Sara

On your way to the city center, you send Dave a short text that you are having drinks with your office. You did have an agreement these years that none of you does these things on short notice, but you hope that he will understand. This is, after all, important. You can feel it.

The woman who called herself "Sara" turns out to be a small but well rounded Blonde with curly hair. You meet in a bustling bar downtown, on a table that is both in the middle of the room but still offers some privacy to talk about delicate matters. After the two of you have exchanged insignificant smalltalk for a while, you start to relax. This person, you think, seems genuine. And there certainly is no risk that she would abduct you or **** you here, in the middle of the room. You still decide to keep a close eye on your drink, though. Better not take the risk to get anything mixed into it.

Paranoia..., you think and sigh.

"I have stopped eating food at home", Sara says suddenly. "Or to be more precise: I pretend. I really play a show, as if I am eating, but I am not. I am pretty sure that our food is **** by the maid. And I still can't shake off those dreams, those fantasies... there's something more, as well. I don't know. Maybe it's even in the air."

Her fingers are tapping nervously on the table. You take a deep breath.

"I have fantasies as well", you admit. "Stuff I never thought of before. And yet, suddenly, when I am in the middle of these daydreams, I enjoy it. As if it really is me. Is it? I really wonder sometimes."

"Maybe it is, but not in this scope", Sara replies. "Maybe they are tapping on some very well hidden fantasies of us, but there is a huge difference between 'curious' and actually being on the verge of doing it. Gosh, the other day, I almost asked my co-workers if they wanted to start an orgy in the office! I honestly almost asked. I was surfing porn, watching group sex the whole morning."

A shiver runs down your spine. This feels oddly familiar. Not the part about asking your co-workers of course. But how far are you away from that?

"I think I read somewhere that the type of maid somehow plays a role in what fantasies we are having", you say. "We are digging our own graves by deciding on which person we let into our houses. So maybe, it has nothing to do with our own sexual thoughts at all. Maybe it's really all **** on us."

"In the end, it doesn't really matter, does it?", Sara says. "Where it comes from and why. The important thing is: The maids are responsible for it. Somebody is turning the whole society into sex crazed zombies, only looking for the next hot fuck. Slowly, but inevitable."

Sara looks around as if she wants to reassure herself that the people in this bar all behave normal and nobody is about to start any unexpected sex act.

You tap your finger against your lips. "What should we do?", you ask. Sara turns her attention back to you. "I don't really know", she says, shaking her head. "Flee? How long can we stay in our houses and resist? My husband is already completely mind controlled. He invites acquaintances and strangers to big sex parties. The maid is always in the middle of it. He mostly fucks her, but other women as well. And he has lost all interest in me. I don't know if it would be different, if I... would just give in."

For a moment, Sara looks sad. As if she really contemplates submitting to the big scheme, if that's what it takes to get her husband back at her side.

"No! No!", you say. "What would be the point? You would not be you anymore!"

"And who am I?", asks Sara.

"You... you are the one person at the moment who helps me to stay sane, Sara!", you say. "Without you, I wold feel completely lost, and I probably would give in as well pretty quickly. You are the one who gives me hope! Who has proven to me that I am not alone, and that these fantasies are NOT who I am. And certainly not who I want to become. If we want to get our husbands back, like really back, how they were, we can only achieve it by staying out of this, and maybe expose this big conspiracy."

For a brief moment you wonder if Dave is also already fucking the maid. There's a lump of ice in your stomach, thinking of it.

Sara nods, slowly. "Alright", she says. "Let's flee together. Let's go off the radar and let's see what happens. There must be others like us."

You wonder what the best course of action might be: You could run off immediatly, but you are of course not prepared at all. You have no equipment, no idea, not even a set of spare clothes. Of course, most of that can be bought, but maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to think this through and prepare first. On the other hand, there is, needless to say, a risk in going back home. What if those maids have other ways of bewitching you besides food and drink?