General Disclaimers: While it features no ‘on-screen’ sexual activity or explicit adult situations, this hypnofetish story does contain examples of adult fictional characters doing illegal, immoral and/or impossible things to other adult fictional characters. If you are under the age of consent in your community, are disturbed by such concepts, or want hot wet thrusting sex in your free on-line pornography, then for goshsakes stop reading now! Permission granted is to re-post to any electronic medium, as long as 1) No one's being charged to view it in any way, shape or form and 2) This disclaimer and e-mail address ( are not removed. It would also be nice if you told me you were posting it.

Copyright Lord Ed (and Voyer) 2003.

Specific Disclaimers: The bulk of this story was written by "Lord Ed", while I did some editing and proofreading. If you enjoy it, Ed deserves the credit; be sure and let him know.

Lieutenant Lauren Asherson looked around. The planet on which she had crashed was a barren wasteland, stretching for as far as the eye could see under a pale white sun. She looked back at her ship. It used to be a small one-man craft that could serve as either a patrol craft or if need be, a light fighter. Now it was a mess of twisted metal smoldering at the bottom of an impact crater.

She started out away from the ship. She took with her a backpack that contained, among other things, a radio. It was her hope that she could find a mountain or a very tall hill and from there broadcast an SOS that would hopefully be picked up by the Patrol sensor network. In the mind of a lesser person this would have been the time when the panic started to set in. But Lauren had her training. She kept her eyes forward and marched. “Remember your training,” she repeated to herself as she thumped her boots against the gray dirt. “Remember your training.”

The circumstances that brought her to this place stood sharp and fresh in her mind. She had been assigned to Jump out to this remote Sector on a routine patrol for enemy forces. She had passed her ship close to this planet to scan it and see if any hostiles had established a foothold on it. During the sweep, without warning, her ship had been blasted by some unknown force. Try as she might, she couldn’t keep it from losing control, tumbling down into the atmosphere and crashing. Only a miracle (along with some fancy flying) had kept her from dying. Now she just had to survive long enough for help to arrive...

A noise, and her hyper-conditioned fingers snapped futilely for the blaster that would have been strapped to her hip if the weapon had come through the crash in one piece. The sound had been made by some sort of wildlife; she spun and saw the source, a huge creature crawling up out of a ditch and lumbering towards her. It was massive multi-legged beast that brought to mind some sort of dragon from a child’s holobook. She couldn’t see any eyes, but there was definitely a mouth, and the thing was clearly homing in on her. Fleeing was the only option left to her, and she ran as fast as her legs could carry her. She had always been a smart and resourceful woman, but strength and speed were not among her best traits; she had won her place in the Patrol through grit and plodding determination.

The beast was nipping at her heels. For all its bulk, it could move.

She summoned up her strength and tried to run faster. It gave her a small boost but not enough to prevent the thing from soon closing the gap again. She felt a cramp threatening to rip down her side as she strained to keep ahead.

She approached a hill and her body started to give way. Her legs felt heavy as lead and her breath rattled in the planet’s thin dry atmosphere. “Got to keep going.” she recited to herself. “Can’t stop. No one is going to help you. You have no weapons. You have to keep running until you find shelter from this behemoth.” But her body wouldn’t listen. She collapsed and waited for the creature to come and eat her or rip her apart, or simply trample her into the dust.

And then, a miracle. From behind the hill came shooting up a high-arcing projectile that slammed down hard on the creature, stunning it. The beast howled as it staggered. Lauren was filled with new energy and she regained her feet, ran to the crest of the hill. She looked over and saw that the hill was larger than it first appeared; beneath her feet plunged a steep slope that led to a small barren valley. In the center of the valley was a fortress, a human fortress, sticking out of the rock like a enormous clot of fungus, black and bristling. A large plasma cannon mounted on one of the higher turrets was pointing upwards and in her general direction. A tell-tale wisp of purplish smoke slowly uncoiling from its tip gave it away as the source of her deliverance.

