Succumbing to Menudia Ch. 01

I'm envisioning this as a long-ish type of series, sort of an experiment to see if I can juggle a larger cast of characters and mix in an array of intriguing subplots, etc. Starts out with a bit of a "zombie/body snatchers" flavor to it, but eventually morphs into more of an exploration of the four main protagonists' various fetishes and fantasies (which, by some improbable coincidence ... also happen to be shared by me!). Should be some nice, merry mind control mayhem when all is said and done.

The first chapter basically introduces the core group (AKA the "Lucky Thirteen"), so there's a good deal of little bios and backstories in it (if that's not your thing, I suppose you could skip this one, or come back to it later), with only initial glimpses of the looming external threat and libidinous intrigue to come. I'd say the shit won't really hit the fan until about ... Chapter 3 or so?

All the characters in Chapter 1, and in subsequent chapters, are at least 18 years of age or older.

*****

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? Hmmm ... this picturesque little village certainly looks ripe for the taking. I have a particularly good feeling about that group of picnickers on the meadow there. Sensing a plethora of sexual tension, repressed mutual attraction, a closeted lesbian or two, possibly even a trio of cute virgin boys? ... Ah, yes! They will all make the most splendid Menudians.

"But why rush things? Such a collection is like a basket of fresh fruit. I shall take my time, and savor each of them, one by one ..."

*****

Liza had definitely wandered too far from the rest of the group.

Which was so unlike her! The other girls, potentially, but Liza? The good-humored brunette was always so focused, so practical.

And it certainly hadn't been intentional. Only moments earlier, it seemed like she'd been gaily chatting along with Angela, merely stopping to admire a squirrel, and then suddenly ... uh-oh. Where had everyone gone?

On the other hand, it was the kind of lovely spring day that would have inspired composers of sonnets -- the meadow she'd accidentally found herself strolling through being exceedingly lush and bucolic -- and, well, perhaps she didn't mind being lost so much.

Funny how, a few minutes earlier, she'd felt so confident that she could have found her way back, but by now, some serious doubts were creeping in. She kept looking for signs along the route that she might have recognized from earlier on -- a park bench, a kiosk, a charcoal-covered stump? But ... diddley squat.

Perhaps the group would find her instead. That would be nice. Liza's outfit didn't make her particularly stand out much. She was wearing a snug black short-sleeve crew neck top, the bottom of which was tucked into some dark green denim shorts (the clean hems of which climbed fairly high up her thighs), along with a pair of plain white socks and Converse sneakers. Perfect for a day trip to the village, but hardly anything fancy.

Then, almost out of nowhere, a figure in the distance gradually caught her eye. One of her fellow students? Nah, didn't seem like it. At first she couldn't quite make out who it was, but after a minute or so, she could see that it was a young man, approximately Liza's age, slowly heading towards her, with a pace that was oddly unhurried and deliberate.

Something about him seemed "off," but, as he made his leisurely approach, she observed that he was ... well, pretty effin' cute! Short black hair, light brown skin, wearing a tight-fitting, plain green t-shirt along with some grey jeans ... screw it, might as well ask the guy for directions. But before she had a chance, she discovered that, apparently, he must have been even more lost than she was.

"Excuse me ... do you know which way ... Hickory Grove is?" His words came out in a slightly unusual, flat, hypnotic tone.

"Uh, actually, I'm a bit lost myself," she replied with a mixture of amusement, friendliness, and self-concern.

"Oh, I see. So you couldn't tell me ... how to find Hickory Grove?" Liza couldn't put her finger on it, but there was a subtle quality about his whole demeanor that made her vaguely uneasy, as if he wasn't actually interested in finding Hickory Grove at all.

"Well, I can give you my best guess, but ..."

The stranger's eyes abruptly turned a bright whitish-yellow.

Only a split second afterward, Liza's eyes glowed the same colored hue in return. She observed a thin, mysterious smile quickly dance across the boy's face, and just as quickly disappear. He began to hover at least a foot or two above the grass, and Liza pleasantly found herself following him into the air.

He spoke his next words in a markedly changed, heavily monotone, and surprisingly purposeful voice.

"You have succumbed ... to Menudia."

Liza's response came out of her throat sporting the same generally emotionless, obedient tone as his, although sprinkled with a tiny hint of excitement.

