The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Of itself the van didn’t look all that significant, parked as it was in the basement of the city centre multistory. Mickey O’Dwyer had been watching it for some minutes and there didn’t seem to be anyone with it. He ambled over and tried the driver’s door and found that it was locked—no surprise there!

The van, one of the larger white Ford Transits, had the Company Name ‘Tile-Style’ emblazoned on its sides together with a graphic of a stick-figure on its knees laying tiles. There was also a phone number but all Mickey knew was that the code wasn’t from anywhere near Birmingham which was why he didn’t recognize it. So the driver wasn’t from around here and obviously didn’t know the score...

He stepped away from the van and thought for a minute... The multistory’s lowest level was also used mainly for deliveries and had quite a few shop-access doors opening off it. It was normal for delivery drivers, who were early to park up and leave their vehicle while they went off to get breakfast in one of the backstreet cafes. Mickey glanced at his watch, it was ten to seven: this driver was early... Very early!

He made a decision, turned on his heel and wandered off in the general direction of one of the access stairways. Five minutes later a small grey van pulled into the bay next to the ‘Tile-Style’ vehicle... Much of the level was empty yet the driver just happened to pick that particular bay...

Neither the man driving nor the woman in the front passenger seat of the grey van moved for a minute or two although they did spend the time peering at whatever was caught by their vehicle’s various mirrors. Eventually, quite unhurriedly, Mickey clambered out, stretched and glanced into the cab of the ‘Tile-Style’ van; he smirked when he saw that it was still empty.

Then, ever so casually, he wandered around to the back of the Transit and tried the rear doors : they too were locked—no surprise there either. He glanced around: it was still all-clear: then, grinning, he pulled a ‘T’ shaped tool out of his pocket, pushed the end of it into the door’s keyhole and twisted it. There was a metallic grating sound’. Mickey grasped the door handle and tried it again and the door swung open.

With a self-satisfied smirk, O’Dwyer peered hopefully into the darkness inside the vehicle and then, eyes suddenly wide, muttered. “Oh, shit!”

Suddenly, ever so suddenly, several pairs of arms grabbed hold of the petty thief and yanked him up into the back of the Transit and the door swung shut as if nothing had happen.

It opened again less than a minute later and a very tall black-clad woman stepped out. Almost marching, she moved through the space between the Transit and Mickey’s van, opened the driver’s door of the smaller vehicle and folded herself in.

The woman inside, a scruffy thirty-something dye-bottle blonde, gasped in surprise and demanded. “’Ere, ’oo the fuck are you?”

The black-clad woman didn’t answer, or at least not with words: instead she turned towards Mickey’s wife and in one fluid movement produced a small pistol, aimed it at the woman and fired. There was a quiet ‘thud’ and a small dart seemed to sprout from her shocked victim’s thigh. This was followed by an angry shriek as Mrs O’Dwyer attempted to launch herself at the intruder whose left arm was more than enough to push her back into the seat.

“Why?” She gasped as darkness overwhelmed her. “Why me?”

“Because you were here!” The black-clad woman answered quite humourlessly as she started the van prior to driving out of the multistory carpark. The ‘Tile-Style’ Transit followed precisely two minutes later.

Pressure

Some three hours later and forty five miles away Thralls T17, E22 and F22 were directed to seek out Monitor-Raksha in one of the small preparation rooms that made up part of the Unit’s Processing Centre. It was a normal work day and the three of them had been busy inside one of the workrooms where they had been unpacking computer equipment prior to installation.

The summons had been projected onto the inside of their visors along with a ‘Priority-3’ code which meant that they should complete the task that they were working on before moving on to their next assignment. Thus it was another twenty minutes before they marched off as a little squad and headed for the Monitor’s location as displayed by their visors.

Off they strode down the dove-grey corridors, past doors of varying widths, past Thralls and others marching in different directions, past intersections: everything being anonymous save for alphanumeric codes displayed on collars or on small wall plaques.

Left turn, march along another identical corridor; right turn past two doors labelled ‘A1’ and ‘G5’; pause outside the next door on the opposite side... One that displayed the code ‘A3’. Where was ‘A2’?

Thrall F22 did not even consider this as it watched T17 input a code into the door’s keypad—a code no doubt supplied by her visor. The door swung open and the three eager Thralls stepped inside.

There was quite the assortment of bodies in the room: not that F22 was surprised by this for it was never surprised by anything that it encountered within its home Unit.

Monitor-Raksha was there as were two black-clad Hornets—members of The Collective’s security force. There were also three Medics, their bodies hidden by their green scrubs: F22 recognised one of the latter by her cheeky face and long blonde hair. It glance at the Red Cross badge on the latter’s collar which carried the identifier ’#17MD’—’MD’ meaning that the drone was actually a fully qualified Doctor.

