"Oh shit what's the date?" Sam sat up, jumping off Tyra's bed and onto her feet. Tyra turned in her desk chair to meet her best friend's wide eyed look of total panic with an indifferent, confused expression. A moment ago they were hanging out as they usually do on break, with Tyra doing both of their assignments as Sam reads manga on her bed, a break from this tried-and-tested regime had the blonde at a loss.

"Why? You regret wasting the break playing games in your room and imitating my non-existent pet cat?" Tyra smirked, finding it impossible to hide her amusement at Sam's sudden flustered face. 

"No you dipshit! Well, yeah kinda but what I mean is... hasn't the break gone, y'know, a little too quickly?" Sam inched closer, looking concerned over the fleeting nature of their shared time back at home, it's sweet but kind of immature...

"I mean, literally! Like, I literally remember the break starting like yesterday. As in, like, literally yesterday. I mean... like, how did I even get here? Y'know? You feel me? I literally don't remember how I ended up in your room right now, like... uh... I mean... literally speaking... y-y'know?" She rubbed her arm, a weak expression of doubt plaguing her face. 

Meanwhile, Tyra's face was one of dumbstruck curiosity. She had to wonder if Sam was on something illegal, but then worst of all, she realised that through the recycled three phrases... what her friend said actually made some sense.

What had they spent their break doing? Whatever it was, she had no memory of it an apparently neither did Sam. 

Seeing no other option, the two decided to consult the most powerful tool for investigation know to man, google search!

Tyra ventured downstairs to retrieve a chair for Sam, while the tomboy in her room started to poke around nosily. Having been living in college dorms for months now it had been a while since she got to perv on her straight best friend. Rachel was the same, of course, but the idea of the much wiser Rachel allowing Sam passage into her room was a laughable fantasy. 

Despite how shook she was from the realisation both she and her friend had a shared loss of memory, she still found the time and resolve to search for Tyra's dirty secrets. She had hoped to find a vibrator or some kind of toy in her underwear drawer or under her bed somewhere, but found nothing juicy. The most scandalous item she managed to unearth was a pair of fishnet stockings, which was quite significant considering how straight laced Tyra was. Sam seriously doubted the girl had ever, or would ever wear those, it just seemed too uncharacteristic. Feeling rather defeated in her intrusive mission, Sam just crossed her arms and sat in wait for her friend. The girl wore white trainer socks, denim shorts that had obviously once been jeans, a skull & crossbones belt and a black tank top reading 'GAME OVER' in white lettering. 

Tyra re-entered the room, herself dressed in a loose pink skirt and white blouse, wearing red polka dot panties underneath and black pantyhose which she would have taken off had Sam arrived a few minutes later than she did. 

"So, uhm, let's get to the bottom of this." She said, sort of inspirationally but not really, placing the dining room chair beside her desk for Sam and returning to her comfy office chair. The two leaned in to huddle around the computer monitor, as Tyra typed out the first search hoping for some useful results.

Hours passed with the to girls trying and failing to find relevant information pertaining to their unlikely experience, both starting to grow tired of the impromptu investigation when Sam came across a thread on her phone from a user claiming to be from the same backwater town that they were. The thread had almost no attention and Sam was shocked that she even managed to find it, but the OP claimed that there was a creepy radio station that messed with your memory if you listened to it for too long. It sounded like a fake story or even possibly an ARG of some variety, but Sam and Tyra found the coincidence too uncanny to ignore. Supposedly, the radio broadcast was simply of a monotone but clear female voice reading out numbers one at a time, seemingly at random and with a bell chime every five or so numbers. The station was described as being broadcast 24/7 and never repeating patterns of numbers, though the poster claimed that their own memory of the station could not be completely trusted. The post ended by giving the frequency of the radio broadcast, advising curious parties to investigate at their own risk in a rather overdramatic sign off. 

The two girls shared glances, wondering if this could be the strange, creepy cause of their stolen summer break. They briefly worried about the consequences of falling into the same trap and losing even more time, deciding that it would make much more sense for one of them to listen with headphones while the other observed. Tyra borrowed her old fashioned mother's old fashioned radio, which thankfully had an aux cable port. Plugging her earbuds, she tuned the radio to the supplied frequency half suspecting this to be nothing but a shitty online hoax. 

