One second she was there, and the next she was gone. Maybe it’s funny of me to say this, given what I am, but it was like a magic trick—beyond my comprehension. We searched tirelessly for days and found nothing; our beloved teammate had vanished from the face of the Earth and left a crater the size of a city in our hearts.

Maybe she really did leave the planet. My fellow magical girls get upset with me when I entertain the possibility, but they weren’t the ones who saw her disappear. She was eaten by the sky, through an unnaturally perfect circular opening in the clouds. She was gobbled whole, and I had to explain to her mom and sister why she wasn’t answering their calls. Why she isn’t at the dorm anymore. Why? I don’t fucking know. I just told them she’d ran away. Now, I’m missing my best friend more than ever.

The moon is so big tonight. So bright. Its pale, stolen light dances over my shimmering costume, specked in dark black ooze. We just finished dispatching a demon wreaking havoc in the local care home, trying to scam the elderly into signing soul-binding contracts in the twilight of their years, and now I’m covered in shit again. Coated in its death. These things crop up everywhere, from the depths of hell, and it falls to us magical girl teams to dispatch them—preferably before they can cause too much chaos. If Bree had been dragged down to hell, things wouldn’t be so complicated; we’d have rescued her within a week and forgotten about the whole ordeal. But she didn’t. Again, no matter how much my peers tell me I’m misremembering, she fell upwards. The moon’s glint once comforted me on nights like this—something so pristine and beautiful, and as far from Hell as one can get—but now, it appears sinister. I want to ask it if it knows something, but I feel ridiculous for the thought. It’s just a big fucking rock at the end of the day, and no amount of stink eye will pressure it into submission.

And so I walk home, having waved my teammates away with these long opera-style gloves—now caked in demon-blood—because I needed to be alone. Needed to walk and think and forget. Bree’s grandma was in the home we fought in, and mistook me for her. We always did—do—look a little bit similar, even without the dementia assisted face blindness. Erica, our leader, used to joke that we were both competing for the plucky blonde mascot role in our team, but I guess I don’t have to share that spotlight anymore. She’s been gone for a month now. One second she was there, and the next she was gone. The unyielding moon and its faraway secrets sneer in the starry sky, made midnight blue by the Earth’s atmosphere. Do we still breathe the same air, Bree? Do we look upon the same night sky?

Before I can continue my miserable train of thought, I’m startled by the sight before me. My gloved fingers tightly grip the shaft of my wand, ready for action.

“I’m not falling for your tricks, hellspawn!” I call out with pumped-up bravado, a little shaken up by the fact that I’m alone, in an alleyway void of life. I thought I was being efficient by taking the fastest route home, but now I’m aware of just how stupid it was to isolate myself so soon after Bree’s disappearance.

It’s a high level illusion spell; I shouldn’t underestimate this devil. Maybe a succubus, even. That would be just my luck…

“I said reveal yourself.” I point my wand up at the illusion—at the moon I had scorned only moments prior. It was subtle at first, and if I hadn’t been paying such close attention to the damn thing in the first place I might not have picked up on the way its glow has intensified to an unnatural level of brightness. The moonlight is almost blinding now, and where I had commented on its size in the sky before, it had not been unrealistically large. Now, it’s too close. The illusory celestial body swells into a well lit ceiling above me, reflecting its garish light against the wet concrete below my long white boots. Any attempt at subtlety has been dispensed with, the fiend instead favouring a brute force approach: amateurish mesmerism, though with a considerable amount of magical energy given the illusion’s grandeur. I’ve never seen one imitate the moon before.

Fortunately, dispelling illusions is one of my specialities. No matter how large the swell of magical energy, my wand can break any conjuration! Size isn’t important, because every spell has its weak points. The larger it is, the bigger those cracks. My hearts will exploit this mercilessly. I think I needed this.

“Flutter!” I hoist my wand up into the air and the heart at its end splits into a series of duplicates that each fly out towards the moon with impressive speed. They fly, flutter, and… fall.

Wait, what?

The bright circle of light above me intensifies. I blink in confusion, attempting to dispel it a second time only to find that my elucidating hearts fail me again. I cannot make a third attempt, because… my body feels so weak. My wand is too heavy to lift. I can barely even stand…

So weak… if that’s not an illusion, then…

“Ah!” I gasp in shock as my feet leave the ground. Oh, I’m floating. My body is sapped of all strength by the overpowering presence of the light above me, and my eyes cannot fully open due to its brilliance. Still, I stare out with a strain… and see the moon open up. A circle of teeth, twisting into an entrance.

Within seconds, it consumes me.

I dream of Bree. She’s sitting on a park bench, in her magical girl costume, beckoning for me to join her. God, she’s so pretty. I must be blushing. While cutting across the footpath to make my way over to her, I figure out that I’m dreaming. Not only that, but reminiscing. This was the last time we ever spent together alone before she was swallowed by the clouds. It’s a much nicer day here in the dream than it was in reality, with a clear blue sky and a gentle summer breeze. Bree sits, almost as radiant as that idyllic sun itself, and pats the spot beside her on the warming bench. I fill it quickly, all smile and sunshine, and we talk about the future. Boring shit, really. College, careers, places to live… and of course, romance. I don’t have it in me to tell her about my feelings, but she notices me hiding my face and teases me relentlessly for being bashful. I wonder if she knows why. I wonder, idly, if my head in her lap means anything, as she pulls me down with that infectious laugh in the middle of the perfect summer day.

My face is so red. We’re in public, still suited up, and I’m resting my head atop my crush’s thighs like it’s nothing.

Except… this is just a dream… this isn’t real. I don’t actually have a crush on Bree, she’s just a friend.

Fingers flow freely through my hair, and a voice like heaven graces me. Soft, sweet, and suspicious. She speaks like a lover, but the words are nonsense.