There were others present too, including: Controller17 and six figures dressed in real-world clothes. Once again F22 was not surprised by this even though the ‘Emily’ identity deep inside her was. Thralls are conditioned to resist surprise as it could present a possible distraction, but the conditioning did not actually extend to the little part of its mind in which Emily normally dozed.

F22’s eyes flicked onto the figures dressed in street clothes as Emily’s ‘surprise’ infected it like some virus. There were two little groups of three each consisting of a pair of tall females supporting a smaller, shabbier figure: one of these being male. F22 and Emily both cogitated and then their thoughts coalesced... The taller females had the look of Hornets about them if their ramrod-straight postures and blank, wooden expressions were anything to go by.

Emily directed F22’s attention to the two figures that were supported by the disguised Hornets, clearly a recruiting party had brought them to The Unit... But why? Emily wondered.

There was nothing outstanding or special about them: not if appearances were anything to go by. In fact the only strange thing about them was that one was a man and the first male that Emily recalled seeing since her own recruitment many months before. Suddenly a plethora of conflicting thoughts and emotions poured out of Emily and into F22 with enough force to make her physically recoil.

F22 looked around furtively and gave an uncharacteristic sigh of relief as neither The Monitor or The Controller seemed to have noticed its un-Thrall-like twitch. Instead it returned its attention to the Emily-personna who seemed to be angry.

Recruitment? Hell these bastards raped my mind and body and are still doing it! She fumed. And you call it recruitment.

She directed F22’s gaze towards the male, who was on the small side, nondescript and had a face like a ferret. He was male so she suddenly thought of her former boyfriend. And where is Tony?

F22 tried to calm the rogue part of her gestalt-mind. This one does not know... Do you not remember that we scanned The Collective’s databanks but found no record that your male had been terminated or processed?

But I loved him! Emily insisted before realising that she was employing the past tense.

If you continue like this, the Thrall part of the mind thought in an attempt to regain control, our erratic behaviour will be perceived and this one will be reprocessed which could well lead to your eradication.

Emily fell into a sulky silence leaving F22 back in control of its mind once more although said mind was still being influenced by the Emily part of the gestalt and so remained inquisitive. It kept on looking at the group gathered at the other end of the room, especially at Monitor-Raksha who seemed to be displeased.

“It was a simple enough operation, Controller, so tell me again: what went wrong?” The Monitor said loudly. “The team that you dispatched were instructed to recruit Blodwyn Price and returned with this garbage, despite being given precise details of the targets appearance and routine movements!”

Controller17, formally a Police Inspector, stood its ground and recounted the morning’s aborted mission.

The Monitor turned towards the group in street clothes and snorted derisively before walking over and examining the recruits closely, her kitten heels clicking against the concrete floor.

“Hardly prime human specimens are they controller?” She asked.

Recognising the question as rhetorical, the silver former-woman did not answer even though it was in full agreement with the Monitor.

The Monitor, who had once been Dr Raksha Samri, suddenly turned to F22. “And what do you think?”

The Thrall was taken aback. “I... We... This one holds no opinion on the material.”

If the woman noticed the Thrall’s hesitation, she didn’t say anything although F22/Emily noticed an eyebrow lift ever so slightly. Instead, she turned her attention back to the to sedated captives. She stared at them and looked thoughtful for a few seconds then she exhaled noisily then walked over to stand in front of the female.

Controller17 followed her and there was a brief hushed discussion that F22 did not hear. The Controller nodded before turning to the Hornets who were supporting the male. “Take that to the modification suite.”

Then turning to the medics who were hovering in the background. “It is to be transformed into a Husk, that way it will be of some use.”

“Or at least as much as a male can ever be.” Monitor-Raksha muttered darkly as she turned her full attention to the captive female. Meanwhile the blonde Medic grinned happily as she and her team followed the Hornets as they half carried Mickey O’Dwyer out of the room.

The Monitor walked around the woman and the remaining Hornets who were the only thing preventing her for flopping into a heap on the floor, she did this a couple of times staring unblinking at her as she did so. She stepped back and gestured towards the three watching Thralls and snapping. “Strip her!”

The three of them worked efficiently for the several minutes of unbuttoning, unhooking and unzipping that were required while the Hornets assisted by altering the position of the woman as needed. At the end of the performance Mrs Elaine O’Dwyer was as naked as the day she had been born although it is doubtful if her body had sagged as much then as it did now.

The former Dr Samri stared at the grubby feet for several seconds before her she let her gaze travel slowly, ever so slowly up to the face and head: the Indian woman’s expression becoming one of disgust as she evaluated the material in font of her.

She had begun with the toes with their chipped red nail varnish and patches of hard skin, then up the podgy and blotchy legs, past the dimpled knees to the flare of the hips and the crotch that nestled in the ‘vee’ of the equally podgy thighs. The crotch with its patch of matted dark brown hair gave a lie to the woman’s hair colour.