Noise came from the earbuds, though it was too hard to tell what was being said the voice did sound like a woman's. 

Sam looked at Tyra, then at the earbuds. "So, uh, who... y'know...?"

"Well, it is your house and your headphones, soooo..." Sam leaned back in her chair, raising her arms up over her head and resting her hands behind her head in a show of triumphant relaxation. A posture to indicate something along the lines of 'Hey, good luck pal, I'll be here keeping a close eye on ya.'

Tyra sighed and rolled her eyes, the much less paranoid of the two over this stupid radio thing anyway. She poked the buds into her ears and sat back into her office chair, the small radio sitting on the desk beside them. Immediately, she was met with the emotionless yet strangely sonorous voice of the woman on the radio.

"11. 27. 54. 26. 41. 33. 98. 87. 51. 16."

The thread was accurate, the voice just read two digit numbers seemingly endlessly and apparently randomly. If there is any meaning or sense to it, that is lost on Tyra who just sits there in her chair, confused and slightly uncomfortable. The girl found the station simultaneously fascinating and boring. Listening to it was just repetitive and unchanging, but the mystery of it and the associated myth made it all the more interesting to her. 

"48. 28. 53. 21. 73. 97. 35. 59. 22. 60."

Eventually, Tyra pulled out the earbuds and glanced at her wide eyed friend, taking a deep breath. 

"So it just seems like the post described. It just constantly reads out two digit numbers, I guess... for whatever reason that may be, I mean, isn't that like a military thing or something? I heard about these things before, it's probably something simple and boring."

"Uhm, yeah but..." Sam was staring, which made Tyra's eased nerves begin to tense once again.

"But what? It's just like I said... no memory loss or anything, see."

"Yeah but... you know you were saying all those numbers out loud, right? You sounded so creepy." 

Tyra blushed and then, she swatted the earbuds out of her lap reflexively. 

"Woah, calm down maybe you're jus--" Sam was cut off by another voice in the room, seeming to cut through whatever weak excuse she would give for Tyra's actions. 

"19. 56. 30."

The girls turned to the radio and realised that Tyra's flustered swat had unplugged the aux, making the radio broadcast play aloud in her room. Both turned to observe each other rather than moving to silence the radio, too intrigued by the strange phenomenon and the odd thrill of the situation not to. 

"99. 37. 22. 83. 45."

Sam's lips twitched and she started to mouth along with the numbers without realising, only noticing that Tyra was beginning to do the same. Their hearts were beating fast and their heavy breaths began to sync up.

"81. 73. 29. 10. 17."

Tyra began to think how pretty both the woman on the radio and her friend Sam's voices were, as she unwittingly read out the numbers with the broadcast and her best friend. Her best friend in the whole world, such a great, amazing friend. She beams, a simple expression of glee. It's just that she was starting to feel warm and happy as a realisation began to overtake her.

"34. 59. 27. 11. 24."

Sam fidgeted, trying her best to think about keeping her mouth closed, trying to hold her breath, trying to sing a song. Despite her attempts, she found the feedback unconvincing. No matter what her treacherous brain may have been telling her, the girl knew that she must have been reading the numbers out just as blankly as Tyra. She felt so confused, so intimidated by the feelings flowing through her. Too late did Sam notice that the corners of her vision were beginning to fade, leaving only her perfect friend. Tyra's beaming face, so full of emotion yet too simple to be full of thought. Did Sam look like that? All surface, no depth? Was she really thinking much besides simple little observations of her friend's beautiful expression? Wait, what was she...

"15. 52. 71. 90. 29."

Both girls stared transfixed by each other's visage, unable to break their longing gazes or stop dutifully reading out the numbers, feeling something powerful boring down deep into their open minds. A few droplets of drool falling from Sam's chin and onto the 'GAME OVER' on her tank top. Tyra began to feel hot in her blouse, squirming uncomfortably but not having the brainpower to make the connection and unbutton it. 

"47. 82. 72. 12. 45."

