Alien Mind Control From Planet P

Alien Mind Control From Planet P

Chapter 9

By Gary LM Martin

Clarissa Pepperson was feeling pressured. All she had done was go to her doctor to get the latest NR-1 flu vaccination. She hadn't really intended to, but her best friend Natalie kept nagging her about it after she got hers, telling Clarissa that it was better to be safe than sorry, and that she would feel really good about it.

And Clarissa did feel good about it, after the brief post-injection headache wore off. Before he had given her the vaccine, Doctor Taney had smiled at her and said, "You may feel a little sting as this goes in."

Clarissa had looked away. She didn't like needles. She had felt the sting as it was injected into her arm, but the sting didn't end there. It had spread like heat into her chest, and then all over her body.

Clarissa gasped.

"Easy," said Taney, gripping her arm tightly. Too tightly. "It will all be over soon."

Clarissa heart raced. She felt the heat go into her head. In moments she felt a pounding inside her brain. She grabbed her head and screamed.

And then, the pain was gone.

Doctor Taney looked at her expectantly.

"Contact has been made," said Clarissa woodenly.

"It certainly has," said Taney. "You understand your instructions?"

"I am to encourage all my friends and family to get the NR-1 vaccination. And I am to spread the Infection as far and wide as possible." The words came out of her mouth, but Clarissa felt like someone else had spoken them.

"Very good," Taney smiled.

As she drove home, Clarissa tried to process these new thoughts. Who would she infect first?

Your husband.

"Paul? No!" said Clarissa.

Although Clarissa had been fully Infected, she still felt feelings of loyalty to Paul. She wanted to protect him. Her reaction was not uncommon; nearly half of the Infected harbored reservations about Infecting close family members. The Infection influenced behavior, but didn't always determine it.

You must Infect your husband.

"No," said Clarissa, speaking aloud again. "Can't we make some kind of deal?"

Deal?

"What else can I give you instead of my husband?"

Infections. Many Infections.

"What if I Infect a few people a week?" Clarissa asked.

Insufficient.

"What if I Infect a new person every day?"

Insufficient.

"What is it that you want?" Clarissa asked desperately.

Three.

"What?"

If you Infect three of the Uninfected per day, your husband will be spared.

"Three? How am I do find three people to have sex with every day?" said Clarissa.

The choice is yours. Infecting your husband would be much easier.

"No," said Clarissa. She started to perspire. "Ok. I don't know how I'll do it, but I will. Three a day."

When she got home that evening ,she thought incessantly about it as she prepared dinner for Paul. How would she find three people to have sex with every day?

She was still pondering that when Paul came home.

"Hello, honey," she said, giving him a hug. "How was your day?"

"Tiring," said Paul. "I feel kind of worn out."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Clarissa.

"Maybe I should get that flu shot. You got that today, didn't you?" said Paul, sitting down to eat.

"Yeah, but I wouldn't recommend it," said Clarissa. "It gave me an upset stomach."

"Did it? I hope you're feeling better," Paul said. He put his hand over hers, and smiled. She smiled back. She loved him so much.

And then a thought occurred to her.

Did I just give him my pheromones?

No. You actually have to will your body to produce it. He will not be dosed by your touch, unless We want it To.

Unless we want it to.

The thought gave Clarissa the chills. There was an alien intelligence inside of her, manipulating her, controlling her body.

The next day, Clarissa made appointments with her hairdresser, manicurist, and masseur. When she went to see Sally the hairdresser, Sally was only too willing to have a word with Clarissa in the back. Only the word took about a half hour, the entire length of Clarissa's appointment. Clarissa didn't get her hair done, but she was in such a hurry that she didn't mind.

Clarissa had never been with another woman before, but the Voice guided her through it. She got through it by not focusing on what she was doing, thinking only of Paul. Dear sweet Paul, she thought, as she rubbed her naked body against Sally on the backroom couch. Sally, drugged out of her mind with pheromone, was hardly in a position to object.

