was—once again—atop a telephone pole, about to do surgery on a distribution transformer. The great machine was just above her head. Reilly reached for the lower access panel…

Too late, the beautiful sophomore realized that she’d forgotten rubber gloves. Shit. She didn’t think you could get electrocuted from plugging in a cable… but she wasn’t certain.

Whatever the case, it was too late to turn back now. Phil’s orders rang inside Reilly’s mind, and she had to obey them. She threaded her new extension cable through the access portal…

There. The cable snapped into the aux power outlet, as neat as you please. Reilly yanked her hand back. After a quick little prayer of thanks, she descended the pole’s ladder.

“Is it ready yet?” Phil demanded, anxious.

Reilly knelt before the electrical equipment, trying to concentrate. She was now in the Party Room of Zeta Pi Beta House, an enormous chamber just off the back yawn patio. Earlier, she had been admiring the room’s polished hardwood floors, white columns, and etched trim along the ceiling. One could entertain hundreds of people in this room.

But at the moment, all Reilly was dwelling upon was the titanic television that dominated the north wall. This TV was nearly as tall as she was, and wider than eight feet across. The Zeta Pi’s certainly had money. At the foot of the television was a portable generator, Phil’s last Brainwave machine, and Reilly’s new heavy duty cable, freshly run from the telephone pole outside.

Phil and several of the Zeta Pi’s all hovered over Reilly, watching her every move with hawklike interest. The Zeta Pi women were all completely naked, which wasn’t helping Reilly’s concentration in the least.

“Well?” Phil almost yelled. “Is it ready yet? My girls are coming out of their trances!”

Reilly glared back. “You see this?” she snapped, holding up the extension cord. “There’s over two hundred fifty amps pumping through this cable. One wrong move and I fry myself. And your precious device. Lemme think, okay?”

Phil muttered something, but did not protest.

Feeling pressured, Reilly studied the power socket on Phil’s generator. His was a different model than Bruce’s, although the basic concepts were the same… so Reilly guessed. After all, these components were all made under the American system, right? The American system was designed to be standard, right? She thought so.

Reilly took a deep breath, opened the generator safety, inserted the live cable, and then set the circuit breaker on the generator. There was a crackle in the air, then nothing.

“There!” Phil cried in relief. “Its going green!”

Indeed, the generator’s LED indicators were all blinking green, indicating a healthy power flow. Phil sprang to his Brainwave, firing up the software.

“Bring all the sisters here,” he instructed his Zeta Pi’s. “Everyone. We’ve gotta to our daily hypnosis routine now. Right now.”

Without waiting for more instructions, the nude women hurried off.

“Good… good…” Phil murmured, checking his modified laptop. “Yeah… good… Reilly, you’re sure this won’t start a fire?”

“Yeah,” Really said absently, watching the cable connection into the generator. “You know, your generator is a different model than Bruce’s. You should probably only run your device once a day. Or else its likely that this kind of power supply could turn your laptop into a heap of plastic slag. One of the things I worry about is—“

“I know this technology,” snapped Phil. “The circuitry is above standard, okay? You just worry about that hookup.” He frowned. “You’re sure that cable is fully seeded into the socket?”

Was the cable fully seeded? Reilly was pretty sure… But…

Reilly reached for the machine with her right hand.

As her fingers closed in on the power outlet, a thick spark leapt from the generator to her fingertips. Reilly yelped, her body leaping backwards with a painful head-to-toe spasm. She banged her head on the hardwood floor…

…and then knew nothing more.

Across campus, Bree found herself in… the Baxter Room. The little private suite up on Phi Delta House’s fourth floor. She’d only ever been inside these little rooms once before. It was impressive how clean and tidy the suite was.

Why was it so hard to think? Bree wasn’t certain. Her own memory was fogged, almost as if she was awake, but dreaming. She couldn’t remember how she’d gotten to this place… or why she was here… or what her instructions were… In fact, Bree’s mind was largely blank.

The young woman blinked, glancing all around. She stood in the Baxter’s small bedroom, with the curtains drawn. A single bed was against the far wall, and now Bruce—wonderful, manly, oh-so-sexy Bruce—was reclined on the bed, carefully watching her. There was a thick carpet on the floor, recently shampooed. The air smelled faintly of cleaner. The bedroom door was closed.

Oh… Bree almost hadn’t noticed… but she was standing next to Sydney! Bree smiled absently. She loved Sydney. Sydney was so marvelous, so incredible, so awesome. Bree wanted to be just like Sydney in every way. Didn’t she once think that Sydney is always right, always wise, always cool?