Again, a noise. She looked back. The dragon-thing had shaken off the effects of the attack and was back on its feet again, angrier than ever. Lauren surfed down the slope in a long spray of gravel and sprinted as fast as she could go towards the fort. Again clamping down on the pain, she crossed the flat surrounding plain and reached the large metal door just as the creature hit the bottom of the slope in the midst of the avalanche it had started. Shaking off the chunks of rock, it charged at her, roaring furiously. Suddenly, above her a barrage of smaller guns from the fort opened up, bombarding the thing with blasts. The creature howled again and tried to resume its charge, but this second barrage proved too much, and the creature again collapsed on the ground, this time in an impressive spray of various bodily fluids. It gave off one last enraged shriek as it expired and the silence that followed was deafening.

Lauren breathed a sigh of relief. She then felt the large metal door opening, and she moved back and prepared to thank her saviors. Two men came stumping out, and as from a very great distance she felt the expression on her face change from gratitude to horror. They were clad in the jet-black suits of the Dark Army, and they smiled as they saw their guest.

“Well, look at what we have here..” said the taller of the two, a blonde with a narrow weasel-face.

“Looks to me like a scout in the space marines has come visiting.” said the shorter man, a particularly weather-beaten individual with an old Confederation prison brand glowing fitfully on one cheek.

“She looks exhausted.” said the first man.

“I’m sure the captain would want us to give her a hand.” said the brand-wearer. “After all, it’s only good manners to help someone w-”

His attempted witticism and his smile cut off simultaneously as Lauren’s boot slammed into his middle, doubling him over. She was already spinning towards the other one, but it was too late; she was facing the muzzle of a blaster, and there was an all-encompassing flash of light.

Lauren was almost aware of the ground hitting her face.

Sensation returned to Lauren Asherson, and she ran inventory. She was sitting up. She was in a chair. She could feel that she wearing only her standard issue combat pants, her tank top, and her boots. She felt straps on her hands and her legs, across her waist. This last fact fully snapped her back into the waking world. She cracked her eyes open and she confirmed everything that she had first felt. She then looked around the room. It was bare save for the large chair in which she sat, plus a control panel looming a few short feet away. She was facing a large wall-mounted mirror made of some shimmering substance, and she looked at herself for a moment. Nothing there had changed. Tall, well-proportioned. A close-cut crop of blonde hair. The only sound was the subliminal hum of the air conditioning.

Until there were voices outside the room’s tall metal door. She was vaguely surprised that it wasn’t sound-proof.

The door whispered open and two men stepped in. One was tall and imposing, and was wearing the same jet black uniform as the two at the gate, with the addition of a red cape and sash that signified he was the commander of this fortress. The other man, older and rather frail-looking, wore a black uniform as well. His unique sartorial feature was the well-worn white lab coat that dangled open from his scrawny shoulders.

“Ah good, you’re finally awake.” said the captain. “Now we can begin.” His voice matched his appearance.

“Who are you? Where am I? Begin what?” Lauren demanded. (‘Demanded’ was perhaps an overstatement, her voice being as weak as it was, but the sentiment was there.)

“My. Aren’t we the feisty, questioning one,” replied the captain. “You are the one who is supposed to be answering questions. But, in the interest of fairness, I’ll answer yours first. I am Captain Gradion. This” A small wave that managed somehow to be all-encompassing, “is the recruitment center we have named Fortress Indocturn. We saw your ship passing by and we thought we would extend you an invitation. My compliments on your piloting skills, by the way. Most impressive. But now my companion, Doctor Septium, will explain the procedure you are about to undergo.”

The doctor shuffled behind the control panel and scooped up a collection of wires. He then proceeded towards Lauren’s seat.

“Fortress Indocturn is a training facility for the Dark Army’s new recruits,” he began to explain. Lauren’s skin crawled; his tone was that of a lecturer discussing obscure 22nd century Centauri poets. “Most of those who make their way here want to join the Army, but there are those that need... convincing.”

At that he extracted one wire from the clump. Lauren could now see it was attached to an large circular electrode. The electrode was placed over her heart, and it neatly sealed itself in place. Another was placed on the other side of her chest. Two more were placed over her palms.

“So, what you are saying is that this place doubles as a brainwashing facility.” Somehow she kept her voice calm.

