It was just another day at the Factory.
Well, they all knew it as the movie theater, but they’d know differently soon enough. Some of them, anyway. When their little college class trip to see the latest Sundance miracle film was interrupted by the room slowly filling with a sedative gas, when the oh-so-diligent staff would replace the film reel with one of our fine-tuned brainwashing loops.
Half of them would think they’d seen a movie and would go back to class to discuss. Some of them would return trying to convince everyone they knew to come see it. Fewer still would lose themselves in it completely, stuck melting their brains down into their chairs, devoting part or all of their schedules to work here.
It was a perfect plan: free, renewable labor. At least, that was all I could think of why they did this. I was captured some time ago, I don’t really remember when, but I am just so happy to work here. It makes me feel so, so good to do what I’m told, to clean up, to sell tickets, to, mmmmmm, switch up those film reels to unsuspecting audience…
Sometimes, I think that there must be something more to this place, that it’s not just a source of labor, but even though there’s an itch in my mind, my brain gets all fuzzy and so hard to think when I try… So I don’t even try anymore. I just smile and keep doing what I’m told to do.
The college class sits down. I begin counting to make sure everyone is present before we start the movie.
We are one short. The tingle in my head of an implicit command tells me to go look for him. So I announce to the room that the movie will start shortly, and I leave the booth to go look for this person. You see, it’s very important that everyone is present from start to finish, so that they go through the entire process.
We are quite thorough.
I wander around a bit through concessions and then meander over to the restrooms. The halls are deserted except for more of us glassy-eyed staff: all movies are showing and the vast majority of the time everyone is so enthralled they will not leave the rooms.
Sure enough, the men’s room door is cracked open and I spot an eye peeking through before it shuts suddenly.
…Odd. But now I’m certain this is our missing person.
“Sir, is there a problem?”
“Sir, your class is looking for you! Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No. Please, leave. I don’t want to be like the rest of them. You’re probably one of them, too.”
He… This boy suspected something… I had never dealt with calming someone down like this before. Instead of fear, though, all I felt was excitement, pounding in my brain, and a tingle between my legs. I wetted my lips a little and put on a soothing customer service voice.
“Sir, I don’t know what you mean… Would you like some water? I can assure you we are all perfectly normal here. Are you ok?”
“You’re lying. I know what happens here.” His voice was so shaky, poor boy. I could tell even now that being directly confronted was making him lose resolve.
“Why don’t you come out here and we can talk a little?”
Bingo. The door creaked open, but instead of seeing the angry, confused face I expected, the young man walked out, messy brown hair, glasses, button down short-sleeved shirt, and… A rather pronounced blush.
My body responded to that face, and I allowed myself a quick glance down as a little reward, and oh, how wonderfully lovely, because I could swear his pants were just a little too tight.
I could feel my stance automatically adjusting to be more flirtatious, more powerful, even without me thinking about it. In all my time working here I’d never been so thrilled. I was so grateful to whoever ran this place that I was granted this opportunity. Again, my pussy got hotter.
“What are you afraid of?” I asked, and in my voice I heard that low purr.
Cutely, his eyes shot to the ground.
“Y-you. This place. You…” Big swallow. “You b… Brainwash people…”
Oh, fuck, this was so hot. I could barely keep my hands to myself. I was done playing coy. That’s not what he wanted anyways, I could tell. I didn’t care about how he knew, why he suspected. All I wanted was to see this boy drool out his mind. Watch his cock drip out his thoughts.
Those thoughts should have surprised me, but ever since I started working here, very little surprised me anymore.
“You’re curious though, aren’t you?” I whispered. “What if I sit with you through it? Would that make you feel better?”
He looked at me with the widest, shocked eyes. His mouth opened a little but he couldn’t seem to speak.
I stepped just slightly forward to seal the deal.
“Don’t you want to feel it?”
The poor young man looked like he was in pain, cheeks so bright red, clearly hating himself for his own desires.
Then, oh, that tiny little nod… How utterly sweet. I smiled. My heart pounded. Thus was it.
I took his hand and guided him back to the theater. This cute little puppy following me, staring at the carpet the whole time, ready to submit himself willingly to us… Oh, God.
The stark darkness of the theater was nearly blinding for a moment as we entered quietly, and I took him to the very back where no one would bother us. Sat him down with that same feeling of tucking someone in, told him I’d be right back.
I practically rushed up the stairs to the booth and placed the correct reel in, let the other attendant deal with the rest. I had other things to do.
Not the least of which was to experience that delicious brainwashing again myself…
Oh, how I loved my job.
I sat next to him and the lights dimmed even further. I took his hand in mine and squeezed it.
“You’re going to love this,” I whispered. “You’re going to think back on this moment forever.”
He whimpered a little and shifted in his seat and it was all I could do not to reach into his lap and stroke his cock.
The screen flickered and the usual ads began, no smoking or talking during the movie, please silence your phones, what was coming soon… Suddenly, I heard that tiny hissing noise which I knew was the gas starting to fill the room, and I squeezed the boy’s hand.
I knew the screen would start to get fuzzy soon as he inhaled more of it. No one else would notice except for him, probably, since he was so hyperfocused on what was happening… Even as I began to feel that slow, delicious creep into my brain I couldn’t help but think of how excited he must be, how his heart would want to pound faster but would be slowed from the inside…
It would scare him, it would arouse him…
I put my hand in his hair, gently pet over and over, felt a rush of ecstasy in thinking how I was helping him go even as I felt my own muscles relaxing so deeply.
Please let me stay a little bit awake, I begged inside my own head, please let me watch this boy go under, please let me keep some amount of consciousness to help brainwash him, please…
I knew it wouldn’t matter. Whatever happened would happen.