The Monitor extended hand to explore Elaine’s pussy but thinking again, withdrew it suddenly.

Then it was on up the pasty, yellowish skin of the woman’s sagging belly and up to her breasts which, though small, were incapable of supporting themselves. Raksha shook her head slowly and then let her gaze continue up to O’Dwyer’s homely face with its vapid expression framed by an almost yellow mop.

The Monitor turned towards Controller17 and grimaced. “Not exactly promising material, is it?”

“Hardly, Monitor.” The Controller agreed. “This one does not believe that it could become a serviceable Thrall.”

The Monitor nodded thoughtfully. “Your recommendation?”

The Controller stared at the unfortunate woman for several seconds before uttering the word. “Euthanasia!”

The Monitor gazed at Elaine O’Dwyer again and, looking thoughtful made her decision. “No! The material can still serve our Mistress if it too is transformed into a Husk, although euthanasia would admittedly be more merciful.”

Later that day while F22 was resting after lunch, her guard down while thinking of nothing in particular, Emily picked her moment and emerged from the depths of the Thrall’s placid subconscious.

The lights were low in the Hive’s anteroom and the former woman was stretched out on the soft, rubberised floor, her head resting comfortably on O22’s tummy. It was on the point of drifting off into a light sleep when the insistent little voice that was so much a part of her made itself known for the second time that day. Emily sometimes remained dormant for a week or more but today was not one of those times. Something was disturbing the Thrall’s mind, something that nagged away deep down and it was this that had brought ‘Emily’ to the surface with. What’s a husk?

“Uh?” F22 gasped, taken by surprise by the mental intrusion.

A husk... What is it? Emily persisted.

F22 shuffled into a new position. Don’t you have access to this one’s memories?

Only the superficial ones—that which you refer to as your ‘database’ isn’t accessible. Emily seemed to say.

For some reason F22 felt uneasy, it was almost as if its former-self was standing over it giving it the distinct impression that its alter-ego’s eyes were staring down at it. F22’s own eyes, the only ones that the paired minds possessed, clicked open but there has no one there.

So tell me, what is a Husk? Emily wheedled.

F22 sighed to itself as it actually found the topic to be distasteful. It is nothing more than a depersonalised biomachine that has had everything human extracted.

There was a pause during which F22 began to relax: a rather long pause. I thought that had been done to me when I was turned into you.

“No!” F22 sighed and when O22, its erstwhile pillow began to stir, it realised that it had spoken out loud once more. It relaxed again. No, this Thrall, like all others, has free will—channelled, but freewill non-the less. A Husk has none. It has no gender either. The first part of its upgrade includes neutering.

F22 could almost sense Emily’s frown. The man, what’s his name... Mickey O’Dwyer... He’s going to be castrated?

The Thrall, ever punctilious, consulted its internal clock. The Medics will have carried out the whole procedure by now, but his testes are not the only thing to have been removed—the Medics will have excised everything.

What, his cock too? Emily gasped, or would have done if she had any breath to gasp with.

Everything! The Thrall part of their joint mind confirmed. They will even have cut away his vestigial mammary glands and nipples so that his chest is completely flat.

Emily fell silent for several minutes, long enough to make F22 think that she had gone away.

She hadn’t. What about Mrs O’Dwyer?

F22 thought for a moment. Do you really want to know?

The internal voice was tiny now... No, but I need too!

Everything that makes her female will have been cut away and smoothed over. Vagina, uterus, breasts: everything. The Thralls thoughts were cold now: so cold that Emily could sense the distaste that permeated them, though whether it was for Mrs O’Dwyer herself or for what had been done to the women, F22 could not tell.

Poor woman! The fully human shard of the joint mind recoiled in horror but never the less, she persisted. I take it that that is only the start?

F22 almost nodded, but caught itself just in time. It is a long process, all body hair will be removed and the skin infused with bio-metallic polymer to strengthen it and turn it a dull grey colour. He will be dosed with female hormones to broaden his hips and she with male hormones to widen her shoulders. The Hormones, of course, are synthetic and tailored to produce targetted results only: the net result will be a genderless identical bodies that lack all sexual characteristics: primary or secondary. They will also be given steroids to drastically bulk-up their muscle mass.

Then their minds will be totally channelled using a combination of Electro-Shock-Therapy, will-suppressant drugs and implantation. F22 paused to collect its thoughts. Its vocal chords are also removed as Husks do not need to speak.

A Husk is a robotized human: a bio-machine, not a person. It has memory banks but no memories of its own and is alive yet not living in the human sense. It has no free-will or freedom of action. It is in fact a hollowed out Husk of what used to be a person: hence the name. It will take about a year to administer all upgrades that will be needed to adapt it for heavy and repetitive labour. For the first time in their entire existence, the O’Dwyers will be useful and productive: no longer a drain on society. F22 concluded without irony.