But… Bree hesitated. Why did Sydney look so hot?

Why was Bree admiring Sydney’s slender neck, her lips, her small shoulders, her chest? Why were thoughts of caressing Sydney’s buttocks seeping into Bree’s imagination? Why did licking Sydney’s pussy suddenly seem… like such a good idea???

Mmmmm…

“Now then,” Bruce said, grinning like a wolf, “let’s have fun, eh? Dance for me.”

As the phrase ‘Dance for me,’ left Bruce’s lips, Bree’s thoughts flickered. It was as if her mind rebooted, and then…

Oh! Bree knew what was going on. She was a professional exotic dancer, a stripper of the highest caliber. In fact, she was such a famous stripper, she was known to sell out shows in high-dollar gentlemen’s clubs nationwide. Scores? Spearmint Rhino? Fantasies? Kitty Kat Klub? Bree had danced in them all. Already, the beautiful young woman felt the urge to work her body, to peel off her clothes in the most alluring way possible.

At her side? The world’s other most famous stripper, Sydney Lazaro. Sydney was just as famous a dancer as Bree, and just as sexy. The two women were both professional rivals and mentors to each other at the same time. Their bodies were sought by rich men all around the globe.

And now, Bree and Sydney would perform together in their first joint strip show.

The two dancers briefly made cool eye contact, nodding exactly once. They knew what to do.

Bruce, their client, touched a button on his phone. Music began to play.

And with that, Bree’s hips began to swivel back and forth. The beautiful young dancer bent her knees, seductively thrusting out her tush. She allowed her own hands to swarm up and down her own hips, her stomach, and to cup her own breasts. She felt an expression of raw arousal assume control of her face.

Beside Bree, Sydney was also gyrating. The willowy blonde knew how to twirl her hips about, which caused Sydney’s tight little rear to dance in a hypnotic rhythm. Bree could only admire the technique. Sydney’s eyelids were half-lowered and her lips slightly open, giving her a sensuous come fuck me expression. Like Bree, Sydney was allowing her own hands to explore her own body.

Bree danced on, suddenly aware that she was wearing… sneakers??? What striptease artist in her right mind would dance for a client in sneakers? True, the shoes were a cute shade of pink… but how unprofessional!

Appalled, Bree paused only long enough to slip out of her shoes and the socks underneath. Soon, her bare feet were embracing the thick carpet. Now the only clothes on Bree’s lean body were her tiny, skintight shorts, and cutoff exercise tee. Beneath the tee was a small sports bra. Of course, Bree would normally dance for a VIP client in a skintight minidress with lingerie beneath, but she could work with this outfit. Perhaps Bruce the client had a fantasy about watching a workout girl strip naked?

But first… to make the striptease a proper teeeeeeeeeeeeease…

A real exotic dancer, Bree knew, didn’t just yank off her clothing. No. That was how an amateur dancer worked, rushing to get to the nudity in the hopes of dazzling the client with her breasts and butt. Bree knew better. She preferred slowly torturing her clients by making them impatient.

So the beautiful young woman slowly rotated about, making a point of tracing large circles in the air with her rear end. This required her to greatly bend her knees and arch her back, but the effort was worth it. Bruce the client looked positively mesmerized.

Picking up on Bree’s playful display, Sydney slapped one of Bree’s buttocks as it whirled through the air. There was the crack of flesh on flesh in the air. The bite of pain surprised Bree, but she danced on nonetheless. She was a professional.

“Oh, shit…” Bruce muttered in appreciation.

“You like what you see, baby?” Bree moaned, her fingers slooooowly moving to her cropped tee. She turned her back to Bruce, allowing him to admire her two working buttocks. “You like it?”

“Yeah…” panted the client.

“Yeeeeeeah, I totally know you do,” Bree breathed, beginning to lift the tee shirt off her narrow shoulders.

“Uh-huh…” exhaled Sydney, sounding like she was in heat. To Bree’s surprise, Sydney leaned in, cupped one of Bree’s buttocks, and playfully squeezed it, all the while giving Bruce bedroom eyes. Bree played along.

Bree threw a brief glance at her dancing partner. Like her, Sydney had already shed her shoes and was dancing barefoot. She’d also discarded her headband, which allowed her long hair to swirl about her like a golden, satin curtain. Privately, Bree thought that Sydney looked gorgeous.

And sexy.