Clarissa went to Infect her manicurist later that morning. She began to fall into the familiar routine. First she requested to go to a private place where a vague but urgent matter needed to be discussed. Then she gently started working on the subject's hands while the pheromone was released. Then, as resistance faded, she worked on spreading it over as large a surface area of skin as possible. Then she removed her clothes, as well as her victim's. And then she Infected them, without any real resistance.

At first Clarissa was disturbed as her victims moaned with the pain of Infection. But she quickly got used to it. After all, the pain was only temporary, and the Voice assured her it was a small price to pay for becoming part of

Us

.

But Clarissa encountered a problem when she tried to Infect her masseur. When she started to rub Bruno's hand he looked down at it, and then at her, and he smiled as he said, "You're a few days too late, Mrs. Pepperson."

Bruno had already been Infected. People who touched others for a living, like masseuses, nurses, and doctors, were among the first to be taken.

Clarissa started to panic. It was three o'clock and she still needed one more person to Infect before dinner. She started walking in a shopping center randomly, wondering who she might be able to Infect, and how.

And then she saw some marvelous shoes on display in a store window and she got an idea.

Five minutes later, she was in the back room of the shoe store with a thin teenage boy barely out of high school, rubbing his scarecrow arms and body. He was so thin that she felt his ribs. Only a day before Clarissa could never have dreamed of having sex with an 18 year old boy. But today she was desperate.

Clarissa returned home triumphantly. She had met her quota.

Very good

, said the Voice.

But you must do this every day.

Every day! For how long?

Until all are Infected.

Clarissa's heart sank.

That evening, Paul started to caress her arms after dinner. She knew what that meant. But she couldn't have sex with him. That would Infect him.

He started kissing her, and it was wonderful. But she knew that the next step after kissing came fondling and after fondling came....

Clarissa broke away. "I can't," she said.

"You can't?" said Paul, looking hurt.

"I have a headache," said Clarissa.

"Have you taken some aspirin?"

"Yes. It hasn't kicked in yet," said Clarissa.

"I'm so sorry dear," said Paul, giving her a hug. "I hope you feel better soon." He let her go, and stopped trying to arouse her. He was that kind of husband, and Clarissa loved him passionately for it.

The next day, Clarissa was on the phone calling contractors. All kinds of contractors. Plumbing, roofing, electrical, whatever she could think of. She said she wanted estimates for repairs.

Over the next few days contractors started dribbling in. This was much easier than seeking out victims outside her home; here they were coming to her, like lambs to the slaughter. Seducing them with the pheromone proved childishly easy. In fact, on the third day, she was even able to Infect four contractors.

"That's four!" Clarissa announced triumphantly, after Number Four had raised his trousers, thanked her, and left. "That means one less tomorrow."

No.

"What?"

Our agreement was three every day.

"So I just slept with that smelly, sweaty plumber with the black, unwashed penis for nothing?"

Not at all. You helped spread the Infection. Congratulations.

So Clarissa learned another rule of the game. More than three a day didn't help.

But after a week of contractors streaming in to give estimates, their numbers started to decline. A few who came over were Infected themselves, giving Clarissa the idea that other housewives who were Infected had had similar ideas. Clarissa would need a new source of victims if she was to meet her quota.

But where could she find them? Clarissa tried going to bars during the day, but they were mostly empty. She picked up a few men in the evenings, but couldn't go out in the evenings too often, because her absence would make Paul suspicious. There was only so many evenings that Clarissa could tell Paul that she was going out to the movies with Natalie. (Natalie, of course, who had recommended Clarissa get vaccinated, had been Infected even before Clarissa.)

The chrono was her enemy. Each day it inexorably crept forward to six o'clock, when Paul came home. And if she hadn't Infected three people by then, the deal would be off.

Clarissa started going to stores, any kind of stores, and asking where the restroom was, and then going back and telling the sales clerk that there was some kind of problem with the toilet. That netted her some more Infections, although she found it challenging riding a man's organ while he was sitting on a narrow toilet.

But one day, despite her best efforts she only got two people Infected, and it was almost six o'clock. Her time had run out.

"Please!" said Clarissa. "Give me another chance!"

We made a deal.