Impact

Time moved on and F22 continued to work happily within the conversions facility, almost always in the company of E22, its former friend, Debra. Often alongside T17 whose former identity was unknown to the Thrall who had once been Emily: not that former identities were normally of any interest. Within the Facility they were directed and managed by Controller17 who oversaw their day to day activities and employment. There were other Thralls working there too, as well as other members of other of the Collectives castes including Medics and Hornets with whom F22 interacted from time to time when needed. Above them all, superior in The Collective’s hierarchy, was the constant presence of Monitor-Raksha who seemed to know everything that was going on at every level.

A typical day could see F22 using its initiative to complete such tasks as it had been given. It worked quickly, it worked skilfully, it worked happily and over the course of its months within the facility, it had developed a high degree of proficiency in this work.

The days extended into weeks and the weeks into months: how many of these had passed was unknown to the Thrall who had little interest in anything other than the here and now. However, not having a past or a future to worry over meant that F22, like every other Thrall, was always happy with life within the precincts of its Unit. It had not been outside in the whole of that time and did not even realise that the areas in which it lived, slept, ate, fucked and worked were mainly subterranean... Inquisitiveness regarding things of this nature were discouraged by its programming and yes! Despite its high degree of free-will, the F22 entity was largely constrained by mental boundaries although these could be adjusted if tasks or other circumstances required it.

All things considered, F22 was indeed happy living within the security provided by Hive, Unit and Collective. It knew its place within the infrastructure, it knew that it was valued and it knew that it was contributing both to the day-to-day and long-term functioning of the machine of which it was a small part. All of this served to make F22 content with its lot: but not as much as the fact that the Emily-presence had been dormant ever since the unplanned seizure of the O’Dwyers for the Emily-presence was the only thing that disturbed its tranquillity. Time indeed moved on and occasionally outside factors impinged upon the Thrall and disturbed its routine.

F22 report to loading bay three. Priority one. Read the command that flashed up on the inside of its visor one morning. The Thrall immediately broke off from its task of preparing IV bags within the facility’s dispensary and headed for the exit door while another Thrall moved in to seamlessly carry on with that task. Across the room, E22 also ended its task and headed for the same door, not that either of them knew the way to their destination.

As F22 entered the corridor a red arrow flashed inside its visor to direct it to turn right which it did as E22 fell into step beside it. A short distance and two changes of direction later they were joined by T17 who locked step with them.

“We are to assist with the unloading of transported material. This Thrall will provide direction if necessary.” T17 announced as they marched along the corridor.

“This one concurs.” E22 and F22 both answered in unison as the three of them left-turned at the next intersection and then it was along the short corridor and into a lift that whisked them up the equivalent of several floors. Then the doors hissed open revealing a large real-world garage containing two parked cars and one of the white Ford transit vans that the Collective favoured because they were so common and blended in easily.

When F22 looked around from where it was waiting alongside its Thrallsiblings it could see that the centre of the loading bay was empty: the cars being parked one behind the other in the far corner while the Transit was being unloaded by a pair of Thralls who were piling cardboard boxes onto warehouse carts: these Thralls, who were about thirty feet away, ignored the newcomers completely. E22, F22 and T17 ignored them back while they waited for their own task to begin.

The lift doors slid open and a pair of chattering Medics pushed a person-sized trolley out and wheeled it across to join the three of them. F22 glanced at the pair who were dressed in the ubiquitous scrubs of their caste. It didn’t recognise them, not even the brunette with normal skin colouration who it realized was one of The Unit’s doctors. Both medics, the brunette doctor and the silver nurse had medical bags slung over their shoulders.

“We keep out of way and assist if needed.” The brunette, whose collar badge proclaimed her to be ‘#09MD’, stated in a clipped Eastern European accent.

T17 nodded brusquely which was the only response necessary.

The Thralls continued to wait patiently until the large outer doors suddenly slid open revealing a cluttered yard outside the building. Another of the ubiquitous white Transits rolled in and came to a stand in the middle of the loading bay—the doors closing on it almost immediately. Then, with T17 in the lead, the designated Thralls marched to the rear of the vehicle almost before it had stopped moving. It was a routine duty right up until the moment that the Transit’s rear doors swung open and a Hornet flew out of the van and landed on her back with enough force to cause her to slide several feet across the floor..

The Thrall, recovering from its surprise much more quickly than an unmodified human would have, launched itself towards the vehicle in which another Hornet could be seen struggling with a second black-clad figure. In one easy movement all three Thralls vaulted into the back of the van and attempted to grab the figure who was far from subdued: hopefully the press of extra bodies should do the trick...

