You hesitate as Trix slides a signup form and pen across the Hypnokitty Club table. This would be a year-long commitment, and it's not like you'd be able to keep up with schoolwork if you spent the whole time as a brainwashed servant. Then again, if the school was able to alter reality so your parents wouldn't miss you, maybe it could magic the lessons into your head as well. You glance over at Tom, who's vacantly smiling in your direction. His speedo clings snugs to his slender, furry hips.
You swallow and start to fill out the form. Name, grade, student ID. One question asks if you would prefer to be a male or female, and you glance back at Tom's speedo and check off the male option. The final checkbox simply reads "Opt Out."
"What's this mean?" you ask Trix.
"Oh, that's if you don't want to be considered for the position of Master. The brainwashing is so much better, but don't feel guilty if you want to leave it unchecked. First-timers nearly always do."
At first, you thought that being waited on hand and foot by cute kitty servants sounds like a great way to go though the school year. But now that you've already signed your name, you're starting to reconsider. Wouldn't it be better to go all the way? Trix and Tom might be mindless, but they practically radiate happiness and contentment. The idea of sharing that feeling, not even being able to feel anything else, is suddenly irresistable.
You check off the "Opt Out" box and Trix claps her hands in glee as you slide the form back. She takes out a small red seal and stamps the bottom of the form, and an odd heat radiates in your chest. You get the feeling you've just entered some kind of magic contract.
"We're so glad to have you!" she says. "No time like the present. Tom, he's all yours!"
Tom places an arm across his chest and bows. "This way, sir."
His voice is soft and polite. He turns and walks away from the booth, and you feel compelled to follow him.
The two of you step into the school's halls, Tom leading the way. The corridors are mostly empty; everyone else is still in the gymnasium. Tom leads the way, keeping his back to you, and you watch his perky buttocks sway back and forth in a gentle rhythm. It's clear that he's totally unbothered by his nudity.
"New servants are inducted on an individual basis," he explains, in that same gentle monotone. "Orientation shall follow after your brainwashing and transformation. I assure you, it's a wonderful process."
You flush; this is real. You're going to surrender your mind to this club.
"How long have you been a member?" you ask.
"This shall be my third year with the Hypno Kitties, sir."
"So...what are you going to do after graduation?"
"Arrangements have been made. I will be sold to an agency for brainwashed servants like myself. This shall be my life."
"Your whole life? So did you want this before you first joined?"
"Who we were is no longer important," says Tom. "All that matters is what our Master wishes us to be. There is no greater happiness. Once I graduate, I will never have to think for myself again." He stops at a door like all the others. "Here we are."
He opens the door and leads you inside. It's somewhere between a classroom and a supply closet - mid-sized, well-lit, mostly bare except for a few wooden chairs and a opaque booth like a shower stall, floor-to-ceiling with no cracks or interruptions. The door has a kitty smile stenciled on its front, along with several strong locks.
To your surprise, you're also not the only ones here. A grey calico cat butler stands in front of the booth, arm-in-arm with another boy, skinny and with shaggy black hair, like they're going to prom. But as Tom walks you to one of the chairs, the boy turns to look at you. His face is pale and wide-eyed.
"Hello Tom," says the calico, pleasantly emotionless. "Another new member?"
"Indeed. Recruitment has been fruitful."
The calico sighs happily. "Master will be pleased. The booth is ready for this young man." The boy tries to tug free, but the calico doesn't budge. "There's no need to worry. You will make a fine servant."
"Let me go!" he shouts. "I changed my mind. You guys give me the creeps!"
"I apologize, sir, but your recruitment form is binding. You shall serve out your term, unless selected as the Master."
"Indeed," says Tom. "Please don't mind us. We shall wait our turn. Sir, let me help you relax."
For a second you almost get up from your seat, but then Tom places his hands on your shoulders and starts rubbing them. His soft pawpads massage up and down your back, across your collarbones. It's heavenly. The sensation makes your legs turn to jelly.
The boy turns to you one last time. "Help me."
You remember the stamp Trix placed on the club's recruitment form. No telling what might happen to you if you help this boy escape. But he's clearly scared, and the two cat butlers are totally oblivious to it. Should you help him, or watch him be brainwashed, knowing that you'll certainly be next?