Bree’s own cropped tee shirt was still rising up her arms… and then it was fluttering down onto the carpet. Bree’s graceful hands—seemingly all on their own—were now reaching for her sports bra, rolling them up her chest, and allowing her breasts to bounce free in the cool air. Bree still stood with her back to the client, so she knew that now, he had a view of her exposed back.

Good. Let him know that she was about to be topless… and he couldn’t see her tits yet.

Now Sydney swirled about Bree’s body, pirouetting on her toes. The platinum blonde moved to stand directly before Bree, standing so that Bruce couldn’t see her.

“Strip off my top,” Sydney murmured to Bree.

Bree understood. Clients who wanted two dancing girls often had lesbian fantasies. Well, Bree and Syd could indulge. This was a regular part of their profession, after all.

Leaving her own sports bra bunched up about her collarbone, Bree slipped her hands under Sydney’s own exercise shirt. The thin cloth was light and almost see-through. Bree lifted Sydney’s shirt straight up, and Sydney bent her knees, lowering herself out of the loose garment at the same time.

Now only wearing spandex shorts and a tiny exercise bra, Sydney skipped about Bree so that she was now blocking Bree from Bruce’s view. Bree felt Sydney’s thin fingers on her own sports bra, pulling upwards. She arched her back…

…and the bra slid up off her arms in one natural motion. Bree sighed happily, covered her exposed breasts with both hands, and went back to drawing large figure eights in the air with her rear end. She always liked the moment in the striptease when she was first topless.

Sydney giggled playfully. “Now you,” she instructed in the barest of whispers.

Bree turned, fingering Sydney’s bra carefully in the dim light. There was a small latch between Sydney’s breasts…

There. Bree felt the latch open, and the bra relaxed as it released Sydney’s breasts.

Even as she peeled off the little undergarment, Bree found herself absently thinking… had she ever seen Sydney’s breasts before? Guts commonly assumed that all sorority sisters showered together and saw one another naked every day. But the reality was-

Waitaminute. Sorority sister? What was Bree thinking? She and Sydney were exotic dancers, not sorority sisters! Of course Bree had already seen Sydney’s nude body, thousands of times before! But only in a professional capacity, of course.

Pushing silly thoughts about sororities from her mind, Bree tossed aside Sydney’s bra with a careless flick of her fingers. The two topless dancers faced one another.

“Com’ere,” Sydney moaned, pulling Bree towards her.

And then, the two young women were kissing deeply, pressing their chests and bellies together, exploring one another with their fingers, yet somehow gently swaying in time to the music. Sydney’s lips were warm and soft and caressed Bree with a loving passion. She smelled wonderful. The younger dancer melted, just a little.

So, the client had requested a lesbian strip show? That was news to Bree. But—ever the professional—she complied. Sydney’s thin body felt good against Bree’s, and Sydney’s skin was oh-so-soft, almost unbelievably soft. Sydney must have bathed with a gallon of body lotion every morning. The scent of Sydney’s faint floral perfume filled Bree’s thoughts like a drug.

As she kissed, Bree felt Sydney’s hands wander down her own back, tracing out Bree’s muscles. Then, Sydney’s fingertips reached the elastic band of Bree’s running shorts. Sydney’s fingers slipped beneath…

And then, Sydney was pushing Bree’s tiny pants down Bree’s slender hips. Sydney wasn’t wasting time; she was shedding Bree’s shorts and undergarments at the same time.

(As a professional dancer, Bree appreciated this curtesy. For reasons she couldn’t fathom, Bree was not wearing a stripper’s thong, but white cotton underpants! As if she were going to go sweat in the gym for a few hours, not entertain a high-rolling VIP! The client could not be permitting to see Bree wearing such an ungainly thing.)

Soon, Bree felt her hips becoming exposed to the room’s air. Kneeling before her, Sydney slid Bree’s shorts all the way down Bree’s comely legs, but still giving Bree room to dance in place, just a little. Bree discreetly slipped a hand before her crotch, just to preserve some last mystery for the client.

The shorts fell to the carpet, and Bree hopped out of them with nimble steps. She was now fully naked.

As a professional stripper, Bree was used to being nude, and had even grown to like it with the right client. She risked a quick glance at Bruce. He was still reclined on the bed, propped up with pillows. A hazed expression ruled his face as he gazed at Bree’s sleek but curve-blessed body. He was absently rubbing himself over his trousers.

Good. Bruce was the right kind of client. Bree felt herself relax.

“Now me,” Sydney whispered in her ear.