Neither could tell how much time had passed by this point, it could have been minutes or maybe hours. They continued to read out the numbers happily, not really caring about anything so complex as time as they admired each other completely. Sam's jaw had dropped, sagging down after each number and sluggishly picking back up when she has to speak. The time between each number felt so long, like a perfect eternity. The front of her tank top was damp from the prolonged drooling, while Tyra's blouse stuck to her chest from her stuffy perspiration. Neither noticed, neither knew anything besides a deep love for one another, a boundless gratitude to the entity that showed them this and an overpowering compulsion to read the numbers on the radio.

Knock Knock.

No answer.

Tyra's mother opened the door to her daughter's room, checking on the two girls after not hearing a peep from them all night. The woman found the two slumped in their chairs, staring at each other through lidded eyes. Tyra's legs were splayed out, giving a clear view of her soaked polka dot panties, while Sam's chin and top were covered in spit. Both girls spoke with the radio.

"12. 83. 86. 32. 71."

Then a bell chime rang and they repeated another five numbers blankly. 

"Oh my..." Mrs. Dayone said to herself, taking in the sight of the room and moving to open a window. "It's nice to hear your voice again, Maxine." The woman continued, before turning off her radio and snapping her fingers imposingly. 

Sam and Tyra's eyes flickered into sleepy, startled gazes which darted about the room frantically as they attempted to figure out what was going on. Both sets of eyes fell on Tyra's mother, who stood over them with a difficult expression to read. 

Sam sat up and brought her arms to her chest, while Tyra clamped her legs shut and tugged at her blouse with a sigh, wiping away her matted hair. 

"Drinks? You must be thirsty." The older blonde woman handed the girls bottles of water, nobody in this town trusted the tap water and for good reason.

"Yh-Yeah... thanks Mrs. Dayone." "Mm, t-thanks mom." 

Gulp. Gulp.

The woman sat herself down on her daughter's bed. "Sam, Tyra, let me tell you girls a story." She gestured for Tyra to hand her the radio, which the girl obliged quickly. From the radio, she pulled a polaroid photo that had been placed inside of the covering. Tyra and Sam leaned in with apt curiosity, it had been a curious evening but this was just way too mysterious for either to contain themselves. Wait, evening? It was midday right? 

The polaroid showed two girls of roughly their age, one looking rather like Tyra and the other like Sam. 

"Is... is that my Mom? I never knew her b-but..."

"It started on the night of the 31st, October 1989..." Mrs. Dayone began, seeming to ignore Sam's questioning. 

October 31st, 1989, Lucinda Dayone's bedroom

"Trick or feet!" Max shouted, wrapping her arms around her best friend's ankles and starting to mercilessly tickle Lucinda's sensitive soles. Lucy squirmed and kicked, giggling like a teenager despite being on the tail end of 19. She eventually wormed her way out of Max's iron grip and threw a cushion at the other's smug face. Direct hit! Both girls crashed down onto the bed and laughed until their sides hurt, despite the situation only being worth a chuckle at best. 

"Y'know it's Halloween right, we might be too old to go knocking on doors but we should do something besides the usual practice of me corrupting your little catholic mind with the sin of bitchin rock and roll records." 

"Hmm, perhaps. I don't know I just... there's not really anything interesting to do in this town, you know that right?" Lucy shrugged. "Besides, it's cold outside!"

"Don't be such a baby or I'll tickle ya some more, c'mere!" Max jumped on Lucy, about to unleash her ultimate move on the girl before the phone rang. 

"Hey, that your folks' phone I hear?" The two were alone in the house, Lucy's parents taking her younger sister out trick or treating. 

"Uh, yeah, why?" 

Max grinned. "It might be a lead! I asked Roxy to call your house if she found a way into that creepy radio tower building, the abandoned one. 'Member? We found it in the woods, then got chased off by the sheriff. It's like some real Twilight Zone shit I tell ya, there's some secrets going on there I need to unearth." She took a breath and headed out into the hall, running down the stairs and picking up the phone. "Mhm, yeah. Ahhh okay okay gotcha, oh that's grand thanks a bunch Rox. Be there soon okay! Don't you dare go on ahead I wanna be at the front!" 

Max grabbed Lucy by the sleeve and after a quick shuffling of jackets and shoes, the two found themselves running towards the woods with varying levels of enthusiasm.

