The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The fog clung like wet cotton, muffling Rachel’s boots as she strode forward. Behind her, Binning’s breath came too fast. She didn’t slow and Earl’s vanishing silhouette still burned in her vision.

The stench worsened with every step. Sulfur gave way to something rancid like old meat left in the sun in a dank swamp. Shapes flitted at the edges of sight: too tall, too thin. Rachel’s hand hovered near her revolver. “Earl!” She bellowed. The fog swallowed her voice whole.

A child’s giggle echoed from nowhere.

Binning stiffened. “This ain’t right.”

Rachel’s pulse hammered. The giggle came again but from above. She looked up and the fog cleared.

Mari-belle crouched on a power line twenty feet overhead, barefoot, her dress fluttering in the nonexistent wind. Her eyes gleamed like liquid silver. “Sheriff Rachel,” she sang, “you’re late for tea.”

The line snapped. The girl dropped and vanished before hitting the ground. The fog closed in again.

Binning gagged. “Mind games. Gotta be.”

Rachel whirled toward the diner, only swirling fog remained. No building. No people. Just the relentless hum of an overloaded electrical system vibrating through her molars.

A new sound cut through the distortion: rhythmic, metallic scraping. Or was it claws on pavement?

Ssstha’rel emerged from the murk, her feline pupils blown wide. The alien’s fur stood on end, her tail lashing. “Run! The Collectors are coming.” She said in perfect English.

Ssstha’rel giggled with Mari-belle’s voice and faded as the fog thickened again.

The fog rippled once more. Shapes condensed, tall, slender shapes, moving with glacial precision. Nordic silhouettes, but wrong. Distended jaws. Too many ts.

Ssstha’rel crystallized out of the fog once more, her bared her teeth. “They lied. They always lie.”

Binning’s flashlight beam ed straight through her. “Christ...”

The alien female snarled. “Illusions layered over reality. They make you see what isn’t there and hide what is.”

The sound of a whip cracking split the air. Ssstha’rel jerked as if yanked by an invisible leash, her body turned and faded as it did so, vanishing in mid-air.

The hum spiked to a deep tooth-rattling whine.

Rachel sighed. “Ed.”

The deputy blinked at empty space where the alien had been. “Yeah?”

“We head back to the station, we ain’t doin’ no good out here.”

Binning hesitated, staring at the spot where faux-Ssstha’rel had vanished. “Sheriff: that was Mari-belle’s voice...”

“Mari-belle ain’t here, Ed! She’s stayin’ with her grandma.” Rachel cut him off, already moving. Her boots left no prints on the damp asphalt. The fog pulsed and swirled around them, alive, breathing. There should be footprints... She thought.

A screech of rending metal echoed from Main Street. Rachel drew her revolver on instinct. The sound wasn’t natural: too resonant, like steel being peeled apart at a molecular level.

“They’re herding us,” Binning muttered, stumbling as the ground beneath them vibrated. “Just like we herd cattle.”

Rachel grabbed his arm before he could fall. “Eyes sharp, Ed. Herdin’ people is about as easy as herdin’ cats So think, man, doubt whatever you see...”

The station’s floodlights cut through the murk up ahead. Rachel skidded to a halt at the sight of the parking lot: every vehicle stood on end, balanced perfectly on their rear bumpers, their headlights shining straight up.

Binning made a choked sound. “They’re playing with us.”

Rachel stared, jaw clenched. “No. They’re measurin’ us. Seein’ what we’ll accept an’ what we reject!“

She laughed. “Well I reject this bullshit... The cars are not standing on end... Are they Ed?” She looked straight at him. “An’ believe it... Lootenant Binning... US Cavalry!” She added with a quiet hiss.

“N...no, they damn well ain’t, Rachel...” Then he burst out laughing. “They are all parked according to your standing instructions!”

Reality suddenly seemed to warp and the patrol cars were all parked as they were supposed to be.

The station door hung open, swaying gently. Inside, the fluorescent lights buzzed at double frequency, casting strobing shadows. On the reception desk, Wendy Gomez’s coffee steamed untouched beside an open logbook. The last entry read: 1120: All units report visual anomalies. Advised lockdown proce—

The writing ended mid-word in a jagged smear.

Rachel touched the page. Still damp. They have Wendy... Or do they?