"I have delivered on this deal for the past two weeks," said Clarissa desperately. "I have worked my vagina off Infecting more than 30 people. That has to count for

something

. Please give me another chance!"

The Voice was silent.

"Four," Clarissa said desperately. "Give me another day, and I will get you four tomorrow, instead of three."

All right. You will have one chance to make up for this.

"Thank you," said Clarissa. "Thank you so much."

Meanwhile her situation with Paul was deteriorating. It had been two weeks since she had sex with Paul, and she was running out of excuses. First she had a headache. Then she told him she had her period. Then she told him she had a headache again. And then tonight, after feeling super stressed from her near default on her deal with the Voice, Paul came onto her again when she definitely was not in the mood.

After dinner Paul wrapped his around Clarissa and started tickling her. She knew what that meant. She laughed as he tickled her, but then she said "No", and tried to pull away.

"No?" said Paul. He was a gentle man, but even he had his limits. "Why not? Lately, it's always been no."

She saw the hurt in his eyes.

"Have I done something to displease you?" Paul said.

"No, my dear," Clarissa said, his words tearing into her heart. She saw the pain and confusion in his eyes. She he sat down next to him, pressing her thigh against his. She grabbed his hands, careful not to release the pheromone. "You've been fine."

"Then... what is it?" said Paul.

"I'm just feeling... out of sorts lately," said Clarissa.

"Maybe I can make you feel better," said Paul. He turned her head, and stole a kiss.

It felt so soft and wonderful to Clarissa. She wanted it to continue forever. When he pulled back, he said, "There, did that help?"

Clarissa nodded.

After that, she couldn't resist him. It was as if he used the pheromone on her.

She willingly followed him up to the bedroom. But she was still in a panic. She knew she couldn't let things go through to conclusion.

"Dear, do you have any wrappers?" she asked, even as he pulled her blouse off, and started to undo her bra. At the speed Paul was going, he'd have her flat on her back and her legs spread within a minute or two. There wasn't much time left.

"Wrappers?" Paul got an odd expression on his face. "Why would I need a wrapper? You're still using Protection, aren't you?"

Clarissa would have had no reason to go off of it. "Yes."

"Then why would you want me to wear a wrapper?"

To protect you from the virus.

Paul started to kiss and knead her breasts, and it was all terribly, terribly, wonderful, but Clarissa still felt like she was on a collision path in a dark tunnel with an air train heading straight for her. When they were both naked, he moved down, to work lovingly between her legs, as he often did, but Clarissa gently but insistently pushed his head away. Instead, she went between his legs, and started pleasuring him with her mouth.

The elements of a plan formed in that moment.

Normally, Clarissa would get Paul excited to a certain point, until he reached a certain hardness, a certain level of arousal, and then she would stop, pulling her mouth out and obediently lying back and spreading her legs, allowing him to pleasure her with traditional intercourse. But this time, there would be a change of plans. She worked her lips hard over his shaft, and used her tongue repeatedly in a swirling pattern to get him as hard as she could as fast as she could, without any regard to how fast he was building up.

"Clary, wait... wait... WAIT!" Paul started to say, his tone growing more alarmed by the moment. But it was too late. He exploded in her mouth. Clarissa swallowed it all, feeling glorious. She had saved her husband from Infection.

Afterwards, he said, "That was nice, but a bit too quick. You usually stop before I finish."

"Sorry, I got too excited," said Clarissa sweetly.

Paul looked at her body. "Do you want me to finish you off down there?"

"Could you?" Clarissa asked sweetly.

Paul started to move lower, but Clarissa stopped him. "With your hand, dear. "

"My hand?"

"I'm in the mood for something different."

Paul, looking at her warily, agreed, and in moments Clarissa was moaning and groaning under his touch, genuinely happy. She had climaxed without Infecting her husband.

But evasions like this couldn't work forever. That had been three nights ago. Last night Paul had tried to have intercourse again, and again she had sucked him off, and while he enjoyed it, she could tell he was getting suspicious. She couldn't keep evading the issue forever.