T17, who was the tallest and heaviest, managed to get an arm around the figure who was recognizable as a police officer. Despite this, the material continued to resist and kicked F22 in the abdomen as it grabbed for the copper’s legs. Winded, the Thrall shot out of the van an slid across the concrete coming to a halt next to the unconscious Hornet. And there it lay winded while the struggle continued. E22 managed to fasten on to the leg that had felled its Hivesibling and, limpet-like, clung to it. Meanwhile the two Medics hung back and carried on observing.

A scream of anguish and rage suddenly echoed around the loading bay as the policewoman and with a judicious application of knees and elbows twisted out of the grip of her three assailants. It leapt out of the Transit sprinting the short distance to the outer doors just as Doctor #09MD began her move. She had picked her moment carefully and ran forward with the trolley slamming it into the small of the copper’s back, propelling her face-first into the sturdy doors. It was a heavy blow, and had enough force behind it to rattle the thick sheet steel of which the doors were constructed, heavy enough to fell the woman. Gasping for breath, the material slumped down onto the concrete where she was injected with something potent by the silver nurse.

Then to F22’s bemusement the two Medics then high-fived each other yelling. “Yes!” As they did so.

Suddenly there were others in the bay: a squad of black-clad Hornets had poured out of the lift having been deployed to counter the disturbance that was now over.

Better late than never. Emily whispered in a corner of the mind that they shared... Needless to say, the mind’s other component was not at all pleased by her re-emergence.

As a result of its misadventures in the loading bay F22 found itself down in the medical bay along with the other casualties, the Hornet and the rogue material who was responsible for their injuries. E22 and T17 were also present and were currently being checked over by silver nurses.

“Nothing broken!” Blonde Doctor #17MD proclaimed cheerfully. “Just a couple of small grazes caused when you slid across the floor—concrete rash, we call it.”

She proceeded to paint a couple of patches on the Thrall’s back with something purple that stung, although she had been not warned the Thrall of this in advance.

F22’s breath made a sucking noise as it pulled away from the source of its discomfort but it stilled itself so that the Medic could carry on with her ministrations.

“Yeh, you’re dead lucky, love!” #17MD said cheerfully. “That metallised skin of yours is tougher than mine—better protection against damage too—most of the grazes didn’t go through despite you sliding quite a way.”

She paused as she applied the purple goo to the back of the Thrall’s head and then carried on talking, quite needlessly in F22’s opinion. “That Hornet’s okay, she was just winded, but the copper that they brought in has three cracked ribs. My colleague must have caught her a beauty with the trolley. She’ll heal though and we’ll work on her rapidly while she does because we’ve only got a fortnight to upgrade her before she goes back on shift.”

F22 detected a ripple in its consciousness caused by Emily’s emergence and frowned momentarily. The Emily-thoughts were puzzled, however. I don’t get it. Find out how she can go back to work as a copper after they’ve change her.

“Be still!” Snapped F22.

“You what?” Chuckled the Medic which made the Thrall realise that she had spoken her annoyance out loud.

“I... I... Was wondering if you will be much longer.” The Thrall stuttered as she tried to keep the confusion out of her voice.

“Nearly finished!” The Doctor chuckled again. “You’re making nearly as much fuss as the copper was before my mate #09MD, sedated her!”

Ask her, damn you!

“Er, this one was wondering what we are going to do with the policewoman. You said she was going to be converted yet was also going back to work. How is this possible?” The Thrall asked, sounding genuinely puzzled.

The Doctor put the bottle and brush back onto the treatment table and turned back to F22. “Simple! Almost all of the modifications will be to her mind and there’ll be virtually nothing added to the rest of her that’s detectable, even her implants will be largely organic. She’s going to become a Drone: superficially human but still an integral part of the Collective. She’ll carry on being a copper, but she’ll report things to us and be there whenever she’s needed.”

Torsion

Later that morning, F22 was directed to work with the former O’Dwyers who the medics had judged to be sufficiently healed for detailed conversion work to begin. Much of the conditioning carried upon material obtained by The Collective revolved around using sexual stimulation to overwhelm the mind’s resistance an to reward the correct responses... A Husk, however, has nothing to stimulate.

And while work upon material being upgraded to ‘Thrall’ was essentially psychological in nature and took time there was no need for such subtly in the case of a Husk who were converted rather than conditioned. If one looked closely, the hairless heads of the former male and female both faintly showed pink lines and little patches of fading scar tissue that would vanish as their skin was modified. The narrow two inch line running along the tops of their heads concealed the site where a laser had been used to cut slots in their skulls into which a bio-active computer had been inserted. A paper thin sheet of etched circuits now nestled between each brain’s hemispheres where it was ‘growing’ a network of fibres that were invading and overcoming critical regions.