“Imprinting failed. Proceeding to wake the subject up in three… two…”

One.

My eyes flutter open to a bright light almost as blinding as that false moon. If it wasn’t an illusion, then what the hell was that huge circle in the sky, hidden in plain sight? Am I inside of that thing right now?

Panic floods me. Just where the hell am I? I move to sit up but find that I’m strapped into some kind of chair. It’s smooth; leather, I think. I can tell because I’m bound to it tightly and… oh god, I’m naked!

“Hey!” I shout out, my face turning as bright red as it had in my dream while I struggle fruitlessly against these tight leather straps. My eyes dart about the room frantically, getting a defensive lay of the land while I’m still alone. Perhaps shouting was rash, but it’s hard to keep my cool when I’m this exposed. They’ve placed some sort of spacer bar between my ankles to force my legs apart, meaning that I’m left completely vulnerable. Ugh. Even succubi aren’t this depraved… I feel like I’ve been reduced to an object, and a crass one at that.

The room is clean—overly so—with a sharp chemical scent like some kind of cleaning solution. It’s a clinical feeling room, the walls white and featureless and the door only made distinguishable by a rectangular seam running across that flat surface ahead of me. Almost directly above me, just a foot forwards, hangs some kind of mechanical contraption. Its silver chrome appearance is a nice change of pace from the blank white the rest of the room presents, though it’s almost too esoteric by comparison. There appear to be hydraulics involved, and an assortment of tubes and cables that all coalesce into an indecipherable hunk of metal and plastic looming above, only made all the more menacing by the fact that I couldn’t begin to take a stab at what it might be for.

The only thing I know for certain is that this isn’t the dwelling of any demonkind I know. And I’m fairly confident, though not completely sure, that I’m not inside of the Earth’s moon.

So… alien abduction it is. I feel so ridiculous, but it’s the only thing that makes any sense. If I’m really occupying some sort of holding, or even interrogation room on a bona fide UFO, that can only mean one thing: this must be the same entity that kidnapped Bree, too.

Knowing that, my panic turns to relief, and then to cold pragmatism. I don’t have the luxury of being afraid here, not while Bree could be in the same state—or worse—in another room aboard this… ship?

I quell my nerves and scan the room more carefully, searching for anything that could help me free myself before my captors make themselves known. Along with my costume, they’ve confiscated my wand, too. The only thing in the room, save for a side table to my immediate right and this chair I’m strapped down to, is that esoteric mess of machinery dangling from the ceiling like a grotesque chandelier. It’s too far to reach even if I manage to free my arms, though, so I don’t think it’ll be much help.

“Crap… I’m completely stuck.” Helplessness sets in. Without my magical power, I’m just a girl. At least it isn’t too cold. I really don’t like thinking for too long about why they’ve stripped me naked. Please tell me you’re alright, Bree.

Please tell me I’ll be alright, too.

“Of course you will, Verity.”

I’m startled by the voice in my head. It sounds just like Bree, but—magical as she may be—I don’t recall her being telepathic. Maybe I’m just hearing things because I’m so sleep deprived and thirsty. I really hope they bring me some water, my mouth is so fucking dry. If they have leather this smooth then surely they understand the concept of hydration, right?

I search the corners of the room to check something and sure enough, there appears to be some sort of surveillance camera keeping tabs on me. Go figure. The moment I lock eyes with the silver orb reflecting my gaze, the piece of wall I had correctly identified as a wall slides open with a whirr.

“Krkrkrkrkr.” Something spills into the room; one of my captors, I assume. Its body is coral pink with a glossy finish to it, and the shape is intimidatingly extra-terrestrial. It fills a good quarter of the room by itself and has no definable human shape I can identify. It’s a mass of pink tendrils, each appearing to writhe and curl independently of one another as they enter the room. Some latch onto the wall with sucker-like extremities that make me wonder if the horrible, seemingly eyeless creature is blind, while others simply hover in the air like they’re suspended in water.

“Wh-what the fuck…” I had suspected something alien, despite how absurd that would seem to anybody not already well acquainted with other-wordly beings, but seeing it in the flesh is something else. Just hearing that awful clicking noise it makes, that may or may not be a show of language, tells me that communicating with this thing is completely out of the question. Though… just because I cannot understand it doesn’t mean that it cannot understand me. I decide to leverage this, though not particularly gracefully; my nerves have begun to fray now that I’m faced with this thing.

“Please… l-let me go, okay? A-And my friend too, if she’s here. Please… can you understand me?” I breathe in deep as my panic begins to take control, and am met with the myriad scents of the room—each of them as strong and contradictory as the last. There’s that cloying chemical scent—like disinfectant—alongside the heady aroma of fresh leather. Then there’s the scent of my captor—thick and musky. I feel my cheeks heating up at the sheer concoction of smells in the air, and instinctively turn my face away to hide my shame. It’s so wrong… why is my body getting so…

“Krkrkrkrkr.” The thing filling the room like an explosion of slick pink tentacles responds to my questions with more incoherent noise. I can’t even be sure that it is actually replying to me at all, but I don’t really care. I’m too distracted right now; the room stinks like a sex dungeon. Or uh, how I imagine one might smell like, anyway…

“Caught you blushing,” speaks a coy female voice, light in tone and urgency. I’m startled, but cautious, because while the voice is human it sounds far too casual in this inappropriate setting. Worse than that, though, is how much it sounds like her.

“Bree? I-Is that really you?” My head turns in a rush towards the room’s entrance—towards the source of that familiar voice.