A child’s giggle echoed from the cells.

Binning’s hand hovered over his sidearm. “Sheriff...”

Rachel moved silently down the hallway, her shadow stretching unnaturally long under the flickering lights. One of the holding cell doors stood ajar. Inside, Mari-belle sat cross-legged on the bunk, her silver eyes reflecting the buzzing bulb above.

“You’re late,” the girl giggled, tilting her head. “Mommy’s already with us.”

Rachel’s stomach dropped. Melanie....

Outside, the fog screamed.

Rachel hesitated mid-step, and the false Mari-belle’s silver eyes widened impossibly, lips peeling back from perfect adult teeth. “You’re lying!” The Sheriff said quietly.

The child-thing shrieked in stereo, its voice echoing from the walls, the ceiling and the inside of Rachel’s own skull.

Then she saw it for real: a glint around the Marie-belle-thing’s wrist, nearly invisible against its translucent skin. Rachel lunged, twisting the metallic band free with a wet pop like a cork pulled from an empty bottle. Reality lurched violently; her stomach heaved as the cell warped around her: walls breathing in and out like living tissue. The false Mari-belle elongated, limbs crackling as they stretched into a seven-foot Nordic still perched cross-legged on the bunk, its too-blue eyes now level with Rachel’s.

She backpedaled, slamming the cell door shut an instant before taloned fingers curled around the bars in the door’s little window. Binning jammed the key home with a grunt. The lock clicked.

The Nordic tilted its head, studying them through the bars with clinical curiosity. “Clever,” it mused: not aloud, but inside Rachel’s head, the words slithering between her thoughts. “Ssstha’rel’s mongrels taught you that trick?” Its pupils dilated, black swallowing blue. “Pity... She always did like primates.”

Binning’s flashlight beam ed straight through the creature’s torso. Rachel exhaled through clenched teeth.

“Still playing pretend, huh? Take a good look, Ed, she’s as solid as I am” She held up the bracelet, watching the alien’s nostrils flare. “What’s this really for? Party tricks?”

A wet chuckle. “Reality calibration.” It purred. “Your monkey brains can’t process our truth without... adjustments.”

The station lights dimmed. The woman-thing’s smile widened.

Binning’s radio crackled to life, Lieutenant-Colonel Atkinson’s voice slicing through the static: “...repeat, all unit. Black Mesa station compromised... multiple hostiles...”

The Nordic’s laugh cut through the transmission like a scalpel. “Too late.”

Rachel’s gut twisted. Melanie. Mari-belle. Her deputies scattered across the county. She glared at the creature through the bars, fingers itching for her revolver. “You made one mistake,” she growled.

The alien arched a perfect eyebrow.

“You left me pissed off.”

Then, back in the cell, the alien flinched.

Faraway, deep under Cheyenne Mountain, in the NORAD complex, alarms sounded as radar detected something moving into high-Earth orbit. Displays rippled and the duty personnel responded in the way that their training said that they should. The duty officer glanced at her threat board: it was blank. There were no specific threats indicated. But she had known this and only looked because the protocols said that she should.

She was about to reach for her red phone when the alarms cut off and the displays cleared. “What in hell was that?” She demanded.

The veteran Space Force Master Sergeant ran eyes over the screens and consoles that surrounded his station. “Whatever it was ed as massive and solid for a time... Readings are indicative of a structured craft but it’s gone now, Ma’am.”

The duty officer, a Major in the same service, nodded as she scanned her own displays. “Confirmed sergeant. It was either a glitch or we are being evaluated by our superiors. Best run a diagnostic while I formally report it.”

“Diagnostic routines already being executed, Ma’am.” The senior non-com said as the major picked up for her red phone.

A group of senior officers descended on her duty station within minutes and cast experienced eyes over her screens. There was much muttering and nodding of heads before one of them, a full Colonel, turned to the Major and asked. “Recommendations?”

Without hesitation the duty officer looked the Colonel in they eye. “I recommend that this system be taken offline and be subject to a full diagnostic.”

“Why do you say that, Major?” A One Star General asked.

“Because that is the fourth similar glitch during the last two weeks, Sir.” She told him without hesitation. “We can’t afford to take the chance, if this system is reporting false s then it might well miss a real one.”

A Two-Star General nodded slowly. “I concur... We have multiple back-ups we can bring on line so do it!”