The faint pink patches on their temples were the result of electrical lobotomization that had been used to destroy those memories that would prove inconvenient which in effect meant all of them. A core of unwanted brain tissue ha then been removed before a second control device had been inserted, this one being known as a ‘captive bolt’ constituted the primary means of interface between a Husk and the Collective that controlled it.

F22, of course, knew all of this yet, much to its annoyance, still had to explain it to Emily. The Thrall had expected the shard of its former personality to be disgusted but was surprised when she wasn’t... The persona was intrigued, if anything—probably as a result of her biological knowledge which had been preserved intact.

So the conversion is essentially complete? The Emily-presence asked, observing the grey tinge that was beginning to manifest itself and de-humanize the new Husks’ appearances.

Internally, yes. All work upon their nervous systems and genitalia has been completed. The Thrall-mind confirmed and then shifted its gaze to the groin of one of the conversions so that the Emily-presence could see that the creature was as sexless as one of the dolls that she had played with as a little girl.

Oh! I wasn’t expecting that... Was that the male or female? The former Emily asked radiating astonishment.

F22 eyes flicked across the barcode imprinted across the front of the creature’s black collar. “251/08: it was the female.”

Oh. Emily exclaimed. She looks so... flat! Then there was a pause. Hang on, you can read barcodes?

The Thrall shrugged. It is a simple skill and as to the Husk being flat well it is yet to build muscle, but the steroids that it is receiving in its diet will see to that and heavy exercise will harden and define its musculature.

Emily remained quiet for some time. She hadn’t meant that kind of flat but realised that the entity whose body she shared could not fathom the subtlety of her meaning... Instead she just observed quietly. The pre-Husks were kneeling and secured to frames much like the one that she remembered from her own conversion...

How long ago was it? She wondered, shielding her thoughts from the Thrall.

She didn’t know and suspected that F22 didn’t either: not that this seemed to bother her alter-ego. Emily let her mind relax as she watched the process of robotization play out. The frame wasn’t quite the same, she noticed and the sanitary requirements of the two victims were taken care of by quite a sophisticated plumbing system. Although she rather suspected that some of the pipework was multi-purpose and that the rectal sluicing module was being use to introduce drugs—suppository-style... Or at least it would be if I had designed the system.

The latter thought pulled her up sharply. Could she inflict such indignities on a fellow human being? The Emily of old certainly couldn’t but she, she suspected, was no longer that Emily and suddenly felt chill fingers running down the spine that she shared. She was beginning change, there was no getting away from it: but change into what?

As Emily’s perception turned outwards once more she saw that F22was making delicate adjustments to the apparatus attached to the pair of pre-Husks she tried eavesdropping but couldn’t penetrate the wall that F22 had erected around her part of the mind. Emily chuckled to herself. Either the Thrall didn’t trust her or F22 valued its privacy. She didn’t know which but was tempted to find out.

The road back to consciousness seemed to be a long one as far as PC Laura Smith was concerned. First came the realisation that there was a quiet humming sound that was nothing to do with the Teddy Bear that she was talking too. The humming came from somewhere else and the Teddy Bear seemed unaware of it. It was a large brown Teddy Bear with a big shiny nose like a Koala’s... Teddy Bears didn’t have big shiny noses and they didn’t have penises either, or at least the little one that was sitting on her bed at home didn’t.

There was a a bright, pinkish light—Laura tried to move her head—the light seemed to be coming from everywhere.

The humming intensified and the Teddy Bear slowly faded before vanishing completely: penis, nose, brown fur and all, until nothing but the light remained.

There was another sound, the scrape of something being moved... May be it was the Teddy Bear coming back? She tried to turn towards the noise, but there was no sign of the Teddy Bear or his(?) (her?) penis...

There was only the bright pink light...

Nothing but the bright pink light...

And the sound...

The hissing hum...

If my mom doesn’t call me soon I’ll be late for school. Laura thought and felt anxiety well up from the pit of her stomach.

Laura panicked.

The pink light was... Pink...

And her eyes were still closed. Still in panic-mode she forced them open.

There was someone in the room with her—someone grey and blurred. Laura turned her hea towards the moving figure. “Mum?” She asked, although because her mouth didn’t seem to want to work properly, all that came out was a sort of drawn out. “Muuuh?”

The figure seemed to be behind frosted glass judging by the way that it changed shape as it moved. But changing shape, or not, it was still grey which meant that it wasn’t the Teddy Bear. Laura felt a wave of disappointment pass over her for it had been a nice penis, sort of long and brown and fat... Not furry at all, not like the rest of the Bear.

The figure leaned closer and seemed to be looking at her. Laura blinked and the frosted glass rippled making her realise that it was her eyes that were gummy.

The figure spoke... It didn’t sound like her mother or the Teddy Bear either for that matter. It spoke, but she couldn’t tell what it said.

“Waaab?” She answered and realise that there was something in her mouth, something that extended down her throat.