The area outside of the fenced off radio tower was empty, much to Max and Lucy's surprise. The two girls had varying levels of concern and anger, heaving through the reported gap in the fence with varying levels of eagerness.

The inside of the building at the tower's base told the girls that the place really was abandoned, if the location and overgrown vegetation outside still had not cleared that up. The atmosphere really was creepy, the darkness of night only helping it in that department. Lucy found herself clinging to Max on multiple occasions when she thought she heard a rat, though the place was surprisingly clean just... empty. 

Many electrical cables of some nature ran through the corridors, leading the girls to a door that all the cables either ran to or from. Strangely enough, that room was the recording booth, or one of them at least. 

Pop!

"Ahhhh!!!" Lucy screamed, only for Max to let out a sharp lough. 

"S'just my gum girl, shaddup! We're gonna get caught by the sheriff if ya keep screaming it at silly things." She placed her hand on Lucy's shoulder and smiled. 

The two creaked open the door and, with a flashlight, peered inside. The sight that greeted them was not what either had expected, not that they expected much of anything. 

Roxy, their unaccounted for third friend, was sat slumped in the recording booth chair. The girl was staring transfixed at a bulky computer screen which simply flashed with huge two digit numbers, which were replaced with new numbers everytime she read them out into the microphone. A bell sound rang out through the room, making Roxy shudder in her chair. She was hooked up to some sort of machine, which most of the cables were attached to. The machine looked other-worldly and was able to attend to the girl's every need, eliminating the need for her to ever do anything but read the numbers, ever again. Roxy was happy to do this, as she forgot who Roxy was. She forgot that she even had a will, she just read numbers. 

Max and Lucy stared at the sight before them, not knowing what to make of the sight. They turned their heads to see another girl in the dark corner of the room, who looked disoriented and just as confused as they were. Just as Max moved to approach the girl, a hand pulled her back by the shoulder and did the same to the meeker Lucy. It was the sheriff. 

"What am I b-being detained for? Just what the hell was going on in there? Why was Roxy--"

A bright flash filled the interrogation room and Max's eyes went blank, her face going limp. 

"Now, listen here girlie, can ya do that fer me?"

"Yeahh, okay."

Lucy, who was sat next to Max at the metal table, was just as affected by the light, but felt like more of a passenger as she had already been told what was what by the sheriff. 

"That's good, now... there ain't no need to be goin' an' investigating the old radio tower, you don't know of any radio tower. You don't know anyone called Roxy, do ya?"

The sleepy Max shook her head.

"Good girl, that's correct. Now beat it, kids, happy Halloween or whatever."

July 13th, 2001, Lucinda Dayone's house. 

"I'm just relieved to finally not have that little devil in me, I don't think pregnancy suited me. Well, I'm sure you of all people understand!" Lucinda laughed, having been at the hospital the same time as Maxine when they had their daughters, so realising she was preaching to the choir, or at least another choir singer. Maxine laughed back, crossing one leg over the other and polishing off her second glass of wine. 

"You're tellin' me, you always had that catholic thing goin' so you could pull off the housewife better than I. My Sam's ruined my hot goth, punk vibe. Now I'm all... mother-y."

"You could always go for the hot goth, punk MILF vibe!" Lucinda giggled and caught up to her friend on the wine front. 

Maxine's eyes fell upon the small radio sat on Lucinda's dresser and gestured to it. "That new?"

"Yeah, it was free so I--"

"F-free? Where can I get one of these magical, free radios? What the heck?!" Maxine was green with jealously, inspecting the thing as though it were some invaluable artefact, when it was in reality a relatively cheap little thing.

"Uh, you can borrow it if you want." Lucinda grinned, despite being a woman now her best friend was still just a kid. 

Maxine sat cross-legged on her bed, staring down at the radio. There were no shops in this tiny town that sold radios, so this was a big deal to the working class woman in the town lost to time. Eagerly, but gently, she began to turn the dials until a station began to play. It sounded awful, so she pulled the antenna out and turned the volume up... voila! A working radio, wow. 

The woman played with the thing for hours, sometimes listening to a station for a while and occasionally just messing around with it and making funny noises. Eventually though, she changed the dial to a frequency that happened to be a random nearby station... a numbers station.