"It is a pleasure to serve Menudia."

"My name is Eduardo."

"My name is Liza."

Her chin-length brown hair fluttered against her cheeks. She fiddled with the metal fastener on the fly of her jean shorts, allowing it to gently pop loose -- or perhaps it had popped loose on its own?

She leaned back in the morning air, parallel to the verdant grass ... and waited.

*****

"You want some of my pretzels?"

"No thanks," Curt said.

Angela turned to Ellis. "How about you?"

"Sure, guess I could go for a few."

If they had personally requested weather for the picnic from Weather.com itself, the Outdoor Activities group couldn't have done any better -- clear blue sky (save for a smidgeon of puffy clouds), about 72 degrees Fahrenheit/22 degrees Celsius, only the mildest breeze.

The cuisine wasn't anything to write home about, but the thirteen students from Sacred Saints of the Cross college (a "Catholic" school in theory but a "privileged rich white kid's school" in practice) didn't particularly mind. After the picnic, the plan was to take a little hike along the stream, pick a few mushrooms, maybe check out some of the historical buildings in the village ... no one was too concerned about it.

But Haley, who was about two-thirds of the way through her sandwich, after taking a quick look around, apparently noticed what none of her other less perceptive students did.

"Has anyone ... seen Liza?"

"Liza?" Jen and Rachel shrugged.

"She probably just went for a quick walk or something," Vanessa guessed. "Or got accosted by some strange, handsome male."

"Vanessa, why does everything have to be about strange, handsome males with you?" Rachel asked.

"Why does everything have to be about your boyfriend?"

"Could we leave Kyle out of this, please?" Rachel then turned to Haley. "It's funny, I feel like Liza was just here."

"Hmm. I was gonna share one of my sandwiches with her. Oh well." Haley shrugged.

"Maybe that's what she was afraid of," Mason said.

"What the hell do you know about making sandwiches?" Emily barked in response to Mason's gratuitous wisecrack, before addressing the rest of her peers. "She probably just went to get some water or something."

"Or maybe you can give an extra sandwich to Rachel," Jen proposed.

Rachel recoiled at the mere suggestion. "Oh God! If I gained any more weight, Kyle would kill me."

"Jeesh, it's just a freaking tuna salad sandwich," Jen clarified. A moment of silence followed.

"Liza's a fully grown adult woman," Julie chimed in. "She's perfectly capable of taking care of herself."

"Admit it Julie, if you got lost, you'd probably be screwed," Mason pointed out.

"You'd be too busy posting tirades on social media to actually go look for food," Jen added, eliciting a chuckle from Mason behind her.

"So typical. Someone goes missing, and all you can do is tap into your pathetic little cultural resentments."

"Oh, don't be too hard on yourself, Julie," Jen said consolingly. "You'd probably survive longer than Emily would."

"Well, first of all, I would never be stupid enough to get lost in the woods in the first place," Emily replied huffily. "Anyone who strays that far from the group is asking for trouble."

"'Now no way can I stray; Save back to England, all the world's my way,'" Jen responded, via Shakespeare.

"Maybe she was eaten by wolves," Mason joked.

"Or maybe she just got fed up with your sass," Emily replied.

"Oh come on," he snapped back. "You're just jealous that you didn't get eaten by wolves first."

"Mason, please!," Danielle added with the quick glare of an authority figure, before turning to Haley. "Why don't you go see if she's in that little general store? Or just take a quick look around the village? Hopefully she's not too lost."

*****

Ah yes, it was quite the complex little group of twelve picnicking students, plus chaperone, enjoying their lunch on that suspiciously serene morning.

Did they have the slightest inkling of what was in store for them? Did they enjoy each other's company? Loathe each other's guts? Profess a complete indifference to each other?

What did they want out of life? Where did they come from? Single, or attached? Sexual novices, or pros?

That last question was certainly easy enough to answer for the five social butterflies huddled together on one blanket: Emily, Jen, Julie, Vanessa, and Rachel.

Emily

Though she would have vigorously denied it, Emily was the ultimate conformist: hyper-sensitive to how everyone else viewed her and yet so obviously keen to fit in that her efforts to conform ironically made her stand out even more.