She tried to move, tried to wipe her eyes, tried to remove whatever it was that was filling her mouth but something was trapping her arms.

The figure’s head seemed to cock to one side as it regarded her for a few moments then arms reached out and brushed her ears leaving her with the sensation that something had been pulled out of them and then she could hear clearly.

“You are awake, that is good.” The silver-grey figure said.

Laura thought so too.

The hands reappeared and the policewoman felt something being pulled out of her mouth and throat. She swallowed and licked her gummy lips realising just how thirsty she was.

Suddenly a nozzle was thrust into her mouth an she was instructed to. “Drink!”

She did so, sucking the cool water out of the tube and swallowing time and time again. It was nice water, it was refreshing water but it had a slight bitter taste. Laura noticed this but was too thirsty to care.

While she drank, she felt a damp cloth being wiped across her eyes and her vision cleared revealing much that she did not understand, such as the naked shiny metal woman who was leaning over her.

She focused on the face: it was clearly human and very feminine despite having no hair other than eyelashes. The face smiled pleasantly revealing teeth that looked human despite being almost a luminous white and being framed by shiny gunmetal grey lips.

“Where am I? What are you? Where’s the Teddy Bear?” Laura asked rapidly, still groggy from her sleep.

The figure stepped back and Laura tried to stand but found that she couldn’t as something seemed to be stopping her.

“You are here!” The metallic woman answered with cheerfully accuracy.

“Where’s here?” Laura asked, slightly puzzled by the literal answer that she had received.

“To answer all of your questions in turn, you are in conversion room three within the Gloucester Unit of The Collective. This one is a Thrall. There is no Teddy Bear.” The woman answered calmly.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Laura said rapidly. “Collective? Like the Borg in Star Trek?”

The silver woman smiled again. “If you wish, yes just like in Star Trek except there is no USS Enterprise and no Captain Picard.”

Laura seemed surprised. “You know about Star Trek?”

“Of course, I used to enjoy watching it.” The woman answered.

Laura shook her head at the robot woman who had a slight North Midlands accent and enjoyed watching Star Trek. Hold on, is she a robot? She said she was a thrall... The thought ended in a frown. “What’s a Thrall?”

“This one is a Thrall, it is a human female modified and enhanced to serve Mistress and the Collective that she created.” The woman stated proudly.

Laura realised that she needed to take charge of the conversation... This thing was clearly holding her prisoner and there were clearly more like her as she recalled a vague memory of being grabbed as she was parking her car after coming off shift and then there had been a fight when the van stopped. A fight with lots of them, dozens of them, that ended when she had been rammed from behind. She definitely needed to get this creature to talk.

Laura smiled. “What’s your name?” She asked pleasantly.

“This one’s designation is F22.” The answer was equally pleasant.

“Yes, but what is your name?” The copper persisted.

“This one’s designation is F22.” The Thrall repeated.

“Why are you holding me? I’m a police officer you know. You could get into a lot of trouble over this.” Laura continued trying to sound matter of fact and non-threatening. Threats in her position would, in the words of the Borg, be futile.

“You were selected precisely because you are a police officer.” F22 then turned away and busied herself with some items and bottles on a trolley.

Laura’s mind raced. “Please let me go. I’m sure someone has made a mistake and if you let me out of here, I promise that you won’t get blamed.”

F22 turned around, a loaded syringe in its hand. It moved towards Laura and injected her left arm. “This one cannot release you as you are cited for upgrading.”

Several things sunk into Laura at that very moment. Firstly the ease of the injection brought it home that she was indeed stark-bollock-naked. Secondly she realised that she was held much more securely than she had previously thought with straps securing all of her to some sort of chair. Thirdly she knew that she was totally helpless and fear suddenly gripped her. Fear so intense that she wet herself, yet there was no feeling of wetness and the urine seemed to just vanish somewhere without leaving her sitting in a puddle.

F22 turned and headed for the door. “Wait, wait , wait!” Laura called after her with some urgency.

The silver woman turned around. “Yes?”

“Y... You said I’m going to be upgraded...” She felt panic rise “Are you going to make me into a Thrall like you? All silver and no hair?”

The Thrall shook her head and smiled again. Then sensing the woman’s fear, tried to reassure her. “Oh no. Do not concern yourself about that. You are to become a Drone.” And then she was gone.

Irresistible Force

PC Smith just sat staring at the empty room and wondered what the hell she was going to do. Still, someone would have missed her by now and she guessed that she had been here long enough to make her miss at least one shift; surely they would be missing her by now?

She still felt sleepy and guessed that it was something to do with the injection, or may be the water that the... Thrall had given her... It did taste funny thinking about it... Sort of bitter like an alkaloid... She panicked... Had they poisoned her? The panic subsided when she realised that if they were going to kill her they would have done it by now.