The restroom door creaked open, revealing Wendy Gomez smoothing her uniform blouse. She blinked at the Sheriff. “Sorry for leaving the desk...” Her words died as she took in the flickering lights and the tension. Outside, the fog pressed against the windows like a living thing, visibility reduced to a few feet of swirling yellow-gray stench.

Nolan entered and walked over to the briefing table, her cruiser keys clattering onto the map. “I parked up near the old grain silos.” She muttered, rubbing her temple. Wendy then caught her eye... really caught it... and something unspoken ed between them before Nolan shook herself. “Damn. The cats are still in my head.”

Rachel tallied her forces: three deputies, counting Nolan’s shaky return. The rest were scattered across the county, unreachable. She was about to speak when a siren’s wail pierced the fog, growing louder at impossible speed. Rachel lunged for the door. “Siobhan, how far out were you when this soup rolled in?”

“Two miles,” Nolan said, ing her at the window. “Had to feel my way...”

The fog erupted with strobing red and blue lights. A cruiser skidded to a halt, its tires would have sprayed gravel if there had been any. Deputy Kaywaykla emerged, long hair still secured by the red cloth band, bone choker stark against his throat. He strode through the station doors like the fog didn’t exist.

Rachel grabbed his arm. “How the hell did you drive through that?”

Kaywaykla’s frown deepened. He looked outside, then back at her with unsettling calm. “There is no fog, Sheriff.”

The station lights flared white-hot. Wendy’s coffee cup shattered. Nolan gasped, clutching her head as something wet trickled from her nose.

Kaywaykla didn’t blink. “The land re.” He said softly. “My grandfather’s grandfather told the cavalry lieutenant: ‘When the sky women come, believe nothing. Not even the ground under your feet.’” He tapped his temple. “They can’t paint lies when the canvas is beyond their reach.”

Rachel’s revolver found her hand without thought. Outside, the fog writhed: but through Kaywaykla’s eyes, she glimpsed the truth: clear desert air...The sun bright in the sky.

Rachel turned to Wendy, fingers tightening around the radio mic. “Who’s still checking in?”

The dispatcher frowned at the silent equipment. “Radio’s dead, Sheriff. Has been since—”

Kaywaykla cut her off with a sharp gesture. “Listen with your heart.” He insisted, pressing his palm flat against the receiver. The static hissed, then resolved into fragmented voices: Steve Vernon barking coordinates, Montanez’ panicked cursing, the wet gurgle of something that wasn’t human.

Deputy Binning snorted. “Yeah, like the patrol cars.” He jerked his chin toward the lot.

Wendy’s fingers trembled over the logbook. “Sheriff?” Her confusion bled into the word.

Outside, the fog thinned just enough to reveal three figures staggering toward the station. Rachel’s breath caught.

Melanie. Mari-belle. And between them, Ssstha’rel, her fur matted with what looked like oil. The feline alien bared her teeth in something too sharp to be a smile.

“Run,” Mel screamed, “run, they’re coming.”

Kaywaykla didn’t move. He studied the approaching trio with the detached focus of a tracker assessing false sign. “They aren’t there.” He said, voice steady and as dry as creekbed stones.

Rachel felt the weight of her revolver, real, solid, as Mel’s scream echoed unnaturally through the station walls. The sound shouldn’t carry that far through thick adobe. Suddenly she brought the butt of her revolver down on the alien bracelet that was lying on the desk.

The bracelet shattered with a static pop and a flash that seared everyone’s retinas. Mel’s scream cut off mid-breath, replaced by a wet, ragged screech from the holding cell. Rachel moved toward the sound, blinking away afterimages, and saw the Nordic alien convulsing behind bars, her too-perfect features twisting into something primal.

Her silver suit rippled like disturbed mercury before fading into something dull, ordinary and gray. The alien collapsed onto the bunk and lay there sobbing; great, heaving gasps that rattled the metal frame. Rachel pressed against the bars, her pulse hammering. “Jesus Christ...”

“It ain’t magic,” Kaywaykla muttered, crouching to examine bracelet shards. “It’s technology.” He held up a twisted filament still sparking faintly blue. “Like a... radio. Or a computer.” The moment his fingers brushed it, the station lights stabilized. Outside, the fog peeled back in tattered strips, revealing ordinary asphalt shimmering under a normal hot afternoon sun.