And there she is, standing in the small space left for her beside the pulsating mass she doesn’t seem remotely perturbed by. She stands alongside it like a colleague, which gives me pause. Like her voice—her face, too, is exactly as I remembered it, but her outfit is anything but. Black leather clings to her body with a mirror-like shine almost as blinding as the imposter moon. Her upper body is hugged tight by a high-neck leather crop top with a zip across the front, leaving her entire midriff completely exposed—save for a tattoo consisting of a sequence of foreign characters, or numerals, that I cannot make out. It almost appears like a serial number. It’s cut off by her high waisted shorts—also tight black leather—that barely reach her thighs before ending with another slither of bulging, milky flesh I can’t look away from—between where the shorts end and her long, thigh-high boots begin. Where our magical girl boots are long, they’re flat on the soles for practicality; Bree’s new footwear is not so concerned with such things, sporting an excessively high heel and elevated platform. Every part of her body, no matter where you look, appears like it came right out of a fetish magazine. And yet, the outfit is surprisingly uniform. Bree reaches up behind her head to untie her long blonde hair from its high ponytail and my eyes trace down from her long black fingerless opera glove, down to where it finally ends at her bicep, and to her perfectly hairless underarm.

Regal blonde curls spill down over glossy black shoulders. I’m dumbfounded, wondering why she looks so comfortable. If she were their hostage, forced into that tight, skimpy uniform under threat, she would still be showing signs of distress… wouldn’t she? Bree was never very good at hiding her feelings; for better or worse, she wore her heart on her sleeve. Now, I don’t know what she’s like. The woman in front of me is as alien as the monstrosity beside her.

“We’re so glad you’re here, Verity. After probing my mind for every juicy memory they could find, you came up as the most compatible to partner up with… and, because I’m already here, the conversion process will take a fraction of the time for you than it did me.” Bree smiles earnestly. “You won’t be able to resist the way that I did, and waste so much of… our overlords’ precious time.”

Her voice turned dreamlike by the end; empty. If it hadn’t already seized me, panic would be launching a full frontal assault on my composure at the showing my best friend is giving me. It’s not dishonest, I can tell that much. She means every word. Her hand flattens against the body of the creature to her left and her cheeks tint even redder than mine. Her eyes hood, and she looks at the alien being like you would a lover.

I, too, am smitten. I’m revolted by the way my heart skips at the sight before me, that strong, musky, erotic scent clawing its way into my mind and corrupting my judgement in real time. It’s like I’m under the spell of a potent succubus, except I know how to resist their charms. Here, I don’t know anything but unnatural, unwanted jealousy at the way my best friend lays her hands on the thing I should fear—but don’t. Not anymore. I’m blushing badly, wishing that I could press my fucking thighs together to hide the fact that—to my sheer horror, and dismay—I’m getting wetter the more I inhale the stuffy atmosphere of this cramped room we all inhabit.

“What… the hell is all this? You’re… a magical girl, Bree…” I’m trying to keep my cool, but that thing beside her is making me bite my lip. It’s ugly, and disgusting, and terrifying… and I’m starting to want it more than I want to escape. It’s that aroma, wafting through the air like control pheromones. I don’t know how Bree can stand so close, breathing it all in, and maintain her footing so perfectly.

“I was, until they found me. Now I’m property, Vee, and better for it. You don’t want to embarrass yourself here like I did in the early days, okay? Kicking and screaming and crying as they tinkered with the contents of a human brain for the very first time. It’s all figured out now, so uhm… things will be much gentler with you. I’ve been told it’ll feel good, even, especially with the new imprinting technique.” Bree takes a step closer, gliding her fingers up the underside of one of her slaver’s thick tendrils. My chest feels unbearably tight as I watch her hold up the twitching alien appendage while drawing ever closer. As she closes the gap between us, I catch that overpowering olfactory assault even more strongly than before and turn away again, scoffing in disbelief at just how aroused I am. My face is burning at the knowledge that my lust is on display, dripping onto the warming leather below, and there’s nothing I can do to hide it.

“Whatever…” I mumble, weakly. Why am I so turned on? I can barely think. I’m a magical girl… a hero who fights for justice and… “A-Ah!” I’m caught off guard by something warm and slick pushing against my naked thigh without warning. My head snaps back just in time for me to witness Bree guiding the tentacle in her hand between my legs—towards my leaking cunt. Oh god, I… it’s so big, I couldn’t possibly…

“It’ll feel really good, Vee. Really, really good.” Bree licks her lips, tilting her head up as another one of the alien creature’s tentacles slides around her neck and holds her in place like she’s little more than a doll. I suppose that makes sense; this isn’t my best friend anymore—just a body, manipulated by the will of its subjugators. She’s just their translator now, and my tormentor.

And, it would seem, their own personal sex toy. More tendrils wrap around her body, pushing under the tight leather packaging she wears like a kinky cut of meat and finding her own erogenous zones as they advance on mine. The sight of that already pornographic outfit now bulging with writhing alien flesh burrowing underneath and stretching the leather makes me feel sick.

Sick with need. I hate myself for it, but I don’t think I could bring myself to push this thing away anymore even if I weren’t so well restrained. “Hahhh… c-c’mon, do your worst. What’re you waiting for?” I feign bravado when I’m really just begging for the thing to hurry up and put it in me. My eyes are glued to Bree, who’s being fucked nice and good by the creature, her limbs trapped in coils while she—even now—manages to maintain constant eye contact with me. Her eyes are filled with pleasure and contentment. I feel so nauseous.

“You look so cute,” Bree tells me, between laboured breaths. I don’t feel cute; I feel like vermin. I shouldn’t be excited right now.

“Ghhhkk…” I grit my teeth as the cold tendril finally enters me, and I instantly understand why this thing can’t keep to itself. It covets our heat. I feel it warming up inside of me as it steals my warmth, and then I take another deep breath and find my body overheating beyond its natural limits. I see now… “Ahh… ahhnn… p-please, not so f-fast!” It’s filling me at an alarming rate, the tentacle getting girthier with each and every coral inch. Before long I’m groaning loudly at the way it stretches me more than any past girlfriend ever could, and still I’m unable to stop it. After a while my protests die, because I’m too exhausted to make any noise save for breathy pants that Bree seems pleased by.