She was the kind of girl who made sure to hit all the relationship and sexual "rites of passage," dating guys she didn't like very much just so no one would get on her case about being single, losing her virginity to a guy she didn't like very much just so no one would get on her case about being a virgin, etc.

One thought, and one thought alone, caused Emily to wake up at night in a cold sweat: the thought that everyone else in the school was getting more action than she was.

Those conformist instincts often led Emily to vocally criticize any boy she perceived as "weird," even though she secretly found the "weird" boys hot -- in other words, everyone knew that, whenever Emily started loudly complaining about a guy, it was a sure sign that she wanted to fuck him.

But with her short blonde hair, tiny blue eyes, thick, pouty lips, and flat nose, which gave her face an angelic, delicate aura slightly reminiscent of a young Reese Witherspoon (or Reece's daughter Ava Phillippe?), it wasn't much of a secret how hot the boys found her.

She certainly knew how to maximize her Czech and German heritage and 5'4" frame with a tasteful, preppie fashion sense and, naturally, every male in the school, "weird" or not, would have loved to have gotten into her pants -- there was something about those judgmental tendencies and that frequently harsh tongue that suggested she would have been a real firecracker in the sack. Mainly, her performative behavior was always so transparent that it served more as a source of amusement for the group than a source of annoyance.

On the fateful day of the picnic, Emily looked her usual alluring self, in a pink long-sleeve button-up dress shirt which dangled untucked over black denim jeans, along with black mid heeled loafers. While walking toward the meadow that morning, she'd unexpectedly picked a sunflower from a stalk and placed it in her golden hair next to her right ear, accentuating the gentle, adorable side of her personality.

Jen

Although the shortest of the bunch (at 5'1"), what Jen lacked in height, she sure made up for in Hellenic beauty, razor-sharp intellect, and inquisitive attitude.

Jen was literally and figurately a drama queen, spending almost all her time outside of class starring in the school's various theatrical productions, and had also found herself locked into one of those ultra-volatile relationships with her boyfriend, the kind where they would continuously fight, break up, and get back together again ad nauseum.

Although he clearly satisfied her need for drama, the other students seriously wondered if he satisfied her needs in the bedroom, because Jen was an incorrigible flirt and constantly seemed to have sex on the brain, frequently joking about penises, vaginas, and every body part in between (as well as having a habit of tossing out lines from revered playwrights at random).

Besides, with her straight, dark brown hair, slender nose, and spotlessly white teeth (which sported a slight overbite), she was, in her own way, arguably the prettiest girl in the college, her roots being mostly Irish, with a touch of French Canadian.

On the day of the picnic, she was sporting a tight white cotton long-sleeve crew neck top, a short plaid green, yellow, and white skirt over black leggings, and white Reeboks, with her ponytail playfully sticking out of the back of a baseball cap.

Julie

Although perhaps just as attractive as Emily and Jen were, Julie wasn't exactly the kind to define her life around her relations with men.

Indeed, being taller than Emily and Jen by a few inches, Julie was likewise never short of opinions on the state of male-female relations, often slipping into rants about "the patriarchy" and frequently acting offended and taking umbrage at perceived outrages. Jokes from her male classmates that wouldn't even merit a glance from the other girls always got a rise out of Julie.

Nevertheless, despite having a steady boyfriend (who supposedly respected her perennially outraged nature, or at least kept his objections to himself), she was quietly obsessed with dolling herself up nicely, and certainly enjoyed taking advantage of her long, light brown hair, blueish-green eyes framed by silver rectangular glasses, and a thin, well-proportioned physique. Heritage-wise, she was a little bit of everything (Scottish, Jewish, Spanish, Portuguese) but it was her gender, not her heritage, that always got her verbally fired up.

And coincidentally, the outfit she'd worn to the picnic was also "fire": light green floral-print mini cami dress with a plain white short-sleeve top underneath it, white socks, and some blue penny platform mary janes.

Vanessa

Her attendance simultaneously allowing the college to pat itself on the back for its admissions diversity without rocking the boat in any meaningful fashion, Vanessa was one of those girls who, while ethnically Mexican-American, was culturally as white as the freshly fallen snow, her accent giving off no hint of her bilingual capabilities.

