Gala’s Gift
by Captain Eazy
9. Factory Floor
The flight attendant woke Dan some time around noon, at least by his body clock—but then they had been flying west, gaining time. A glance though the windows showed him only an endless soft mountain range of cloud, shining white in the sunlight. The sky overhead stretched forever, a deep sapphire dome. Danielle gave him a gentle nudge. “We need to prepare the cabin for landing, Mr. Fieldwell,” she said sweetly. “I hope you enjoyed your nap.”
Wondering why he still felt so woozy, Dan got up, clutching the silk robe closed with one hand, and mumbled, “Yes, thank you. You don’t get service like this on commercial airliners.”
“Our only goal is pleasing you, sir,” Danielle said, and the red jewel-like pads on her diadem twinkled merrily in time with her words. “If you’d care to freshen up, we have a little time before beginning our descent. The lavatory is back there on your right.”
It was opulent for an airplane lavatory, with the usual toilet and tiny aluminum sink, but it was wide enough also to provide space for a shower enclosure that would be misery for a fat man. Dan found it not exactly roomy, but at least adequateCno worse than the bathroom in the London hotel where he and Gala had honeymooned! Dan took a brief, hot shower, toweled off with some difficulty—the compact enclosure did not really encourage fully-bent elbows—and availed himself of a little set of toiletries, deodorant, shaving cream and disposable razor, aftershave, and even an unaccustomed touch of cologne. Then when he took the red silk robe off its hook, he found a clear plastic pouch hanging underneath it and containing fresh, brand-new underwear, just his size. They were not his brand, but felt decadently soft and expensive. He got into the tee shirt and shorts, then slipped his feet into the scuffs provided, and when he emerged, Danielle handed him a thicker packet. “Your clothing, sir,” she said. “I’ll step into the galley to give you privacy while you change. Your shoes are there beside your seat.”
“Thank you.”
“Not at all, sir. Service is our pleasure.” With a wink, Danielle took herself off toward the galley, her cute butt twitching in the restraints of the short, tight uniform. Half bracing himself on the seat, Dan got into his trousers, shirt, and jacket, then sat to don socks and shoes. He noticed with a smile that his black Oxfords, which had already been polished to a high sheen, now shone like patent leather. He had just settled himself in when Danielle returned, so prompt that he fleeting wondered if she’d been spying on him while he dressed. “Fasten your seat belt, sir. We are about to begin our descent.”
Dan did, fumbling a little with the lap strap. He grunted to himself, wondering why he was still so sleepy, and why he nearly remembered some erotic dream that lay just beyond the reach of recall. As Danielle strapped herself in, he looked idly out the window and saw they only about a thousand feet high. They had left the cloud cover somewhere far behind, and bright sunlight poured over the emerald world below. The jet was angling down toward a landscape of rolling green hills, deeper green forests, and silvery threads of watercourses. It looked very bucolic.
Emmeline’s clipped voice came over the speaker: “Mr. Fieldwell, we shall be on the ground in approximately ten minutes. Be sure your seat restraint is engaged, and before I get very busy with the landing, may I say what a pleasure it was seeing you aboard?”
A faint frown creased Dan’s face. The words, spoken in the pilot’s clear, cool British accent, were without obvious irony, but he remembered, or thought he remembered, her looking at him naked and saying she could fancy him. Or was that part of the not-quite-recalled erotic dream? He couldn’t be sure. They passed over what looked like a respectably large municipal airstrip, banked, and then came in flat and easy for a perfectly smooth landing, no bouncing, no jarring. The jet slowed, turned, and taxied toward the small white terminal. “Here we are,” Danielle said as they rolled to a stop. She rose and then helped Dan unfasten his seatbelt. For some reason his fingertips felt strangely numb. She brought his briefcase and said, “I hope we’ll be the crew that flies you back, sir.”
“There are more than one?”
“Oh, yes, sir! Our airport can even accommodate medium to large passenger liners. We have a good bit of traffic coming in. But there are only two corporate jets, so I think we have at least a fifty-fifty chance of seeing you again.”
“Well, I’d enjoy that. You’ve been very kind.” He had a dizzy moment of disorientation, as though he were coming out of sedation. “What was I sayingCoh, thank you for the flight.”
“Oh, no, thank you, sir.”
The fair Emmeline and the dusky Susan waited just outside the cockpit and beside the door. “I hope you liked your flight,” Emmeline said with a fetching smile.
“It was the best I’ve ever had,” Dan said, matching her smile and wondering why he found this competent, controlled British girl so provocative.
“Oh, sir,” said Susan in her Carribean lilt, “wait until we fly you back! We’ll outdo ourselves, I promise.”
Behind Dan, Danielle asked, “Oh, are we assigned to the return flight?”
“We certainly are,” Emmeline said. “We’ll take off at noon on Saturday and have him home by seven-thirty p.m. However, at the moment we must deliver Mr. Fieldwell to Mr. Gerrard’s office. After you, sir.”
Dan had to take the steps down to the tarmac slowly, as if he were wading through molasses. He felt that strange giddiness again, a touch of dizziness. He had the strangest sensation that he was suffering from a hangover, or from the aftereffects of some drug. His head didn’t ache and his tongue wasn’t furred, but he felt the oddest sense of mental detachment, a kind of lethargy that made him take deliberate, slow steps. The morning sun was warm, much warmer than at home. He glanced at his watch. It read 8:50.
“We reset your watch for local time whilst you slept,” Emmeline said. “Just another little service we provide.”
“Oh, thanks.” On the tarmac, Dan squinted up into the bright morning sky. Low on the eastern horizon he glimpsed a line of cloud, evidently the edge of the cloudscape he could recall from the moments just after he woke up. “Where are we, anyway? California?”