“You’re—hahhh—doing so well, Vee. I love you, okay?” The shape of Bree is almost impossible to make out; she’s practically inside of that mass of tentacles now. I’m not even certain her feet are still touching the ground.

“Wh… what?” I ask with a tired gurgle, lifting my hips as best I can within my constraints while the tentacle continues to rape me. It’s… not fair that she gets all of that attention while I only have one fucking me. As though reading my needy thoughts directly, the tentacles finally begin to take to my flesh as greedily as they had Bree’s. I feel them curling around my ankles and sliding over my shoulders. The entire room is a mess of dancing flesh. It smells so good that I’m barely even conscious anymore, fully on board with anything my captor could possibly want to do to me—use me for. Sex never feels this good, usually. Except with Bree.

I… huh? No, that’s wrong. Me and Bree are just friends. Well, no, we’re more than that. We’re teammates, allies who would die for one another if push came to shove, but past that…

“I-I… hhnnngh… we’re not…”

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Bree teases me. I stare up at her with puppy dog eyes. I don’t love her, but this feeling… that’s another story.

“Yesssss… feelsgood…” I’m so ashamed of myself for caving to this feeling, but it truly is out of this world. Inside of me, the tentacle’s head grows bulbous and… active. Its rhythmic thrum stimulates my g-spot mercilessly, better than any massager ever could, and opens up into a series of smaller, slimier tendrils which lap at my tightening walls like tongues. I’m losing my fucking mind, rolling my hips like a needy whore while throwing my head back against the leather behind it. At some point, my composure falls apart completely. I start drooling down my chin and onto my tits like the alien cock is lobotomising me. I don’t even care about how stupid I must look. My eyes cross, the world fades, and all I can think about is the pleasure overriding my higher thought. Eroding my dignity. Making me seriously consider if becoming just like Bree wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Not long after, the tentacle finishes fucking me. Finishes using me. Finishes… priming me. I feel a build up of pressure in the pumping flesh. It hardens, then it erupts. I’m pumped full of extra-terrestrial seed like I’m to be some swollen human incubator, making an incoherent plea for it to stop as it empties itself like a fire hose. It’s too much. It’s just too much. Don’t get me wrong, it doesn’t hurt too badly—not really—but the stimulation is breaking me. It’s overwhelming, feeling the sheer amount of cum pushing its way into my body, flooding my womb, and then spilling out through the sides and painting my sweaty, naked thighs. It’s like something only a horny, degenerate loser could conjure up in their most shameful nightly fantasies. It’s the worst and best feeling a girl like me could ever experience.

And then, the feeling dies.

“Wh-where did it go?” I must have blacked out after… after that disgusting thing came inside of me. I… god. I can feel a warmth down there, and a deep itch I know I could never scratch by myself. Bree is still in the room; still smiling. Her leather costume, and her soft pink flesh, are coated in a sticky sheen that I can’t seem to look away from.

“She’s resting. How do you feel, Verity? You look tired. You should rest too, okay? This’ll take a few days, at least. That’s assuming you don’t resist too much.” Her voice is sweet and kind, but her words terrify me.

“What will? What… are you doing to me? Making me like you? Come on, Bree, snap out of it! This isn’t you… wh-why the fuck are you being so weird… and what’s with the leather?” I’m panicking again now that the placating scent of that monster has left the room. I’m realising just how docile it made me and letting the shame burn inside of me like motor oil, fuelling indignation that I need to reach Bree with, else I’m fucked.

Bree giggles, raising her arms above her head and stretching. I can hear her uniform creaking, it’s so hot. “It really isn’t that different from the magical girl costumes we used to wear, is it?” Used to wear? Whatever has been done to her, it’s clear she sees it as a permanent transition… and she already thinks the same for me, too. “Our overlords really like the texture and scent of it, and… can you blame them? Ahaha, no wonder most UFO sightings are about them abducting cows, eh?”

That’s so absurd a thought that I almost find myself distracted from the rest of her speech. Our overlords, eh? I… I don’t agree to being ruled over by some alien race that took me against my will and twisted my best friend into a near unrecognisable slut. Still, my eyes won’t leave her stupidly perfect body. The heat between my legs is driving me feral, a phantom touch still filling me out. I feel impregnated with a dirty lust for more, knowing damn well that I’d never forgive myself if I ever explicitly consented to having that monster inside of me again.

“Whatever, just… can’t you let me go?”

Bree’s smile is invincible. Seeing me like this doesn’t shake her even slightly. The way her eyes shine tells me that she truly believes in what they’re doing. She probably thinks she’s helping me. Ugh.

“Oh, Vee. By the time this is over, you won’t want your freedom. I promise, okay?” She steps closer, dropping her knee between my thighs on the slick leather chair and cupping the underside of my face in her hand. I’m overheating like crazy, wishing her knee was a little closer. Her lips on mine. I’ve never felt this needy in my fucking life and I know that it’s not normal. Ever since that creature filled me with its seed, which is still slowly oozing out of my cunt even now, it’s like my libido has been kicked into overdrive. I’m not as stupid as I’d been when wrapped up in that cloying scent, but I am certainly more desperate than I should be to have my body treated like little more than a toy.

I bite my lip, and respond quietly. “You know you’re only saying that because they uhm… brainwashed you. Yeah?”

“I know,” Bree returns candidly, her words cutting through my argument like a surgeon’s knife. I’ve never had a sexual fantasy about Bree before, she’s just a friend, but… I want her right now. I want her to shove her tongue down my throat before I can embarrass myself any further with my hoarse little protests. “But that’s okay. I’m happier like this, more content. It wouldn’t be effective brainwashing if I weren’t, right? I want this, so it’s okay. It might matter to you that I only want it because I was made to, but why would that matter to me? It’ll be the same for you, in a couple days. You’ll start to understand, Vee, that freedom and desire are all just matters of perspective. Subjective, and sometimes overrated.”