"99. 33. 52. 13. 45."

She heard the sound of a bell chime and her eyes opened wide.

"Oh my god... Roxy!"

"Roxy... who?" Lucinda asked quizzically, sounding concerned over Maxine's mental health. In her mind, neither of them had ever known anybody with that name, nor of any conspiracy about a radio tower or anything remotely like that. 

"I'm tellin' you, awh, just listen! I'll only play it for a single set, I lost my entire evening yesterday just zoning out to it and uh... obsessing over my bedroom wall like it was the most fascinating thing in the damn universe."

Maxine held the radio up to the phone receiver.

"12. 82. 34. 80. 97."

Ding.

"Wait, why were you saying it too?" Maxine asked, a shiver running down her spine."

"I-I was gonna ask you that."

"Shit, I'm gonna... I'm just gonna go to where I remember that place being, you sit tight and call anyone if I get into trouble okay?"

"Uh, how will I know?"

"I'm gonna stay on the call, it'll cost me a fortune but it's better safe than sorry."

Max shivered in the cold, partially eager to get into the building as quickly as possible just to warm up a little but equally as terrified of what she may find inside. 

The gap in the fence had been fixed, but determined not to turn away at the first sign of challenge the 31 year old woman deftly climbed over, using the chain link as footholds. 

The place felt surreal to her, both new and familiar. Her memories had been tapered with somehow... and it had something to do with the old sheriff. The new sheriff, Miss Mayshaw, might have been in on it too, thought Maxine with a pit forming in her stomach. 

She reached the room in which all cables converged, where her friend Roxy was once sat emotionless and obedient to the screen before her. 

Opening the door, Maxine found...

Her old friend Roxy, or Roxanne. She was the spitting image of 19, looking and acting just as she had the last time Maxine was in this room over a decade ago. A few things had changed. Roxy was completely naked, sat on a leather chair which had cables running into it and wearing a helmet and collar with a glass visor. It looked like a tacky sci-fi movie from, coincidentally, the eighties.

The recording booth carried the unmistakable, distinctive scent of sweat and female masturbation... though by the looks of it, Roxy had not been masturbating, just getting wet and building to climax over and over from the stimulation of the ringing bell and possibly the machine she was hooked up to. 

Maxine was disturbed and confused, her old friend looked like a mess, but she looked so young and pretty still. She appeared to be hygienic, the current mess only being from the current day or at most the past few days.

"21. 43. 54. 23. 86."

Ding.

Roxy shuddered, her hips bucking up and her bare back arching against the moist leather supporting it as she rode out another climax.

"44. 23. 63. 78. 45."

Ding.

Again, Roxy seemed to twist and thrash as another orgasm washed over her, causing her parted pussy lips to ooze out her arousal, coating the seat in more... What was worse, Lucinda was repeating the numbers and making the same noises on the other side of the call...

Maxine had seen enough, trying to ignore the sight before her and the inescapable smell as she marched forwards and attempted to pull Roxy by the wrist out of her chair.

Surprisingly, Roxy stood up with no resistance and just stared blankly at the screen, continuing to read out the numbers and shudder violently at the approving bell chimes. Maxine felt how warm Roxy's skin was to the touch, like she was sat in front of a fireplace. The woman covered Roxy's eyes, but the girl never actually needed the screen to know the numbers, not anymore. The woman covered Roxy's mouth, but found that her own traitorous mouth began to do Roxy's job for her. Maxine desperately tried to look away from the screen and then when that failed, to close her eyes. She was too transfixed, finding the strange random yet enticing order of the numbers to draw her in, pull her closer towards the screen until she found herself lowering down onto the cum-soaked leather. 

"Nnh... 32... 25... 12... sst-op... 78......gh, 83."

Ding. 

"Hhahhh..." She released a breathy, strained pant and tried to find a way to regain her senses. Roxy retreated into the dark corner, no longer needed now that the replacement had arrived.

Maxine struggled against the chair, despite there having been no restraints, the woman felt the numbers echoing throughout her head as they had the evening prior. She stared dead ahead at the screen. The pretty, perfect screen. The screen was so wonderful, it made her exhale with a slight smile.