People stumbled from storefronts, blinking at the sudden clarity like prisoners released from solitary. The Mayor staggered out of the diner, clutching his stomach. Across the square, Old Man Carlson emerged from his hardware store, shotgun leveled at nothing, his face ashen. A dozen other towns people followed... some weeping, some laughing too loud, all rubbing their eyes like they’d just woken from a shared nightmare.

The phantoms had faded with the non-existent fog, leaving only the sour taste of adrenaline and the lingering hum of something not-quite-electric in Rachel’s teeth. The Nordic alien’s sobs echoed through the station, too human, too raw, as Kaywaykla methodically swept bracelet shards into an evidence bag with the tip of his knife.

Binning chuckled. “My God, buddy, you smell like a prairie fire! Where the hell you bin?”

Kaywaykla didn’t smile. His fingers brushed the bone choker at his throat, part of the traditional garb he was wearing, and Rachel noticed the soot ground deep into his knuckles. “Believe me, Ed,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse, “you don’t want to know.”

He staggered slightly, catching himself on the desk as Wendy rushed forward with a chair. The Apache waved her off and turned to Rachel. “With your permission, Sheriff, I’ll take a shower and change back into uniform.” His dark eyes flicked toward the windows where townsfolk still milled in shocked clusters. “There are a lot of jumpy people out there. If they see an old-time Apache warrior...” He let the implication hang.

Rachel nodded, noting how Kaywaykla’s fingers trembled when he thought no one was looking. “Go. But you’re briefing us in twenty: every damn detail.”

Rachel’s fingers traced idle circles across Melanie’s bare shoulder, the warmth of their bed. Tangled limbs a stark contrast to the cold uncertainty gnawing at her thoughts. Moonlight filtered through the thin curtains, painting silver streaks across Melanie’s sleeping face... too peaceful for the horrors they’d witnessed. The sheriff exhaled slowly, careful not to disturb her lover’s rest, though part of her ached to shake Melanie awake just to confirm she wasn’t another phantom conjured by those goddamn bracelets.

The town was quiet, the Military Police were handling the night shift with Steve Vernon in charge... They’d call her if there were any problems...

The ceiling fan’s rhythmic click marked time like a metronome. Rachel blinked against the memory of the Nordic’s widening smile, those teeth glinting as reality itself unraveled around the creature. She flexed her free hand, half-expecting her fingers to through the mattress. Everything was solid. For now.

Down the hall, Mari-belle’s empty room yawned dark and silent. Mel’s parents had insisted on keeping her in Lubbock after the “gas leak” cover story made national news. a small mercy, though Rachel missed the child’s innocent laughter. She rolled onto her back, staring at the old water stain near the light fixture that vaguely resembled a snarling cat. Appropriate.

Melanie stirred, murmuring something incoherent before nestling closer. Rachel brushed a lock of brunette hair from her forehead, lips quirking at the way Mel always smelled faintly of chalk dust and lavender soap, even now. The familiarity should have been comforting. Instead, it itched under her skin like a lie waiting to be exposed.

Kaywaykla’s voice echoed in her skull: They can’t paint lies without a canvas. Yet the canvas was there and it wasn’t empty... not with Mel’s breath warming her collarbone, not with the deputy’s bone choker still imprinted on her retinas, charred and reeking of ozone when he’d finally emerged from... wherever the hell he’d been. Rachel swallowed against the copper taste lingering at the back of her throat.

A floorboard creaked downstairs.

Rachel’s hand froze mid-caress. The security system showed all doors locked, all windows secure: not that it mattered when reality itself was negotiable. She counted breaths, listening past Melanie’s steady inhales. Silence. Then—

A deliberate tap. Like a fingernail against glass.

“Sssh!” The whisper curled through Rachel’s skull like smoke, soft and insistent. “Ssleeep... Ssssh!” Her limbs grew heavy, eyelids fluttering as the voice, no, not a voice, an impression, coaxed her deeper into the mattress. Safe now. The thought draped over her like a warm, weighted blanket. Of course they were safe. The military had hauled that shrieking Nordic away in a black van late yesterday afternoon ago. The Air Force knew what they were doing...

Probably...

Hopefully...

May be...