All I can focus on is that lingering scent clinging to her body. I need to stop drooling. I just…

“Bree…” I groan, my eyes pleading her. To what? I’m not sure…

“It’s time for you to dream, Vee. Let’s put you to sleep.” She gives an impish smile and leaves the chair, then raises her head to look at that esoteric apparatus above us. Am I finally going to find out what this thing is? Bree lowers it down until I can only see her through that mess of bunched up cables and metal arms. “The dream eater doesn’t hurt, Vee, but the glass fibres do tickle a lot at first. Just focus on the light and it’ll be a lot easier to sink deep into the state we need. Easier to forget about all those ticklish feelings, ahaha… uhm. It’s… a memory rewriting machine, basically.”

“What the fuck are you saying?” The heat corrupting my body seems to have frozen over, temporarily. I’m paralysed by fear, staring at the device in front of me as it’s clicked into place mere inches away from my wide-eyed stare.

“It’s our own fault for being so stubborn, but even then it’s not so serious. This entire process is really just to get over the language barrier so we can better understand how benevolent they really are. We were chosen, Vee. We should be honoured. Us guardians of the Earth, of humanity, need to accept our new leadership so that we can help enforce it down there.” Bree flips a switch on the back of the machine and it stirs to life with a heavy mechanical buzz that fills the otherwise quiet room. Lights blink across the two protruding arms by the device’s side, while the larger bulb in the centre of the machine is almost too dim to notice. Somehow, I find this thing far scarier than the actual alien I had been assaulted by just a moment ago. Or… well, I lost track of time, but it can’t have been too long ago.

“You’re speaking crazy, Bree… you wouldn’t want this. We’re magical girls! The whole reason we fight demons is to stop them from treating humankind like cattle. You’re just indoctrinated… I’m not even really talking to my friend, am I? I don’t know why I bother…” It’s because if I stop speaking, filling the dead air to drown out the sound of that buzzing machinery, I might actually lose my mind before they can even dig their claws into it. Fear dictates that my mouth doesn’t stop flapping until it’s made to.

“They sent me down there, you know? By myself.” Bree looks ashamed of herself for the first time since our reunion. “And I just… lost myself again. Between the distance from our overlords, and the communication barrier, I began to forget my true purpose within minutes. I wanted to go home, see my family. I wanted to reach out to you. I thought… about being a magical girl again. Fighting alongside you.” I watch—through the gaps in the machine—my friend’s turmoil play out as she recalls the memory. I feel sorry for her. She’s been ruined by all of this, and I feel her pain. But my pity is not as prevalent as my fear. I’m being faced with my future, aren’t I?

“Bree… I-I don’t want this.”

“They had to recall me quickly, before I did something stupid that I’d regret. I was a test run, and I proved lacking. The idea of pairs came up soon after. Partners. It’s… really smart and responsible. That way, we can lean on each other. Each used to keep the other in check. So… so that’s what this is for, see? It’ll make us inseparable. Two halves of one whole. It’s… they already used it on me a bit. I love you, Vee. Like… I’m in love with you, I mean it.”

Again, I can see it in her eyes. She isn’t lying. I don’t love her, though. I have a fucking girlfriend, for god’s sake. And… I’m pretty sure Bree’s dating a guy, too. Or was, before she went missing.

“Bree, you can’t do this to me. It isn’t right. It isn’t you.” At this point, I don’t really believe that I’m going to get through to her. Bree was a plucky blonde mascot on the surface, but she was struggling. Here, she looks happy. I’m not going to convince her to return to all that societal pressure and insecurity, I know that. The question is… was I happy down there myself? I think that I was… am… but I’ve never smiled quite like Bree is now. It’s not tempting, nor comforting, but it is a little mesmerising. It gives the same feeling you get when peering down a great fall. Vertigo.

“Oh, Vee. I just don’t care. I thought that being honest with you would be kinder, so I’m trying to do just that. If you’re expecting me to choose to do the right thing, then you haven’t been fucked hard enough yet. Pleasure is my moral compass now, okay? I’m just an alien cumdump. Save your appeals for someone who still has the capacity to care about all that protecting humanity shit. You think I did that out of the goodness of my heart?” The machine is brought closer until the arms rest directly beside my ears. I’m shivering cold, even though my body’s sweating more than ever. “I was a magical girl because it felt good—fighting monsters and saving lives. Made me feel like a hero, like I was important. Now, I’ve simply found something that feels better! That’s all there is to it, Vee… it’s not so complicated, really. They didn’t change my nature.”

“So… I’ll still be me?” A foam pad rests against my wet forehead as the machine she called a ‘dream eater’ clicks into place. I’m trying to follow her logic, thinking long and hard about if this blonde slut talking to me still resembles my friend in anything but appearance, but it’s hard to focus on anything ‘normal’ or ‘familiar’ when this entire situation is so insane.

Bree’s smile is inviolate. I almost feel reassured. “You’ll be better.”

Then, the second switch is flipped and that heavy buzz transforms into a high-pitched ringing sound. The dim bulb ahead of me—now almost close enough to touch my nose as the machine cradles my head like a helmet—begins to slowly brighten, and the arms to my left and right close in until they begin to nuzzle against my ears. I’m completely frozen, not even able to thrash against the restraints.

“It’s not like this is the first time you’ve been put under with this, Vee. But you were still hazy from the light then. You were too resistant then. Let’s see how you do this time.” Bree’s voice begins to fade into the background as the mechanical arms burrow deeper into my ears and the light ahead of me intensifies. Before long, I can barely see anything else; it reminds me of the illusory moon I had witnessed when I was first abducted, which must have been the alien craft itself.