Needing no more instructions, Bree positioned Sydney to face the window; this put the blonde woman in profile to Bruce. Sydney wrapped both arms over her unclothed breasts.

Now Bree stopped covering herself up. Using both hands, she made a show of bending Sydney forward, at the waist, just a little. Sydney complied, shifting her weight onto her right leg and lifting her left leg so that only her little toes rested on the carpet. This position caused her back to arch and her meaty little rear end to jut out.

Both women could hear Bruce suck in his breath. The client was growing very aroused.

With all the showmanship she had, Bree swept her hands down Sydney’s soft body, from Sydney’s shoulders, over her back, then down over her two hips.

“Uhhhh…” Sydney moaned. “Uhhhh!”

But Bree was only beginning the Grand Finale. Now, hooking her fingers under Sydney’s shorts, she pulled down, not too quickly. Slowly, Sydney’s round buttocks were exposed, grateful to be freed from under the tight spandex.

Bree knelt, still forcing the shorts down Sydney’s bare legs. The blonde dancer had shaved only that morning, and her legs were smooth and smelled wonderful. As her face drew closer to Sydney’s rear end, Bree made a point of locking gazes with Bruce…

…and then, she licked Sydney’s buttock, as if the blonde dancer’s bum was a scoop of ice cream.

“Oh fuck,” the VIP client mumbled, unable to contain himself.

As Sydney stepped out of the last of her clothes, Bruce stood, fumbling with his belt. “Suck me off,” he ordered the women. “Do it, do it now.”

“Yes, master,” Sydney murmured pleasantly.

“Yes, master,” Bree found herself saying as well.

Yes, master??? Where had that come from? Inside her own mind, Bree blinked. What was that?

But there was no time to contemplate. Bree was now kneeling on the carpet, as was Sydney. The two dancers were shoulder-to-shoulder, and hip-to-hip, their bodies pressed tightly enough together that Bree could feel Sydney’s warmth. Bruce stood before them like a colossus, opening his trousers.

Sydney needed no instructions. With a sly smile, she reached up, drawing Bruce’s erect cock from his underwear. The VIP client gasped aloud at the feel of her touch. Sydney rose up on her knees, her mouth reaching…

And Bree was doing the same! Before Bree knew what was happening, she too was lovingly touching Bruce’s penis. His testicles were there, eager to be fondled. Bree complied.

And then, Bree was licking, gratefully running her tongue down the length of Bruce’s shaft, over his swollen tip, and briefly touching the very end, where Bruce was already dribbling cum. He tasted salty and brackish, but Bree didn’t mind.

Sydney was mirroring Bree, almost exactly. Syd was licking Bruce’s left side, Bree his right. Sometimes, their tongues and lips up and down the length of Bruce together; sometimes they were traveling in opposite directions. More than once, Bree and Sydney met one another as they licked; the brief girl-on-girl contact felt good.

Bree discovered that her free hand was clutching Bruce’s rear end, over top of his slacks. Sydney was doing the same.

Bruce began to wheeze, as if he were trying to breathe in too much air all at once. His cock grew warmer and stiffer.

“Oh shit,” the VIP client gasped. “Oh shit! Both of you, on the bed! Go!”

Sydney instantly obeyed, pulling Bree onto the mattress with her.

“You!” Bruce ordered, pointing at Sydney. “Eat her pussy!”

“Yes, master,” both Sydney and Bree murmured.

And then, Sydney was gently pushing Bree onto her back, guiding Bree’s head to a pillow. Bree was hesitant. Had she ever been pleasured by a woman? No, not that she could recall. Not even as a professional dancer. Why was she trembling?

And then, Sydney was pressing down upon Bree, kissing Bree as if Bree was her only lover. Bree could feel Sydney’s breasts against her own, Sydney’s stomach on her stomach, Sydney’s strong legs on either side of her own body, pressing in. Sydney’s lips hungrily ate at Bree’s mouth, and the blonde woman was making tiny moaning noises as she kissed. Sydney’s perfume seemed to dominate the air; Sydney’s warmth made her tingle.

“God, I want you…” Bree heard Sydney mumble as the blonde began to nibble her way down Bree’s thin neck.

“Ohhhhhhhh fuck…!” Bree moaned, unable to control herself. Her fingers clawed at the bedsheets as her own muscles tightened with passion. Already, her toes were curling in anticipation of… anticipation of… Oh God!

Now Sydney’s lips were worshiping Bree’s left breast, making sure to suck tightly on Bree’s nipple, if only for an instant. Both nipples lit up with delight. Bree’s breathing quickened.