The Doctor blinked. Even though she had already talked, it was as if he was mildly surprised she was capable of speech.

“‘Brainwashing’ is such an imprecise and misused term. I prefer to describe it as causing a minor adjustment in one’s attitudes.”

He went back to the control panel and produced a helmet, a metal thing larded with layers of biocircuitry modules and more trailing wires. He placed it on Lauren’s head. She tried to fight, swinging her head around and even snapping at him with her teeth if any piece of him got in range, but the Doctor was finally able to secure it. He fussily checked to make sure each of the wires on the helmet was properly attached and then went back to the control panel. Captain Gradion had watched this procedure in silence, but now spoke again.

“Before we begin your introduction into our ranks, you must pay an entrance fee. Since we know you have no money, a simple divulging of information will be enough.”

“I’m not telling you squat.” she said. The strap on her right wrist was a little loose. If she could work free..

Captain Gradion didn’t answer, but silently raised his hand and motioned with a gloved finger. The doctor jabbed at something, and the control panel came to life. The mirror on the wall began to shimmer and swirl. The helmet hummed to life around Lauren’s skull, and immediately she felt a sense of lightheadedness ooze down into her mind. Her chin dropped. Thoughts of the home base back in Sector 42, her friends and fellow soldiers, her superior officers, her ship, and many more danced in front of her in her mind. She tried to push them away, but...

She raised her head and saw that an array of monitors had lit up next to the control panel. The images in her mind now played out on the monitors, flat and pixelated and washed of color. She growled in protest.

“Very nice.” said Captain Gradion. “I believe that will be an acceptable payment. You may now begin the.. minor adjustment, Doctor.”

The doctor manipulated more controls. The helmet’s humming changed into a slow steady pulsing. The electrodes suddenly felt nice and warm, like a collection of gentle massages spreading out through her body and deliciously linking up with one another.

She was floating.

Her inner vision turned from the Space Marines to the Dark Army. A thought came out of the warmness, and whispered that the Dark Army wasn’t so bad. The Dark Army was good. She should join them in their mission to spread over the galaxy and put a final end the Confederation’s obvious weakness and bickering...

“NO!” she moaned. “I won’t join you. You are the enemy.”

She tried to squirm out of her chair but the straps were too tight and her body too tired. Or was it that her body had already given itself over? Whatever the case, she hadn’t the energy. The pulsing grew and the pleasant sensation grew. It was becoming too much to resist.

“I am Lauren Asherson. I am a lieutenant in the Space Marines. Serial number HY432-491” she said to herself. “I am Lauren Asherson. I am a lieutenant in the Space Marines. Serial number HY432-491..”

Over and over again she repeated the phrase. Over and over again she tried to use this phrase to push the other thoughts is her head. Over and over again she found it harder and harder to do.

“I am Lauren Asherson. I am. I am. I am. I, I, I, I, I........................”

The last of her resistance crumbled. Her head slumped over and she gave it out a low moan. She lost herself totally in the hum, the pulse, and the floating warmth. It took her over and the thoughts, her thoughts, just spoke over and over again of the joy she would feel as a member of the Dark Army.

Captain Gradion stalked into the room, his cape swirling around him. Lauren was standing up now, dressed in a black uniform. Her eyes were blank. Her stance was stiff. She looked like a statue. Two electrodes went from her forehead to a small remote in the doctor’s hand. He stroked the controls with his long fingers, and her eyes twitched as he did. The doctor turned to his superior.

“I’m just finishing putting in the final touches, Captain.” he said. A final tap of a finger, and the electrodes powered down, popping themselves free from her forehead. They slithered themselves back into the remote.

Gradion smiled and inspected his new toy, stalking around her so as to inspect her from all angles. He suspected he was going to be very happy with his new recruit.

“Whom do serve, my dear?” he asked her.

Expression came into her eyes. It was cold and hard, and she spoke with the voice of burning fanaticism.

“I serve the Dark Army. Death to the Confederation. Death to the Space Marines!”

Gradion’s smile widened. The Doctor had done his job very well indeed.

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