Corporate Takeover: The Tradwife Trap Pt. 2

Now a soft smile turned up the corners of her lips. “I am going to give you a new life, Mr. Elliot. And make you better. One moment.”

She disappeared. He could not make out the perimeter of the room. It was dark, and all he knew for certain was that the ceiling in this room was very high, and the area quite parge. He felt like he was swimming in an inky pool.

When Benson returned, there was the cool whisper of alcohol rubbed against his skin and then a prick as a needle was inserted into his arm.

He winced and gritted his teeth, though the pain was not so great. It was an expression of his frustration and fear, and he had no idea how he could escape from this moment other than that to let his mind shut down and retreat within himself. His arm tingled where benson injected him, and a floating sensations tole over his body. He found himself smiling as that tingling spread to every nerve.

“Was that a drug?” he asked. “I mean, like recreational?” He almost laughed again. He felt suddenly very good. Happy. His eyes fluttered and the dark room felt even bigger than it had before, like he was floating in space.

“Yes. This will help you accept all that we need to change about you. And I think you’ll find the process an be very pleasant if you allow it. This is all for your benefit, Mr. Rogers, and I assure you that you will feel even better very soon. Now relax for me.”

She stroked his hair back from his forehead. Her fingernails felt incredible when they combed over his scalp. He could lie here and focus on only that all day. He knew distantly that this was the result of some drug, but that hardly mattered when such peace washed over him.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Rogers?”

Benson leaned over him, only now there were nore of her. He’d never done acid in college, no mushrooms or anything like that. He heard people talk about trails, and now he understood. Every motion Benson made was followed by afterimages of her, as if he were seeing the recent past and the present all at once, the world superimposed upon itself. Benson was beautiful looking over him, in a very aristocratic kind of way. He rlips were thin, her nose narrow, and her hair was done just so. He imagined that she didn’t own a single pair of flip-flops, and now he laughed out loud at the though of it.

“You seem quite relaxed.”

“Oh yeah,” he assured her,s till giggling. “I’m as snug as a bug in a rug.”

Benson’s thin lips curved again ino a humorless smile.

“Then let us begin.”

The dim light was gone and suddenly Elliot was engulfed in darkness. His heart hammered and fists clenched. This was too much. This nothing was not so empty. It was filled with danger, and he could not free himself to run from it.

“Let me bring you light, Elliot,” she said, and the room was lit.

Above him, spirals turned like kaleidoscope galaxies, leaving trails behind them. Some wove into another and became larger, some broke apart to make colorful eddies moving across the high ceiling. But it wasn’t like a ceiling at all. It was as if the sky itself turned with a hundred different colors, all of them pulling him upward, into the turning spirals.

“You feel the light drawing you closer, don’t you?”

“yes,” Elliot answered. His voice was distant and dreamy, his body a million miles away. For now, he was purely thought, his essence floating up into that colorful sky, spinning with the arms of the spirals.

“Good. And there is no danger in the spirals. You can go as deep as you like. And every time you find yourself deep inside, you discover you can go deeper still. All the way up and away untilyou are free to be you truests elf. There is no need to fear or worry. Only joy waits in the spirals.”

“Joy,” he repeated, eyes wide and staring, a pearl of saliva gathering at the corner of his mouth.

“That’s right, Elliot. All the joy in the world. All you’ve ever known and more. And I can bring you here anything you like. But first I want you to count with me. Count up from one to ten, just like you are flying up into the spirals.”

She counted with him, watching as his body grew slack and his breath was long and even. If his eyes weren’t open, it would be easy to mistake that he was sleeping. When they reached ten, she waited for him to stir, but Elliot was lost in the spiral. It was as if the top of his head opened up and all his brains spilled out and sucked up into the air above him. He was deeply entranced now. The drugs not only enhanced the experience, they fired him into this mindless oblivion like a rocket.

Benson checked the monitors for any signs of physical issue. His heart beat regularly, his breath came steadily. Only his EEG showed little activity. That was good. His mind was a still pond, awaiting her to toss her pebbles of instruction to stir it.

“Elliot, I want you to know that you can trust me. I can make you this happy anytime you like, and all I ask in return is that you allow me to do so. I want you to be happy. I want you to feel good. And someone who only wants you to feel good can be trusted, can’t they?”

“Yes,” he said. Though he was only inches away, the sound of his voice came from light years away, another galaxy where his mind drifted free and easy.