She must have dozed shortly afterwards because the sound of the door opening made her start. She jerked awake and saw that a Thrall was entering the room carrying a tray that had a steaming bowl balanced on it. She caught sight of the Thrall’s collar and saw that it bore a disc engraved with ’F22’ and relaxed. While not actually a friend, at least she had begun to develop a relationship with the woman so would not have to start from scratch.

“Hi!” The Thrall said brightly as she placed the tray on the end of her trolley.

“Hallo, F22—please call me Laura.” If she could only get the woman to see her as a person then that would make it easier for them to develop the relationship that she was working on.

“Hallo, Laura, this one has brought you food.” It said brightly,

The copper frowned. “How’m I gonna eat it? My hands seem to be tied.”

“This one will feed you as it does not wish to be attacked.” And at that it produced a spoon.

“You are my friend, F22, I’d never attack you.” Laura tried to sound hurt.

“You did the last time.” The Thrall said in a matter of fact voice as she scooped up a spoonful of gloopy grey-brown sludge.

“Yes, well... I was trying to get away then!” The policewoman said then opened her mouth to accept the proffered spoon.

The paste was warm and had a meaty flavour that was something like a cross between chicken and baked beans—savoury and slightly spiced. “Hey this is nice: what is it?”

“This one does not know.” F22 admitted as it presented Wendy with a second spoonful.

The meal progressed with Laura still trying to cultivate a friendship by asking little questions and receiving answers that were almost as bland as the meal. Then when she had swallowed the last mouthful she licked her lips. “Not bad at all.”

Suddenly she became aware of a bitter, almost metallic after taste. “My mouth tastes of something odd.”

“That would be a combination of the Scopolamine and the will-suppressant drugs.” F22 said in a very matter of fact voice.

“What?” Shrieked Laura as she lunged forward only to be restrained almost immediately by her straps.

The Thrall did not even flinch. “They were administered to make you more tractable and easier to condition.” She said in a very matter of fact voice as she lifted a water bottle off the trolley and inserted the nozzle into Wendy’s mouth so that the restrained woman could suck on it.

After she had finished, the copper glared at the Thrall. “I suppose that there was something in that too!”

“Only water, Laura.” She said as she replaced the bottle on the trolley.

“I’m going to be missed, you know, my colleagues are going to start looking for me soon if they’re not already.” Laura said before continuing in what she hoped was a much more conspiratorial voice. “So if you just give me back my clothes and let me go, I won’t say anything about your part in this.”

The Thrall shook its bald head. “There’s no one looking for you... Your employers believe that you have taken a fortnight’s leave. Your time-off was booked nearly a month ago, by the way. Unfortunately, your section sergeant will be more than a little peeved that you neglected to inform him but nothing that he says or does when you get back will matter to you by then.”

Stunned, Wendy wondered just how this was possible as she watched the Thrall setting up what looked like computer equipment. Slowly she relaxed... F22 was right... Nothing that Bob said really mattered to her...

She remained relaxed while the silver woman inserted ear buds into her ears and connected them up to the console that was now clipped onto an arm of her chair. Next came something that looked like a cross between a hairnet and a hat: this too having a USB lead dangling from it.

“Wos tha’?” She had just enough vestigial curiosity to make her ask questions.

“It is a mesh of electrodes and it will allow us to monitor your brain’s responses so that we can fine-tune them. We will also measure heart rate, blood pressure and skin conductivity which will let us judge how you respond to the images that you are about to be shown.” Said F22 who now sounded all the world like a school teacher.

Carefully the Thrall used goo to attach little caps to the woman’s nipples and it was no surprise that the caps had electrical leads too. Finally a thick probe was pushed into Wendy’s pussy—the Thrall taking great care not to dislodge the woman’s catheter as she did so.

“Wos all for, twenty-two?” Wendy enquired in a very slurred voice.

“We are going to condition you so that you will be totally happy once your new life begins.” The Thrall said brightly as she attached the final electrode patches to the woman’s chest and connected them up. The lights then dimmed and the slide show began shortly afterwards.

It began with a picture of Mistress being displayed on the screen that took up most of the wall in front of the restrained and wired woman. Laura felt a warm glow as the probe deep inside her pussy began to pulsate as did the little caps affixed to her nipples.

“Who dat?” The copper asked quietly as she stared at the beautiful woman whose image seemed to fill her whole life.

“That is our Mistress... She who created our Collective... She who owns us all... She whom we worship!” F22 answered in a quiet, awestruck voice.

She really is beautiful. Laura thought dreamily.

She gazed at the Goddess for several seconds—right up until the point that realisation dawned! Her mind cleared for a few moments as reality and the outside world broke through the comforting pink haze that was enveloping her.

“I—I remember her!” The copper said, shock momentarily focusing her mind. “I remember what happened... That woman... She’s dead! Your Mistress is dead!”