Ready For Conversion
© S.B. 2025 All Rights Reserved.
Reproduction and distribution of this writing without the author’s written permission is prohibited. This writing is not to be included in any publication – free or otherwise -, except the author’s self-published works.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All the characters are over 18.
Mara opened her eyes to find herself trapped inside a rectangular chamber filled with a thin purple gas that burned her lungs. The last thing she remembered was being at Angie’s party, drinking one of her famous Mint Juleps, and then… silence, and a veil of darkness that made her faint on the sofa.
Angie, an old friend of her sister’s who had made her way into her social circle as well, had always been a strange woman, but things had taken a turn for the worse in the last month. She was acting distant, always forgetting things, and often had a blank-eyed expression almost as if her thoughts had been drained from her brain. The night of the party was no different but before she could ask what was going on, Mara was knocked out cold, embracing the blackness imposed on her.
The early-thirties lawyer squinted as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. She coughed, the acrid gas thickening her throat, and pressed her palms against the frigid walls of the chamber.
They were not just walls; they pulsed, throbbing in rhythm with Mara’s heartbeat as though alive, alien shapes shifting under the dim light filtering through the fog. Strange hieroglyphs twisted and danced before her eyes, forming patterns that whispered secrets she could not discern. As she inhaled, the purple mist coiled inside her, and bitter tears rolled down her cheeks.
As she tried to focus on what lay beyond her enigmatic prison, she saw two other women standing at attention next to a colorful circular screen. Their silhouettes were stark against the vibrant display, an array of swirling colors that flickered like shards of light dancing in a restless breeze. Mara blinked, trying to clear her mind of the fog, but failing at every turn. The sight before her was surreal; she could hardly comprehend it.
The women wore tight black catsuits, their forms sleek and sculpted, with skin that glimmered as if kissed by moonlight. Each had long dark hair slicked back into tight ponytails, highlighting sharp features that seemed devoid of emotion. Their faces were masked, save for eyes that glowed with an unsettling hue – deep emeralds set against pallid skin that suggested something otherworldly. The spiraling glowing devices embedded in the back of their necks pulsed in unison, casting a haunting light over their still bodies.
Mara’s heart raced as she gazed at the awkward scene. Who were these figures? Was Angie behind this? Just as the questions were forming in her subconscious mind, the answers came along, as beautiful as horrifying.
A door hissed open with a sound that resonated like the sigh of a ghost, revealing a corridor that shimmered with iridescent lights. From this ethereal threshold emerged Angie, striding with an unsettling grace. Dressed in an outfit that mirrored the other women – sleek and black, form-fitting like a second skin – she exuded a surreal charm. Yet, it was her face that made Mara shiver. Unmasked and unguarded, Angie’s features were tranquil, her eyes unfocused as if she were gazing into a realm far removed from this world.
But Angie was not alone; beside her stood a tall, purple-skinned female humanoid alien. She towered over Angie, her elongated limbs both delicate and powerful, adorned with silvery markings that spiraled across her arms and neck like living tattoos. Her gigantic eyes glistened like polished stones, reflecting all specters of light. She wore a flowing white robe with a belt whose buckle had the same swirling design as the devices on the women’s necks, undoubtedly a control mechanism to keep them docile and subservient.
The alien moved toward Mara’s chamber with Angie by her side. Looking straight ahead, the brainwashed woman said, “She’s ready for conversion, High Priestess.”
Mara’s heart thudded in her chest. Panic surged within her as the alien approached. The patterns on her skin shimmered with a life of their own, undulating as if responding to her rising fear. The High Priestess surveyed her with an unsettling curiosity, tilting her oval head to one side as if appraising a rare and fragile artifact.
“Yes,” she purred. “Another fine specimen for our growing army. Don’t resist, human. You’ve been selected for a higher purpose. You’ll serve us well.” Each word dripped with infectious malice, wrapping around Mara’s psyche like tendrils reaching for something lost. “Begin the rewiring. I’ll have her on her knees within the next cycle.”
The two other women responded to the command, activating a console nearby. The screen flickered and glowed, accentuating the sharp contours of their emotionless faces. The air vibrated with a mesmerizing hum, vibrating through the living walls of her confinement.
The metallic tentacle emerged from a concealed compartment in the ground, coiling upward like a serpent awakening from slumber. It moved with mechanical precision, its surface polished to a mirror-like sheen that caught glimmers of light and reflected them into the environment, creating fleeting illusions in Mara’s vision.
As it reached her, Mara felt both dread and an odd sense of calm wash over her, a paradoxical stillness that silenced the chaos within her racing thoughts. The tentacle’s tip split open, revealing one of the mind-controlling devices that had turned her friend and God knows how many others into obedient servants to an extraterrestrial empire. It hovered just above her head before descending with terrifying speed, seeking vulnerable flesh to control.
The device plunged into her flesh with a sickening squelch, sending a jolt of icy terror racing down Mara’s spine. Reality began to melt into a swirl of colors and shapes, the alien architecture fading into an indistinct haze.
Her body convulsed as if resisting the invasion, but the tentacle tightened its grip, anchoring her to this reality. She could feel the device burrowing deeper, its invasive presence igniting synapses she never knew existed, probing for access to her thoughts like a thief rifling through forgotten memories. The High Priestess watched in silence, her eyes alight with sadistic fascination.
Mara’s world warped and distorted as the device began its work; lines of cascading data streamed down her vision, reprogramming her thoughts one by one. There was only obedience at the end of the line, a life of thralldom in whatever corner of the galaxy she would be sent to.
Arms falling to the side, she forgot the party, her frail human existence, and absorbed the alien’s undying will. She was a slave. She would obey.
THE END
A new daily challenge. The goal is to create 365 new pieces of flash fiction dealing with themes of femdom, hypnosis, and mind control. Inspiration will come from all over the place, including your suggestions. Credit will be given to everyone who suggests something for me to write about.
I’m doing a test run of this feature in January 2025 to prove I can do it. If you want the challenge to continue until the end of the year, help me achieve my Patreon goal of $250 a month.