“And being this happy means you need to stay with me for a while. You’ll find that you feel very happy to be here with me at the Janus Institute. In fact, the ide that you might want to leave might make you nauseous. If you or anyone here tries to take you away from here, you will become very sick at the thought of that. And you don’t want to be sick. You want to be happy here with me at the Institute, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I know you do. You are so good. And that makes me want to help you feel even better.”

She checked her watch. The peak of the drug-induced elation wouldn’t hit for another fifteen minutes. She spent the next ten repeating the same words again and again, instructing Elliot to feel very good remaining here with Benson, and how bad it would feel if he tried to leave. She found that a little docility was good as an early induction. It made the rest of the training so much easier.

With the peak coming very soon, Benson shifted instruction. The images above were still turning, but now there were images at the cenetrs of the spirals. Women in dresses with long skirts. Women in stockings and low heels, some in lingerie. They wore pearls and wide smiles. They were pictures of happiness. And more, they were icons of domesticity. Ine ach image, the owman did dishes, or pushed a broom or mop. They held feather dusters and displayed trays of cookies fresh from the oven. Sexy women at peak housewife status. When they began to appear within the spirals, Elliot’s expression fo wonder changed, too. It was something like awe.

“You will find,” Benson began, “that if you look closely at the spirals, you will see something very special. Youw ill find pictures of women, the kind of women you admire so much. They are beautiful and sexy. They keep a perfect home and they love their spouse with all their heart. A oman like that looks good and works to keep her spouse appy and aroused. A woman like that keeps a good home for their spouse. They are pillars of their community. They are excellent cooks. They raise good children. They please their spouse and think of their spouse’s needs above all else. They are obedient and happy.”

Benson repeated this with minor variation for the following fifteen minutes. In that time, she watched Elliot practically climax as the drugs in his system hit his brain with full force and then slowly subside. Only when his eyes started to close entirely did benson cease her whispering instruction and turn the spirals off, bathing the room in darkness once more.

The training sessions were exhausting. Benson leaned back at her desk and brushed her hair with her fingers, eyes closed as she consciously shook off the worries and concerns of the day. All the men received their first hypnotic sessions. She would see how the seed of those efforts blossomed in the coming days. Farrell, as expected, was already showing sign sof the hormones’ efficacy. He would be quite lovely when theyw ere done with him, Benson decided. It was nice when little surgery was needed. Ted would require some work. He was so damned square-jawed, and even showed some resistance to the first training. That was easily remedied with a  higher dose of her special narcotic, but it meant a longer road for him to become his new self. The others were following the schedule she expected.

Four at the same time were a challenge, but she could do it. Now that the obedience session was done, they would be less trouble for the staff. Now Benson could turn her attention to something that might amuse her, and she considered calling Julie in for some fun. While it was perhaps unethical to fool around with the woman one helped create, it made Julie no les stempting as a lover. She was not only pretty, she was eager to please Benson, just as she had been taught to do from her earliest stages of the process. It was hard to determine if Julie pleased benson because she was programmed to, or if it was due to genuine enjoyment. She decided it didn’t matter.

Instead of carnal pleasures, Benson resumed her search for the identity of her benefactor. The last email from the stranger funding the Janus Institute suggested a visit. Assuming this wealthy benefactor did not intend to drive, that meant a plane. And the nearby airfield, only a small one, would be the likeliest place for landing. And such travel was a matter of public record by the FAA. So, Benson presumed, she might divine the identity of the benefactor before he or she arrived. That would resolve itself if the individual were to visit, but knowing was better than not knowing in Benson’s experience. She liked to be prepared and have all relevant information at her disposal. And so her search continued until it was very late with nothing concrete to show for it. Not yet.

It had been days since the treatment started. Elliot wasn’t sure how many. He slept so much lately, itw as difficult to tell day from night, much less how many of those cycles passed. When a pair of the female attendants appeared in his door, he expecte dtheyw ere there to drug him again and take him to the dark room, the one he remembered in pieces. Instead, they stood in the doorway with their sunny smiles plastered on.

“It’s time for lunch. Would you come with us, please?”

“Out there?” he asked, nodding to the hallway past them.

“Yes, sir,” said the other smiling woman. The two wore the uniform of the Institute – sensible tops, skirts to the knees, a taser on their hips – and Elliot hated himself for admiring their legs and especially their heels. It wasn’t quite sexual attraction he felt, but pursuing the workings of his brain at present was a task he was not up for. Instead, he rose and shuffled toward them, anticipating some shock from one of their tasers or another cloth dipped in a drug to send him to the floor. Instead, they stood aside and allowed him to exit the white cell.