Then, the most intense feeling in the world stops my thoughts entirely.

It arrests all of my attention, making me gasp and squirm violently—no longer so frozen—from sheer overstimulation alone. The mechanical arms that had fit themselves snug inside my ears open up to a series of glass fibres that bury themselves even deeper—too deep—into my head. They crawl, and crawl, tickling the insides of my ear canal more than I can bear, before reaching places where the nerve receptors end. That’s when the feeling gets really intense, though. It’s like my mind is being vibrated. I grit my teeth as bubbly spit escapes through the gaps, my eyes watering not from pain—nor pleasure—but a feeling no prior experience in my entire life could help me to describe. It is simply feeling itself, and more of it than any human being is surely designed to process at any single given time.

“Ah… ahhh… shhtoohp.” My tongue leaves my mouth of its own accord. The pulses of stimulation filling my head push out every other thought. Any distraction from the intense itch deep inside of me is eradicated by that incessant feeling. A long line of drool hangs down from the tip of my hanging tongue and I pant like an excited dog, fighting for a single thought of my own. One that isn’t simply about how overstimulated I am. The machine brute forces its way through my consciousness and burrows deep into memory. Hazy images of a scene from the past begin to flash through my head while my muscles spasm; loosening and tightening in a fruitless effort to alleviate the feeling. It’s the only sensation left. It’s everything. My every nerve is alight with excruciating tingles I cannot do anything to relieve. I see Bree’s eyes, pretty, and my hands in hers. I see a park bench… my head in her lap. Fingers, gliding through my hair. But I’m too distant. The memory is far too vague. I can’t focus on it. Can’t focus on anything but the feeling. I wish so very dearly for my soul to escape out of my body so that I can be free of it. I wish I forgot what feeling was.

And then, a saviour appears. A light—warm and bright and distracting. The bulb ahead of me finally intensifies to the point that the corners of the room—and the edges of the machine—are no longer visible at all. I’m so happy for the light, because it’s the only thing that has managed to pull my thoughts away from the feeling. The logical part of my mind understands these two are in cahoots, both part of the same machine and its process of picking apart my mind, but that part of my brain has been overwritten with feeling. As such, I have no choice but to turn myself over to the light. Give myself to it, freely, in the hopes that it will numb that intense stimulation my conscious self simply cannot bear. It’s akin to giving up information to prevent further torture, except I’m instead handing over focus. That’s… that’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with looking, I tell myself. I must give my attention to the light. It’s important. It’s practical. It’s smart. I’m acting in my best interest… given the circumstances.

“SLEEP.” The voice is robotic, but sounds just a little like Bree’s. I suppose she’s their only model for human speech right now. My body tenses up and I find myself sick with a dizziness unlike any I’ve felt in the past. I’m scared to obey, because I remember—distantly—what Bree had told me this machine would do. At the same time, I’m meek, and feel a need to be compliant to the light in case it chooses to return me to the feeling. My current headspace is so compromised that it doesn’t feel like the machine is giving me the command to sleep, but the bulb ahead itself. My ally against intensity. The only thing keeping me calm and sane wants me to sleep, and… why shouldn’t I? If I’m asleep, I won’t be conscious of that feeling anymore. I’ll be safe. Yeah… I… feel safe. With the light. I should do what it says.

“SLEEP.” The voice hits me harder this time. I can feel my entire body relaxing despite still being rocked with feeling. I can feel my eyelids growing heavy, my breathing slowing down. I want to sleep. Even if this does not feel like a natural sleep. Even if, by all rights, it should be impossible for me to sleep while my nerves are so lit up by those thin little wires in my head. Even if I know it’s all a plot to brainwash me. What choice do I have right now? None.

“SLEEP.” This time, I feel euphoric. It’s very similar to the way I felt coming out of surgery on strong anaesthetic. Bree had filmed me to immortalise my embarrassing behaviour as I was left giddy and disoriented. Still, she held my hand and kissed my head and told me it was all going to be okay, so…

Wait… what the fuck? That… that wasn’t Bree, that was…

“SLEEP.” My eyes flutter. What was I just thinking about? Why am I still fighting this when I need to sleep? I should just…

“SLEEP.”

“Ssleehp…” I agree, giving the light that controls me an empty smile as it starts to blink rapidly. It bores into my mind just as deep as the glass fibres, making me forget anything besides what I’m fed. My memory is pinned to a canvas and I’m made to trust the light, my ally, to take good care while I sleep.

“SLEEP.” My eyes fall shut. The flickering light shines right on through all the same, penetrating my existence with assistance from its sleeping subject. Sleep feels so nice… I don’t want to wake up. I feel more relaxed than I have since I was last in the doctor’s chair, being sedated.

As though to lubricate this process and sever any lingering resistance, the machine taps into that memory and begins playback. Soon, because I’m simply dreaming, the present becomes the past. I’m there right now, in the hospital. I’m waiting to be sedated and operated on. It’s what I want, so why wouldn’t I comply?

I let the doctor sedate me. I do everything she tells me. My vision goes fuzzy, I relax in the chair, and I sink a level deeper.

With sleight of hand I’m far too deep asleep to take notice of now, and far too obliging to care, the machine swaps out the memory of the surgery room with a more recent one. I once again find myself in the park, the last time I saw Bree. She’s sitting on a bench in her magical girl costume… or, no, she’s wearing that absurdly porny leather uniform I remember seeing her in… when she… uhm…

“Hey, don’t be a stranger.” Bree pats the empty space behind her, and I laugh. No, I blush. She’s so pretty.

“C-Coming!” I sound like a tongue-tied teenage girl speaking to her crush, hastily crossing the footpath to take my place beside her, where I belong. We talk for a little while, and I’m smitten. How could I not be? Bree is my saviour, stealing away the overwhelming nature of the world at large. In her light, none of my negative feelings, none of my doubts and insecurities and cynicisms, are permitted refuge. They are banished into shadow, while Bree shines on, speaking in her beautiful voice about the future while her fingers snake between my own.