The other problem was that she was running out of people to Infect. She was so desperate that she tried offering high school seniors rides home from high school. She tried hanging out in gymnasiums and swimming pool locker rooms. She stood outside prisons and jails when she learned that prisoners were going to be released. She visited bedridden people in hospitals who were still functional in the only way that mattered to her, to

Us

.

And then there was the day when, two people short of her quota, she went into a homeless shelter. That was one experience she never wanted to forget.

But finally the day came when once again she could not meet her quota. Six o'clock was rolling around again and she had only Infected one person, a man with two broken legs in the hospital.

No, please no.

You must Infect.

I have Infected more than a hundred people in the past month. That must count for

something

.

That is good. But you must Infect more.

Please, please give me one more chance. I'll do better tomorrow, I know I will.

The Voice was silent, as if it were considering.

Please, just one more day.

All right. But if you fail, you must Infect your Mate.

"All right. I will, I promise. Thank you. Thank you."

Clarissa was a mess that night. She had absolutely no idea how she was going to Infect three people tomorrow, much less one. She had spread her legs for practically every person she could find. As more and more people were Infected, it was getting harder to find people who were Uninfected.

She started to cry as she prepared dinner. She knew what would happen. She would fail, and

We

would compel her to Infect Paul.

When Paul came home, she quickly tried to wipe away her tears, but her state of upset must have been obvious to him. He was, after all, her husband. Paul took one look and immediately took her in his arms. She started to cry uncontrollably.

"It's all right," said Paul. "Shhh, it's all right," he said. "Whatever it is, we'll get through it."

"No, we won't," Clarissa sobbed.

"Whatever it is, it can't be so bad, as long as we're together," said Paul, and her heart skipped a beat as she looked lovingly into his. She kissed him with a passion she didn't know she had in her, and he responded.

Then he took her up to the bedroom, despite her weak protests.

"No... no...," she muttered vaguely. But her arms were gripping him tightly and she wouldn't let go. Paul had to pry her loose in order to undress her, before getting out of his own clothes. She immediately saw that he was erect. There would be no avoiding it this time.

"I'm scared!" Clarissa cried, sobbing into his chest. It felt so good to hold him. She didn't want it to end.

"There, there," said Paul, rubbing her back. Then he turned her over, and without saying a word, slowly started to rub her entire body--her legs, her thighs, her vagina, her breasts, even her head. She watched him silently. Then he started to suckle on her breasts, ever so gently, at first, but soon with a passion that made her cry out, as he grabbed and squeezed and caressed her breasts from below. And then finally, when he thought he had installed some semblance of calmness in her, he climbed on top of her, spread her legs, and bent her knees.

"No," Clarissa said, "Please, Paul, please-"

Paul froze, his penis at the point of entry. "Do you want me to stop?"

Clarissa looked at him, tears welling in her eyes. He was so gentle, so kind, so good. She needed him so much. She needed to feel him inside her. She shook her head shamefully, and closed her eyes.

Paul entered her, and she knew it was all over. She resolved to enjoy the next thirty minutes like it was a lifetime. She spurred him on, pushing him to go harder, kissing and biting his lips, touching him all over.

And when the pain started, first in his groin, and then rising up into his body, she tried her best to distract him from it, fiercely making love to him again, flipping him over and mounting him, rubbing her breasts against his chest as she furiously pounded against him, racing the sunset of their marital existence, while she held his hand tightly and stared into his eyes.

And then, when more than twenty minutes had passed, and they were resting together, Paul whispered, "That was incredible."

Clarissa smiled at him through sweaty hair covering her face.

"And the pain is gone," said Paul. "Oh wait... oh! Oh! Oh!" He grabbed his head and moaned.

Clarissa hugged him tightly and cried as well.

Then Paul stiffened and looked blankly at her. "Contact has been made."

You have done well.

Clarissa nodded, her eyes red.

"The Voice is telling me things," said Paul. "The Voice says you have infected many people, and done much good work."

Clarissa just gave a weak smile.

"The Voice said you did these things to protect me," said Paul. And then he looked at her directly, and she knew that part of him was still there. "Although we both serve the Voice now, you should know my love for you will never be stronger."