About the same height as Emily, but with heavy black eyes, angular nose, and a capital pair of breasts for a girl her size, Vanessa was also the biggest risk-taker and most promiscuous of the group, being the first one in the room to try whatever mind-altering substance some sketchy bro at a party would present to her, and frequently enjoying one-night stands and spur-of-the-moment blowjobs.

The girl was also a terrific dancer, genuinely considering a potential career in that rather unpredictable field. On the day in question, the young Latina perv was dressed in a thin dark green sweater which contained horizontal yellow stripes across it, a short black mini button-through skirt, and brown knee-high leather boots, with her chin-length jet black hair partially held back by a green plastic clip.

Rachel

All the boys agreed that Rachel, the school's tennis star and, if not the prototypical "Jewish American Princess," certainly Jewish and certainly princess-level gorgeous, could rock the team's requisite uniforms of tight polo shirts and short tennis skirts like nobody's business, but she would make it quite clear, to anyone who'd listen, that she was "taken."

See, when she'd started dating Kyle in her freshman year, she told herself that he was "the one," and together they'd made plans to get married, buy a house, have kids -- the whole spotless suburban future.

But privately she was quite aware that, given her auburn hair, 1,000 watt smile, and perhaps the best figure out of all the girls in the college (which she was usually eager to show off), she could have had any boy she'd wanted with a snap of her fingers, and that every red-blooded male at the school fantasized about performing every possible sexual activity mentioned in the Kama Sutra with her while they jerked off at night.

But even though the idea of "playing the field" constantly gnawed at her, she had never mustered up the courage to try it. Given that she had numerous opportunities to cheat on him, Rachel invariably mentioned her boyfriend at every chance that presented itself and made an endless public show of confirming her devotion to him.

Nevertheless, true to form, on the day of the picnic she was wearing a blue short-sleeve button-up denim blouse that delivered a hint of cleavage (between which a Star of David necklace rested), and which she had teasingly tied up in a knot at the waist to show off her smooth abs, paired with matching skintight blue jeans and some white Adidas.

*****

"So how long are we gonna be out here anyway?" Rachel posed to no one in particular, before loudly adding, "I'm supposed to meet Kyle for dinner."

"Kyle, Kyle, Kyle, blah blah blah," Emily responded.

"Maybe you should have dinner by yourself every once in a while," Julie suggested. "Why do your evening meals have to revolve around your boyfriend? For instance, Derek and I only meet for dinner about twice a week. He respects my autonomy, as a modern boyfriend should, and I respect his, of course."

"Or maybe he just doesn't want to hear you lecture him more than twice a week," Jen said.

"At least we don't break up more than twice a week," Julie snapped back.

"Girls, please!" Danielle pleaded. "Can we just enjoy the picnic?"

"Maybe I could meet Kyle for dinner instead," Vanessa said to Rachel. "I mean, I don't know about anyone else, but I'd do him."

"Vanessa!" Julie gasped. "Who asked you?"

"And I could have dinner with your boyfriend on the nights when you're not. I'd do him too."

"Vanessa, seriously!" Danielle exclaimed. "Could you keep those sorts of comments to yourself?" Just then, the group noticed Haley sprinting across the meadow. "Haley's coming back, but ... I don't see Liza?"

By the time Haley made her way to the pair of blankets, the others grew slightly concerned at the sight of her alarmingly pale face.

"Well?" Julie asked.

"You find Liza?" Angela added.

She uttered only one word, but one word was all she needed to utter:

"Menudia."

In the blink of an eye, a palpable chill descended over the entire group. That word could only mean one thing. And what it meant ... wasn't good.

*****

Menudia!

Although they were all familiar with the strange legends, the terrifying tales, the bizarre myths, until this precise moment, none of the picnickers had ever entertained the notion that Menudia could somehow intrude upon their reality, threaten their village, harm their school.

Menudia was simply some abstract ghoul they told stories about around the campfire late at night, like werewolves or vampires. Until Haley spoke her name, they all assumed that Menudia was this spectral, distant force that someone else would have to deal with, but surely never them!

Not much was known about how Menudia "took" people, or what becoming a Menudian truly meant, other than that those who were "taken" would lose "control" of themselves somehow, do only as Menudia commanded them to do, work to bring others "over" into the Menudian community ... and that once she set her sights on the residents of a town, she was almost impossible to resist.