Has Sydney done this before? Bree thought in amazement.

She was entirely in Sydney’s power now. Bree couldn’t have moved a finger in protest, had she wanted to. Under Sydney’s oral attentions, Bree’s whole body was coming alive. Waves of pleasure were starting to wash over her like a strange, erotic tide. Bree realized that she was sweating.

Working south, Sydney kissed down Bree’s heaving belly, gasping with excited breath. But Sydney’s hands snaked upward, to capture and admire Bree’s breasts. Sydney’s thumbs went to work on Bree’s nipples, both of whom sang in wonder.

“Ohhhhhhhhh God…” Bree moaned. Her eyes were slowly closing, and her mouth opened into a wide, wordless ‘O’ shape.

Sydney’s mouth was now kissing Bree’s pelvis; she was also gently pushing apart Bree’s legs. Bree could feel cool air on her exposed vagina… Oh God, she was so wet!

What was happening? How had Bree lost control? As a professional stripper, Bree was used to… was used… …used… It was hard to think.

Feeling like a puppet, Bree raised her legs up and out, giving as much space to Sydney as she could.

“Mmm, hello little kitty,” giggled the blonde woman, settling in at Bree’s crotch. Bree felt Sydney’s hands place themselves inside her thighs…

And then, Sydney was licking her.

Oh! The sheer onslaught of chemical passion smashed into Bree like a freight train. The younger dancer was unprepared for how intense the delight was. Every muscle in her body tightened as she gasped and grabbed at the bed’s pillows. It was beyond belief.

As Sydney sucked on, Bree wanted to both flee and press down upon Sydney at the same time. The orgasmic feedback was so powerful, Bree was paralyzed by the moment. Her whole body vibrated and sang like a plucked guitar string.

And then… an orgasm of incredible size began welling up inside the younger dancer.

As she felt her vagina respond, Bree was momentarily afraid of the sheer amount of pleasure that was about to burst from within her. Already, her senses were on overload, and that sweet climax was coming closer… and closer… oh, so close! Bree wailed aloud. Her elevated legs kicked helplessly from the knees on down.

“Oh shit,” she heard herself babble, “Oh Sydney you blonde bitch I fucking love you I wanna suck your pussy until you scream with joy oh fuck you beautiful fucking bitch don’t you fucking Princess of Phi Delta Sigma stop oh please don’t fucking stop don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop oh Syd you are a fucking goddess oh fuck don’t stop don’t stop doooooooooonnnnnnnnnnn’ttttttttt…!!!”

Suddenly, it was all too much. Bree yelled wordlessly as the dam burst and her orgasm rushed at her like a stampede of delight. Her whole body tensed so badly, that her arched back rose up into the air, pushing her head hard against the mattress. Bree could feel herself gushing, gushing like a hydrant, and there was nothing she could do to stop herself.

Sydney let out a pleased grunt, and slowed her oral stimulation.

“Ohhhhhhhhhh fuck…!” Bree gasped. Her eyes were still tightly screwed shut, and she realized that she’d clenched both of her fists upon Sydney’s hair. Sweat dampened the bedsheets around her.

Bree’s orgasm subdued. It was like coming out of an intense dream; slowly, Bree felt her senses reset, and the room around her returned. Her fingers and toes twinkled as if they were sprinkled with pixie dust, and her muscled felt as they were about to turn into rubber.

“Awesome,” chuckled Sydney, pleased with herself. She leaned in to give Bree’s vagina one last, big kiss: “Mmmmmm’MAH!”

“Oh shit!” Bree chirped, feeling one last orgasmic aftershock.

Standing beside the bed, his eyes wide with wonder, was Bruce. Bruce the VIP client. Somehow, Bree had forgotten about him.

Bruce was now naked himself, even discarding his glasses. He was slowly stroking his cock, which was still quite erect.

“Do that again,” he ordered the women. “But this time, do it so I can fuck Sydney doggie style as she sucks on Bree.

Again…??? Bree thought weakly.

But Bruce had to be obeyed. “Yes, master,” both women obediently chorused.

Bree forced herself to sit up, and then scooch back against the bed’s headboard. She parted and raised her legs, allowing Sydney the crawl onto the mattress after her. With a little contorting, Sydney was able to press her face into Bree’s vagina, while kneeling and pushing her own rear high into the air. The erect Bruce climbed onto the bed after Sydney, rolling a condom onto himself.

“Oh fuck…” he was mumbling eagerly. “Oh fuck… Phil was right… Oh fuck.”