"93. 72. 24... Nnhoo... 65. 30."

Ding.

The chime rang through her head and made her feel warm and confused. With every number she read, she heard her best friend Lucinda repeat blankly, making her so much more relaxed. 

"55... 82. 44. 10...nnh...12."

Ding. 

She felt wet between the legs, slippery between her thighs, stuffy in her clothes, tingly in her fingers and toes, dizzy between her ears. Everything felt so good to her, as she read out the numbers she did not understand nor care to.

"10. 9. 8. 7. 6."

She repeated the numbers obediently, her voice slowly becoming more and more monotone. She was too far gone to notice the strange departure from randomness, the single digit numbers and chronological backwards order. She did, however, notice the lack of a bell, which made her squirm in her seat. Her seat? That sounded nice, it was her seat now!

"5. 4. 3. 2. 1."

The helmet and visor lowered onto her and the collar snapped around her neck, Maxine's eyes bugging out and then rolling in pleasure, feeling electricity coursing through her making the tingles so much stronger and... her hips bucking up, back arching from the dripping backrest... Maxine came.

The two girls stared at Lucinda Dayone with wide eyes, finding it hard to believe but also wondering why Tyra's mother would tell them a random, fictional story so lewd and personal to Sam. 

"I may have had to take some educated guesses there and my own memory is as reliable as it can be, given the circumstances. I thought you deserved to know, but as you can imagine, I've had a hard time figuring out how to tell you without sounding like some perverted conspiracy theorist or... well, that's all I've got. Uhm, that's Maxine on the radio, I can tell. She has such a beautiful voice."

"Rrright, but, so my Mom is in town... in a radio tower building, uh, fucking a chair, forever 31? That's... yeah, no, yeah... perverted conspiracy theorist is a pretty fucking good diagnosis if you ask me!" 

Sam stood up, looking more than a little upset, while Tyra idly wondered if she was about to witness a catfight between her Mom and Bestie. 

"No no, it's true, how else do you explain it? I mean just think about it, this town is so off the grid that shady corporations just love taking advantage of the laxness... just take a look at Blisscorp, they're clearly a part of this whole mind control kidnapping th-- Sam? Dear?"

Sam seemed to sway on her feet, eyes glassy and distant as though her mind had been hit with the pause button. She was mouthing words, but they seemed to be her repeating instructions to herself rather than words meant for another. Then, the girl pulled out her phone and began to ring a saved contact. 

Tyra was still taken aback by the unlikely story, now this? The girl concluded that she must have been dreaming. Tyra's mother Lucinda, on the other hand, was lunging forwards with a shocked expression to try and cut off Sam's ringing phone.

It was too late, the call went through and a monotone Sam spoke the words. "Lucinda Dayone..." Lucinda tripped, missing Sam who moved away robotically. "Tyra Dayone..." Tyra perked up, like a lost cat, she really just felt so surreal, why was her friend on the phone with Blisscorp?

There was a knock on the door, followed by the sound of it being opened. Tyra watched as the figures in black burst inside, followed by Sheriff Mayshaw. 

"Evenin', Ladies, now lookee here okay?" Miss Mayshaw held up a small silver object, which then flashed brightly and calmed everybody down.

"Maaaaan I can't believe summer break is ending, it was fine when we were at school cuz we'd just live the same but with more boring school, but now we gotta move away and stuff and do actual work which sucks. I'm actually kinda dumb, y'know, hella dumb. College blows." 

Sam lazes around on Tyra's bed, stretching her limbs dramatically and then looking over at her friend. "Shit, I musta spilled that water down my top! How'd I manage that without noticing?"

Tyra swivels around in her chair, giving Sam a sceptical glance. "You're hopeless." She grins. "Well your summer wasn't completely wasted, you got a memento at least!" 

"Yeah I guess it is pretty nice, your Mom used to be cute, now she's just hot." Sam twirls the polaroid around in her fingers, before pocketing it. 

"Got any idea where Rachel is, anyway?" Tyra asks, annoyed that her other bestie had ditched them.

"Nah, well, not really. Rach said something about investigating some old abandoned... place, not really sure. Some tower, sounds real boring, like a lot of effort y'know?"

"Hmm, well, whatever!"