Mel’s warmth shifted against her side, the familiar curves replaced by something... wiry. Firm. Rachel nuzzled closer, inhaling crisp linen and... Wait. Her nostrils flared. Not lavender soap. Something sharper, almost citrusy beneath a musk that made her hindbrain prickle. Her fingers twitched into... fur.

Mel’s fur, warm and inviting against her side... She snuggled into it... Warm fur that smelled clean, like sunbaked sandstone and something faintly metallic. Rachel exhaled, letting her fingers sink into the softness, then froze. Too short. Melanie’s shoulder-length hair never felt this dense, this... layered. Her nostrils flared again. That scent... ozone and honeycomb... flooded her sinuses with sudden, terrible clarity.

Fur???

Rachel’s body reacted before her brain caught up: muscles uncoiling, rolling sideways in a violent twist that sent the mattress springs shrieking. Her right hand slapped empty air where her revolver should’ve been on the nightstand. “Christ fuck...”

“Hallo, Ra-chel.” Purred the voice from her pillow, syllables stretching like taffy. Ssstha’rel lounged between Melanie and herself, her feline features illuminated by moonlight that suddenly seemed too bright. The alien’s golden eyes gleamed with amusement, her tail flicking lazily against the rumpled sheets. “Did you miss me?“

“Just why is there a big pussy cat in our bed?” Mel suddenly demanded, her voice cracking halfway between outrage and sleep-addled confusion. She jerked upright, sheets pooling around her waist, her slim frame rigid as she stared at four foot odd of smug feline sprawled across their queen-sized mattress. Ssstha’rel’s tail twitched lazily against Rachel’s thigh, the tip brushing Mel’s knee in deliberate provocation.

Rachel’s hand was already halfway to the other nonexistent revolver, the one that should have been under her pillow, before her brain caught up. She inhaled sharply... ozone, honeycomb, the coppery tang of adrenaline... and forced her fingers to unclench.

“Morning, Ssstha’rel.” She growled, voice thick with sleep and the dregs of last night’s whiskey. “You here to gloat or just ruin my sex life?”

“Your pis-tols are on the floor, it seemed wise to mooove them, ssweetie!” Ssstha’rel purred, her voice sounding like warm honey as she stretched luxuriously between the two of them.

Melanie giggled... actually giggled... and wrapped her arms around the feline’s torso, nuzzling into the dense golden fur that smelled inexplicably of desert rain and sunbaked stone. Rachel’s nostrils flared; the air thickened with something cloying and sweet that made her skull feel like it was packed with cotton. Her thighs pressed together instinctively, heat pooling low in her belly.

“Looks like our sex life just got better...” Melanie murmured, her fingers tracing the delicate gold stripes along Ssstha’rel’s ribcage. The alien’s answering vibration wasn’t quite a purr: more like the hum of a high-voltage transformer wrapped in silk.

Rachel’s hands trembled as she reached for them both, logic screaming somewhere far away as her palms met warm fur and smoother skin. The moment her fingers brushed Melanie’s shoulder, Ssstha’rel’s tail twined possessively around her leg, the tip flicking against her pulse point in a rhythm that matched the throbbing deep between her legs.

“Christ,” Rachel hissed, hips arching of their own accord. The scent... God, the scent coiled around her brain stem, dissolving coherent thought. Melanie’s lips found hers, tasting of sleep and something faintly electric, while Ssstha’rell’s claws pricked delicately through the thin fabric of Rachel’s tank top.

Ssstha’rel’s claws flexed, not quite breaking skin, as Melanie’s fingers tangled in Rachel’s hair, pulling just hard enough to hurt. The feline alien’s breathing rattled, pupils dilating until only thin rings of gold remained. Rachel’s pulse hammered against her ribs, her body arching into the despite the alarm bells ringing in some distant, rational corner of her mind.

Rachel gasped as Ssstha’rel’s paw, deceptively delicate with its retractable claws sheathed, dragged slow circles through her damp lower hair. The fur was impossibly soft, each strand vibrating against her clit with a precision no human fingers could replicate. Logic evaporated like morning mist under desert sun. Melanie’s tongue traced the shell of Rachel’s ear while her hand slid between the feline’s thighs, her smaller fingers finding slick heat that made Ssstha’rel’s tail lash against the sheets.