I am made to understand, using words so deep and meaningful to me in this present state of deep, assisted dreaming: in the machine called fate, Bree is the light, saving me from the feeling.

“I love you, Vee.” She guides my head into her lap and I drool down her thigh as I feel my memory being violated by the metal rapist trying to indoctrinate me with distraction. It fucks my last memory of Bree with the intent to breed a new reality into my head that isn’t rooted in fact, but feeling. It perverts my relationship with my friend into something more than it ever was, and I can feel myself starting to buy into its bullshit because of how good they made it feel to escape. It’s how a lot of cults operate: they create an obstacle in someone’s life only to then offer a benevolent solution to the issue they manufactured. I’m on the precipice of falling for it, but… Bree isn’t my girlfriend… I have someone else.

I… have a girlfriend. I have a lover. She’s so important to me, but… I can’t access her name right now. What was it? Why can’t I remember? This fucking machine… these horrible creatures… they stole my girlfriend’s name from me. Her face, too. If they think they can just replace her with Bree, like this is a simple act of surgery, then they messed with the wrong magical girl!

I might not have my wand in the real world, but wearing this outfit in the dream, I sure as fuck have it here. My fingers curl around the weapon I’ve used to repel evil for almost a decade now. I won’t be tricked. I won’t be deterred.

“Flutter!” Magical hearts surround the pleasant scene, on this picturesque summer’s day, and dispel the illusion being forced upon me.

…

“Tch. You’ve always been Erica’s favourite…” Bree’s demeanour changes. Yes, that’s right. This is the real her. Her fingers tighten into my hair as I try to pull my head out of her lap. “It’s like I’m just your spare, to her. The backup blonde.”

She’s speaking crazy again. Bree’s my best friend, nobody else even comes close, but her jealousy is an ugly stain on an otherwise treasured friend—someone I consider like a sister to me.

“I mean, it’s just… different? Me and Eri are dating, so she’s going to show a little favouritism here and there. I’ve know you way longer than her, though, isn’t that enough?” Yeah. This is how it really went down. My face wasn’t red because I was blushing… it was because I was getting heated up. I’d known Bree since kindergarten, and she never let me have something of my own without wanting one too. Apparently that went for my girlfriend’s attention, too. Not just that, but her affection.

“I guess…” The real Bree sounds wistful. Her fingers loosen in my hair and she gives the saddest, loneliest laugh I’ve ever heard in my life. She’s so melodramatic, like we’re still in highschool. Maybe these costumes have gotten her all confused.

“I’m going to Erica’s after this, mostly just to study if you must know. You gonna be alright walking home on your own?”

Bree stands, transforming into her casual clothes in the middle of public like she hasn’t a care in the world. “Sure. Hey, have fun okay? Don’t worry about me, ahaha…”

Without waiting for my reply, she crosses the footpath and disappears into the daylight.

“IMPRINTING FAILED.”

When I next come to, I’m in the same white room I was when I’d drifted off. Once again, I find myself alone, left to replay the events leading up to my dream and the contents of the dream itself. That machine of theirs is back up by the ceiling, thank god, but I’m already dreading being forced through that again. They probed my memory for a weak point to take advantage of and it almost fucking worked.

But it didn’t. All I need to do is keep dispelling the illusion until they give up trying to trick me. Maybe they’ll let me go; maybe they’ll kill me. Either way, I won’t let them turn me into somebody I’m not. I’m a magical girl. I’m—

“You’re an incubator.” The machine above me whirrs, dim light blinking on and off like it’s been left on standby. Is that where the voice in my head is coming from? The static fuzz in the back of my mind forms words I never would, telling me things I’d rather not even acknowledge.

“Shut up,” I demand, more confident than I’ve been in my ability to resist this process than I had been before my victory. “I’m a magical girl.”

The door ahead of me opens up, and when I find myself faced with what’s left of Bree I no longer feel surprise, only pity.

“Saw you wake up on the feed. It’s been almost a week since we last spoke, but I bet it feels like less for you, eh?” Her smile is carnage. I wilt against it, finding my confidence begin to scuff.

“A w-week? No, that can’t be right, I…”

“The machine’s a little intense, doubly so when you’re fighting back. It’s not good for your mind to be pulled in two different directions like that. It takes a while for the neuroplasticity to kick in and fix you up. It’s… well, it doesn’t matter. You’ll get it soon enough, like I did.” The brainwashed agent smirks, stepping closer and tracing a finger up my naked inner thigh.

I blush heavily; not from the touch, but the scent she carries. Or, no… is that coming from me?

“Don’t worry, Vee. Your warm body wasn’t put to waste while you were out.” I hadn’t noticed at first, because I was distracted, but in her other hand is some long silver instrument. Another esoteric, alien device I can’t begin to figure out until it’s used on me, I assume. Ugh, I just fucking woke up. What now? “I’d tell you to spread your legs for me, pretty, but I can see you’re way ahead of me!”

“This is so wrong, Bree… I can see through all of this now. You know that, right? I’m not going to break. I’m a magical girl.” The last part has become something of my mantra; it’s an ironclad reminder of what I am. Like Bree said, they can’t change your nature.

I expect some enthusiastic rebuttal from the indoctrinated slut, but she doesn’t so much as lift her gaze up from my cunt to acknowledge my fighting words. “This batch has been incubating for over three days now, so they’re ready for extraction,” she talks to herself in a serious tone, running fingers through her hair before setting down the silver device between my legs on the couch seat.