He gripped Sydney’s buttocks and began to slowly pump her.

Sydney cried out in pleasure, then shoved her mouth back against Bree. And Bree felt the passion begin to swell again.

The world was dark, hazy.

Groaning softly, Reilly became aware of her body. She was lying on her back. She had a headache, and her right arm felt a little pain, too. In the distance, she could hear a man’s voice, speaking gently, his words echoing slightly.

Reilly gingerly opened her eyes, just a little. A plain, white ceiling was above her. Natural sunlight bathed the room. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear a man’s soft voice, speaking continuously. Reilly couldn’t make out the words.

Huh? What was this? Where was she?

So Reilly tried to sit up. Right away, her head swam. Pain shot up her right arm.

Be devoted to the sisterhood.

“Whoa!” a young woman’s voice said, nearby. Reilly felt gentle hands on her shoulders. “Taaaaaaake it easy there, girl.”

Confused, Reilly lay back down, her eyes closing in pain. “Ugggh… Oh man…” she grunted.

“You took quite a bump!”

Reilly blinked, trying to focus once more. Where was she?

Dedication is the most important thing.

Her thoughts jumbled up, Reilly opened her eyes once more. A young woman was sitting next to her, smiling gently. The woman was completely naked.

“Whoa,” Reilly mumbled.

“How do you feel?” the woman asked kindly.

Reilly rubbed her temple with her left hand. How did she feel?

Everyone under our roof must commit to the project.

Forcing the world to come into focus, Reilly squinted. Then she blinked in sheer surprise.

“…Michelle?” she exclaimed. “Michelle Jaworowski?”

Sure enough, Michelle was the nude woman. Gaping, Reilly looked about.

She was lying on a small couch, very comfortable. The room around her was painted white, with hardwood floors and old photos framed on the walls. Large French windows looked out onto a wide, green lawn.

And now, Reilly could make out what the distant man’s voice was saying: “…and now, as you relax even deeper, you find that you only want to follow and obey my every instruction…”

“Where the hell am I?” Reilly asked, utterly befuddled.

“You’re at Zeta Pi Beta, girl!” Michelle told her. “Oooo, you might have bumped your head more than we thought. You came over here with Phil, remember?”

In disbelief, Reilly could only say, “I… whaaaaat?”

Sydney is always right, always wise, always cool.

Reilly groaned, wishing that she could think straight. She was still wearing her workout clothes. And she wanted to… to…

Misinterpreting Reilly’s frown, Michelle said quickly, “Reils, you should be okay after a little rest. Two of our sisters are premed, and they say you don’t have a concussion or anything broken.”

“Then why does my fucking arm hurt?” Reilly wanted to know.

“Well, you helped Phil hook up his computer thingee—I don’t know what it is—and somehow it shocked you.”

“Shocked me?” spluttered Reilly. She looked at her right arm in alarm.

There were no burn marks, no blisters, nor any cuts to the skin. Only an unpleasant tingling that persisted from Reilly’s fingertips to just below her shoulder. Reilly shuddered.

Be devoted to the sisterhood.

Unaware of Reilly’s befuddlement, Michelle smiled. “Anyways,” she chattered on, “once you hooked up his computer thingee, Phil had us Zeta Pi’s all watch it on the big TV, and then…” Her voice trailed off, and she shrugged. “Well, I actually don’t really remember what happened after, but that’s soooooo not important.”

Reilly tried to sit up again.

Dedication is the most important thing.

“Maybe you’ll want to watch Phil’s program on the big TV?” Michelle suggested gamely. “I know it always makes me feel relaxed and soooooo free…”

A second nude young woman strode into the room. She smiled warmly at Reilly.

“Hey, hiiiiii Lauren!” exclaimed Michelle.

“Hey, hiiiiiii Michelle!” replied the newcomer. To Reilly, she asked, “How do you feel?”

Everyone under our roof must commit to the project.

“Uhhh…” Reilly mumbled, her thoughts still reeling. Why was it so hard to concentrate?

Out in the hall, Reilly could hear Phil’s voice: “…and when you wake up, ladies, you’ll remember nothing. But you’ll happily follow and obey all my instructions, as if they were your own idea.”

“Reilly, maybe you’ll want to watch Phil’s program on the big TV?” Lauren offered. “I know it always makes me feel relaxed and soooooo free.”

Sydney is always right, always wise, always cool.

“I gotta go,” said Reilly, wishing she could think straight. “I gotta go.”

She ignored the Zeta Pi’s protests, and moved towards the door.