“Fuck,” Rachel growled, hips jerking upward as the alien’s other paw cupped her breast, those strange, almost-human fingers toying with her nipple through the sweat-damp tank top. The fabric tore like tissue paper under Ssstha’rel’s claws, the sound drowned by Melanie’s gasp against Rachel’s throat.

The bed creaked dangerously as Ssstha’rel twisted, her muscular flank pressing Rachel deeper into the mattress while her muzzle found Melanie’s collarbone. The brunette arched with a whimper, her boyish frame trembling as feline teeth grazed her pulse point. Rachel watched, transfixed, as Melanie’s fingers disappeared into russet fur, her wrist working in quick, desperate strokes that made Ssstha’rel’s purr escalate into something guttural.

Then the paw between Rachel’s thighs pressed harder, the fur suddenly electrifying... literally. A jolt of pleasure-pain shot up her spine as the alien’s golden eyes locked onto hers, pupils blown wide. “Breathe,” Ssstha’rel murmured, and Rachel realized she’d been holding air in her lungs like a diver about to plunge. She exhaled shakily as the alien’s claws pricked her inner thigh. not deep enough to draw blood, just enough to brand the moment into her flesh.

Melanie came first, back bowing off the mattress as Ssstha’rel’s tongue flicked over her clit with reptilian precision. The scent of musk and ozone thickened as Rachel felt herself tipping over the edge, the alien’s paw working her with merciless rhythm. White spots exploded behind her eyelids......

Rachel’s vision swam into focus like a radio tuning between stations... flashes of Melanie’s flushed cheeks, Ssstha’rel’s twitching tailtip, the wet patch cooling between her own thighs. Her muscles trembled with aftershocks, her hips still making tiny involuntary thrusts against the feline’s furry backside. Ssstha’rel’s purr vibrated through Rachel’s sternum as the alien nuzzled into Melanie’s neck, their kiss audible in the quiet room... all soft lips and curious little tongue flicks.

“Christ.” Rachel rasped, her throat raw. She lifted a leaden arm to swipe sweat from her brow, her fingers brushing the alien’s flank. The fur was impossibly soft, warm from their exertions. “Please tell me why this was a good idea at a time like this...”

Ssstha’rel broke the kiss with a wet smack, her golden eyes slitting open. ”Nord-dicsss have gone...” Her tongue darted out to clean a spot of Melanie’s sweat from her muzzle. “No, not for good, but tooo re-group!” She arched into Rachel’s loose embrace, her spine flexing like a bow. “We have time to resst... Unwind... Go jig-jig...” Her tail flicked playfully against Rachel’s thigh. “You needed to re-lax... I thought I would help you.” The alien emitted a throaty sound like a cross between a giggle and a contented growl.

Melanie laughed breathlessly, her fingers tracing the delicate stripes along Ssstha’rel’s ribcage. “Well, mission accomplished.” She murmured, her voice still husky. Rachel watched, mesmerized, as Mel’s fingertips encountered a patch of darker fur near the alien’s hip, almost an insignia and Ssstha’rel shuddered violently, her claws extending briefly before sheathing again.

Rachel’s tactical mind clawed its way through the post-coital haze. She propped herself up on one elbow, the sheet slipping down to pool at her waist. “Wait, how do you know they’re regrouping?” The implications hit like a bucket of ice water. “Are your people tracking them?”

Ssstha’rel rolled onto her back between them, stretching luxuriously. Moonlight caught the gold rings piercing her nipples, a detail Rachel hadn’t noticed earlier. ”Yesss and no...” The alien itted, her tail twining around Melanie’s wrist. “Our tech sssmellss their tech. Like ozone after lightning.” Her nostrils flared dramatically. “Right now, it’s... faint... Distant...”

Melanie shifted, wincing slightly as she sat up. “So what, we just... wait?” Her voice cracked. Rachel recognized the tone... the same one Mel used when Mari-belle had night terrors.

Ssstha’rel’s ears flattened momentarily. She reached up to trace Melanie’s collarbone with one claw-tipped finger. ”No, little sssoft one. We prepare.” Her gaze slid to Rachel, suddenly serious. “Your tracker—your warrior-priesst. He sseess thingss. Dreamss thingss. You musst bring him.”

Rachel’s stomach dropped. Kaywaykla had emerged from his vision quest looking like he’d fought a war. He’s not around.”