“What’s this, Bree? Pink and ugly doesn’t want to rape me itself anymore? Can’t you at least use your tongue? That thing looks painful.” My bravado falters again. What the fuck is that? I’m trying not to let my fear show, but…

“This is an egg extractor, needed because your muscles aren’t relaxing properly now that you’re awake. It’s not painful, don’t worry. And… I’m not allowed to put my mouth on you yet, or I would…” My oldest friend gives a wry smile, arching her body forwards as she guides the cylindrical device closer to my oozing sex. “I really do love you so much, Vee… I know it’s because I was made to, but it doesn’t mean my feelings aren’t real in the here and now, y’know?”

“Doesn’t it?” It’s rich of her to plead for empathy and understanding while inserting that thing into my body against my fucking will. I turn away, staring at the blank white wall beside me like it’s far more interesting than the violation ahead. Only then, when I return to my thoughts, do I process what Bree had just said. “I-It’s a what?”

When I turn back, Bree is lubricating the metal shaft between my legs. Her smile, this time, is obnoxiously coy. “Before you’re ready to be their enforcer and procure some more suitable hosts with me, you’re being used—like I was—for their repopulation effort. Their home planet was made uninhabitable and in the chaos, there were so few survivors. Earth is good for them, Vee… it’s nice and warm, even before you consider our perfectly compatible bodies. Humanity will finally be useful in facilitating a utopia, instead of whatever the hell we’ve been doing for the past hundred thousand years. Isn’t that what magical girls like us should be striving for? Peace?”

“Listen to yourself…” I’m not delusional enough to think I can get through to her; my voice is quiet, fatigued. “Look, Bree. I think we’re—aahhhh… g-goddd.” Without warning, the silver shaft slides into my waiting wetness and like a glutton my cunt eats it gladly, without a hint of friction. I can tell I’m not as tight as I had been before my long sleep.

“No, you listen to yourself. Continuing to act like you’re above all this kindness, this purpose, while you moan like a whore for our instruments. Admit it, Vee, a part of you likes this. Just like a part of you did blush when I forced your head into my lap on that park bench. Why do you think we picked that one moment to focus on? A momentary lapse, a chink in the armour, and now you’re being stripped. Every moan and whine you let out is empowering that part of you that wants for pleasure more than it cares about being righteous or free.” Bree speaks quickly, frantically, like a zealot who understands the undeniable truths I’m too weak, too cowardly, to face. That’s not reality, though. She’s just a mind-broken loser, too fucked in the head by the comfort they’ve doped her up with and too desperate to justify her violations as anything but tragic.

She’s right about one thing, though: I do sound like a whore. I just can’t help it… ever since that first encounter with the alien creature, I’ve been so sensitive down there. Even this cold, lifeless metal rod filling me out right now feels impossibly good as it sinks inch by slick inch towards my waiting womb. A traitorous, needy part of me is shamefully happier for its presence because at least now that deep, primal itch for something phallic stuffing me has been temporarily neutered. I’m aware that I need to scrutinise this relief heavily if I’m to avoid becoming indoctrinated like Bree, but it’s impossible to deny the feeling itself. Feeling is my worst enemy.

“Mmmghh…” I press my lips together in an attempt to mute my pleasured groaning as the device presses against me and begins to remove whatever had been filling me before I woke up. I barely even noticed, because I’d gotten used to feeling hot and stretched down there already. The new normal is a terrifying frontier, in which old limits are distended and inseminated ruthlessly.

So when Bree slides the device out of my cunt, I half expect to be unperturbed. I’m not.

“Oh god…”

“Shh.” Bree gives me a playful wink, tucking her long blonde locks behind her ear as she takes the rack of six bulbous alien eggs into her arms. They’re slimy, and restless. It’s not until they’ve been removed that I realise that the itch I had felt was caused by that writhing movement I now watch through eyes wide as flying saucers.

“I’ll be back later, Vee. With Her. I can see how pent up you are, so just hold on for a few more hours okay? Love you!” She turns her back towards me, removing the sight of what I’d been incubating from my vision.

“Bree, I… I…”

“Yes, Verity?” She looks over her shoulder; the curve of her hot pink smile is cataclysmic.

“Hours?” I must sound like such a begging slut. I hate myself for this needy little question, but I can’t help asking it. Now that I’m empty, I feel… wrong. Hollow. Useless.

Bree giggles. “What are you, Vee?” she asks, sporting a smugness that tells me I’m being toyed with. She really is completely on the enemy’s side, huh? Enemy, that’s right. Anybody who comes to disturb the peace and freedoms of humanity are my enemy, because…

“I’m a magical girl.”

“Then you can wait. Cumdumps get to ride first.” How can she say that so nonchalantly? Bree was never so carefree, not really. Is that how they broke her?

Doesn’t matter. She fought and lost. At this point I need to focus on saving myself before I can even think about salvaging Bree. I’ll mourn her for now, so that they have one less angle to break me with. I’m a magical girl. I’m Erica Swan’s girlfriend. I’m a prisoner and a victim. I’m…

The door slams shut ahead of me. I’m alone. I’m a magical girl, and I’m all alone up here in the sky, where nothing magical ever happens. Where I so dearly wish I could clamp my fucking legs shut. The loneliness hits me harder than I could’ve anticipated. I’m so pent up, I…

“…so just hold on for a few more hours okay?”

I… can’t…

“Cumdumps get to ride first.”

Well, I’m not—

“Admit it, Vee, a part of you likes this.”

I don’t…

“I love you, Vee.”

“Shut up!”

I made the mistake of thinking I was truly alone, but I’m not. Tilting my head up, I spy the slowly blinking light of the machine somehow still inside of my head. I stare at it with a narrowing gaze, wanting it to know I’m not going to fall for any of this. Needing someone, anyone, to believe me. To affirm me. Because… I…

The machine blinks, and repeats more of Bree’s words. These were the ones I feared most, because I have no good rebuttal.

“Caught you blushing.”

END OF PART ONE