General Disclaimers: While it features no ‘on-screen’ sexual activity or explicit adult situations, this hypnofetish story does contain examples of fictional characters doing illegal, immoral and/or impossible things to other fictional characters. If you are under the age of consent in your community, are disturbed by such concepts, or want graphic sex in your online pornography, then for goshsakes stop reading now!

Permission is granted to re-post for free to any electronic medium, as long as no fee whatsoever is charged to view it, and this disclaimer and e-mail address ( are not removed. It would also be nice if you told me you were posting it.

Copyright Voyer, 2002 and 2014.

Specific Disclaimers: A repost/slight reworking of a short scene from several years back.

Dedicated to David Xanatos.

Ashe came up off of the last of the wide carpeted steps, idly sliding his fingers off the last curve of the polished wooden slickness of the hand-railing as he did so.

The hallway stretched on from here into tasteful gloom, but to either side there were two additional choices.

Two doors set into the silk-papered walls, framed with exotic black wood, as carefully polished as the railings.

Red or Blue.

But it wasn’t really a choice for him. He was getting on in years, and even when he had been a younger man, he had prefered more quiet and contemplative pursuits. (Which of course was a major part of the reason that he was still around to get on...) Nevertheless, he glanced at the Red door. As was every door within the thick stone walls of the Club, it was throughly soundproofed. But as always, Ashe found himself imagining that this particular portal was nevertheless vibrating a little from everything that was (presumably) happening behind it. He turned away with a small frown, and pressed his hand against the square metal plate that was discreetly nestled beside the Blue door. The sensors there flitted approvingly across his fingerprints and the door whispered itself open, drawing him into...

The Blue Room. There was the usual wave of extra oxygen and scent from all the flourishing plants and flowers, and he took a deep appreciative breath. The circular room was even quieter than usual at the moment. Underneath the sloping skylights that let in just the right amount of sunlight, the elaborate stone fountain trickled and splashed among the leaves, but no one was currently playing the gleaming black piano which dominated the eastern side of the room. He paused just inside the doorway and scanned the various tables and alcoves, on the off chance that Dubov was there; Ashe thought they might finish their little discussion from earlier...

But no. Beatty and Yakamura were occupying their usual places, playing another round of their endless Game, or at least staring with carefully hooded eyes at the jumbled collection of gold and silver pieces positioned on the six sprawling tiers spread out between them. Hileman sat alone at another table. To one side of the bald and skeletal man lay the picked-over remanents of a small salad, as he scribbled on one or the other of the many sheets spread out before him. At a third, Parker was prodding the exposed interior of a some silvery device with what appeared to be a screwdriver. Many other tools were strewn about the bespectacled man, and multicolored wires tangled about him like a spiderweb. One or two of the more private alcoves had their curtains drawn, but there no one else of interest was in sight.

For a moment Ashe considered joining Parker; the young Engineer could be interesting company when and if his attention could be wrenched away from his precious gadgets for five minutes. Then the older man changed his mind, found the nearest empty alcove, seated himself. He carefully extracted his newspaper from under his arm and unfurled it. He methodically flipped through the pages until he found the article he had been working on during the ride to the Club. Something about an upswing of Activity in the greater Detroit area. He himself only dabbled nowadays, but he still made it a point to keep himself informed about what Parker’s generation was up to.

Then there was... not another smell exactly... but a discrete cool freshness in the air, and he looked up over the top of the paper. One of the Blue Room attendants had materialized and was standing next to the alcove. She appeared to be new, but at the same time, she seemed vaguely familiar, causing a slight crinkle to add itself to the collection already residing on his brow. She took the narrow-stemed glass of ice water off her tray and positioned it on the table in front of him, every gesture perfect and balanced. Then she spoke, still holding her tray up in the air, her hips shifted just so. Like all the Blue Room attendants, her voice was soft. Placid. Musical.

Ever-so-slightly mechanical.

“Good afternoon, my Lord. Welcome to the Blue Room. How may I please you?”

He smiled.

“Hello, my dear. Um... what are the specials today?”

“The special today is bouillabaisse, my Lord. The chef recommends it quite highly.”

“Um. Yes. All right. That will be fine. And I think a glass of the ‘57 Winyards.”

“Yes, my Lord.” She curtesied and turned to go, the folds of her long skirt swirling...

Then a belated connection was made, and he spoke again.

“Just a minute, my dear...”

She turned back, came to rest again, her skirt stopping motion a half-second after everything else.

“Yes, my Lord?”

He squinted at her, then blinked.

“Oh. Oh yes. It’s Miss Anderson, isn’t it? You’ve changed; I almost didn’t recognize you.”

For the very first time she blinked, once, a slow motion that almost seemed to be accompanied by a sort of clicking noise, like that of a camera shutter.

“Yes, my Lord Ashe.”

“The last time I saw you... when was it...”

“The last time we met was three weeks ago in your office on 42nd street, my Lord.”

“Ah, I remember. I also seem to recall that you were somewhat... um... upset about something. Do you recall what it was?”

“I recall quite clearly, my Lord. I had learned about the Club. I thought that it and its members were evil and that it and they should be destroyed by any means necessary.”

“Yes. Of course. And how do you feel about the matter now?”

“I was deeply unhappy and confused, my Lord.” Another blink. “But I am ever so much better now. The Club has cured me of my delusions, and now I understand its truth and its purity. I understand totally and for all eternity.”

“Good. Very good.” He glanced again in the direction of Beatty and Yakamura. Games... “Have you been Assigned for this evening, my dear?”

“I have not yet been Assigned, my Lord.”

He considered for another moment before going on.

“Do you know how to play chess?”

“Yes, my Lord.” Blink. There was perhaps just the tinest note of pride in her voice. “I was in the chess club in school, before the Club blessed me with my new role.”

“Really? Well, I see why they have you working here and not next door. Very well. You are Assigned to me tonight. Come to my quarters at...” He pulled his Schedule out of its interior pocket and consulted it. “Six P.M.”

It was possible that a very faint flush crept up into her cheeks.

She curtseyed again, the level of the tray remaining perfect.

“Yes, my Lord. Six P.M.”

“Until then. Carry on.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

She turned and ghosted away in the direction of the kitchen, her hips swaying.

Ashe put his schedule back and returned to his paper.

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