“We have perhapss twenty-four... perhapss thirty-sssix hourss...” Ssstha’rel hissed, her feline tongue curling around the ‘h’ in hours like it was prey to be savored. Moonlight caught the gold rings piercing her two rows of nipples as she rolled onto her stomach, tail flicking against Melanie’s thigh. “Their main transsporting sship arrived yesster-day... Your Spaceforce at Cheyenne Mountain... They have seen it... But it hidess from them now.”

Melanie sat up sharply, sheets pooling around her waist. “What about the rest of their fleet?” Her voice cracked. “What about their warships?” She grabbed Rachel’s wrist, nails biting in. “I mean, this is an invasion, isn’t it?“

Ssstha’rel’s ears flattened. She shook her head so violently her whiskers trembled. ”No! No! Not invasion...” Her claws kneaded the mattress, shredding fabric. “Thiss not war... They... We... Not ssoldierss...” She bared her teeth... not in threat, Rachel realized, but something closer to frustration with a language alien too her. “Traderss! We is all “Traderss! Different com-paniess... different sspecies... but traderss, not invaderss.”

Rachel’s gut twisted. She’d seen those “traders” give the impression they could reduce a cruiser to molten slag with a flick of their wrists. “Bullshit.” The word came out flat, final.

The alien’s tail lashed. ”Yesss, bull-shit.” She mimicked, then tapped her temple with a claw. “But true... so true. Nord-dic collect... modify... as Ssex-toyss.. No intelligence...” Her golden eyes flicked to Melanie’s boyish frame. “...then sell! My people,”... she gestured to her own furred body, “we take intact... only alter mindss. Ssell pets... Sssexy Com-panions.” She said it like it was a moral high ground.

Melanie made a sound like a kettle boiling over. Rachel silenced her with a look, her cop-brain finally punching through the pheromone haze. “So this whole goddamn circus... missing chickens, snatched deputies, molten pavement... is just...” She waved a hand. “...interstellar fucking human trafficking?”

Ssstha’rel chuckled. “Humanss for fucking... yesss, very good, Rach-el, you funny!”

“I ain’t laughin’, Ssstha’rel.” The big red-head rumbled menacingly.

Ssstha’rel’s pupils dilated. She nodded once. Then added. ”Not jusst Humanss... You monkeys nice but nothing sspessial... Take anything... Anyone ssuitable. Good market plenty... proffit. Other worlds too... Lotss of other Worldss.”

Outside, the power lines hummed that unnatural tone again. Rachel’s Smith & Wessons still lay handy on the floorboards where the feline had nudged them, handy but just out of immediate reach.

Melanie gripped the sheets. “And you’re here to help?” Her laugh was brittle.

Ssstha’rel’s purr stuttered. She reached out, claws retracted, and traced Melanie’s cheek. ”No,” she itted softly, “I am here becausse of trade.”

Rachel’s blood turned to ice.

The alien sighed, her breath smelling of honeycomb and something metallic. ”We... negotiate now. Before Nord-dic start harvest.” She gestured vaguely south west: towards The Cordova Ranch. “Your tracker dreamss true. He knowss the t. We want... They want...”

Rachel’s fingers twitched toward her missing revolver. “Kaywaykla’s not your bargaining chip.”

Ssstha’rel’s ears perked up. She grinned, showing too many teeth. ”Not him,” she purred. “Her.”

A floorboard creaked downstairs.

Melanie froze. “Mari-belle?”

The alien shook her head. ”Not as ssmall. but Older.” Her tail twitched toward the window, where dawn tinted the horizon the color of a fresh bruise. “The cute blond one who lies.”

Rachel’s stomach dropped. Atkinson. She must mean Lieutenant-Colonel Atkinson.

Ssstha’rel stretched, her claws flexing. ”She wearsss their mark now... They think they control Air Force woman... but they wrong!” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You hear it, yesss? The hum?”

And suddenly, Rachel could... a vibration beneath the house’s foundations, like a dentist’s drill two streets over. The Air Force colonel hadn’t just been covering up the truth.

She’d been tagged... May be controlled.

Ssstha’rel’s tail coiled around Rachel’s wrist, warm and impossibly soft. ”Tick-tock,” she murmured.

Outside, the first birds began to scream.