“Not in the States at all, actually,” Emmeline said with a smile. “It’s a privately owned island.”
“No dinosaurs on it?” Dan asked, essaying what felt from the inside like a goofy grin.
The three women laughed far more heartily than his feeble joke warranted. “No dinosaurs,” Susan assured him. “I think you’ll find that all the life forms here are hot-blooded!”
A young woman, looking hardly out of her teens, drove up in an electric-powered cart, unlocked a panel, and took Dan’s heavy suitcase out. “I will take this to Transport, E-121,” she said. “You have a car waiting there.”
“Thank you, T-207,” Emmeline responded.
Dan was wondering why she had her hair cut so short—it was hardly even stubble and looked like a basic training GI buzz cut—and why she, like the air crew, wore a silvery ruby-studded diadem, but he didn’t have time to ask. Emmeline threaded her arm through his, Danielle took his briefcase, and the exotic Susan took his other arm, and they walked companionably into the terminal, the girls provocatively bumping him with their soft hips. “Just through here,” Emmeline said.
Dan had a brief impression that the terminal stood almost deserted: no passengers waited at the unmanned gates they passed. Then they emerged in a compact, very clean garage, bright in the glare of overhead flourescent panels. A dark vehicle waited for them, new but not a limo. The teen had just put his bag in the trunk, and she slammed the lid down. Danielle opened the rear door for Dan, and he slipped into the automobile. “I’ll see you again Sunday,” Danielle said with a wink before she handed over his briefcase and shut the door.
Susan had slipped behind the wheel, and Emmeline slid into the passenger seat beside her. Dan took a deep breath. The car smelled brand-new, and it was immaculate, deep comfortable black leather seats, heavily tinted windows. He didn’t realize until they had left the garage that it was an electric vehicle, humming along efficiently with almost no road noise. “This is very comfortable,” he observed.
“I’m glad you like it,” Emmeline said with a glance back over her shoulder. “Personally, I’ll feel much better when I can get out of this bloody uniform.”
“You’re right about that,” Susan said. “I hope you are hungry, Mr. Fieldwell. Mr. Gerrard is planning to offer you something special for lunch.”
“That’s very nice of him.” Dan cleared his throat. “I’ll, uh, need to take something from my luggage first—”
“The vibrating dildo?” asked Emmeline. “Oh, don’t worry about that right now. First Mr. Gerrard simply wants to meet you. He’ll take care of replacing it later, after he explains the problem with the instrument.”
Dan felt his face flushing. “Oh,” he said. “I didn’t know that you, uhC”
Susan trilled a laugh. “I believe he thinks a vibrator is a delicate subject, E-121!”
“Oh, I am sorry,” she said, with another look back at him. “We’re not very self-conscious about such things here, you see. As employees, we receive free samples of the merchandise, and S-157 and I are well acquainted with the pleasures of a Sensutech vibrator.”
“Mm, I love the feel of them,” Susan said. “They’re the best There’s nothing like being naked in the hot sunlight and making yourself come with a Sensutech vibrator.”
“Not to say we don’t appreciate experiencing the real thing now and again,” Emmeline added with a carefree laugh. “Here we are, then. Through the gate and we’re on the grounds.”
They stopped at a gate in an imposingly tall chain-link fence, marked ELECTRIFIED FENCE: DO NOT TOUCH, and although it appeared to be unmanned, the gate opened automatically, admitting them. They continued along the meandering driveway for perhaps another fourth of a mile until Dan raised his eyebrows in surprise, seeing what looked like a small town appear as the car topped the final rise. The place covered some hundreds of acres, modern white buildings gleaming in the sun, some several stories tall and windowless, others lower and looking like nothing so much as buildings on a modern college campus. At an intersection, Susan turned left, away from the largest buildings, and then took the car down a ramp into sudden cool darkness. She pulled up at a curb. “This is your stop,” she said to Dan. “Just there, take the lift—”
“The elevator,” corrected Emmeline.
“The elevator. It goes straight up to the lobby of Mr. Gerrard’s office. We know where you are to be quartered, and we’ll drop your bag off there. Enjoy your stay, Mr. Fieldwell, and we both look forward to seeing more of you on Saturday.”
“Until later,” Emmeline said.
The elevator opened in a sprawling, pleasantly-appointed room. A thirty-something woman, bespectacled and with medium-length dark brown hair, rose from her desk as Dan stepped out of the elevator. “Mr. Fieldwell,” she said. “I’m Mr. Gerrard’s assistant. You may call me—” there was the oddest pause, as if she could hardly remember what to say next—“Norma. I hope your flight was comfortable.”
“Very nice, thank you.” He smiled. “I see you wear the diadem, too.”
“Yes, sir. This way, sir. Mr. Gerrard is expecting you.”
She wore the same kind of gray uniform that the women aboard the airplane had worn—though she did not move with any kind of obvious sexual challenge, as Emmeline did in her cool way and as Susan did in a more bawdy and straightforward manner. She opened a door and said, “Mr. Fieldwell is here, sir.”
“Come in.”
Dan stepped through, and Norma closed the door softly behind him. He saw a tall man standing on the far side of the room, looking out of a floor-to-ceiling window. “Welcome, Mr. Fieldwell,” he said without turning around. “You made very good time. Do you have the loan papers?”
“Right here,” Dan said.
The man turned. Dan couldn’t place his age—he might have been an experienced forty or a well-preserved sixty. He had a full head of black hair, a lean, intelligent face, and deep-set, dark brown eyes. “Sit here,” he said, indicating a chair beside a desk big enough to play baseball on. “Let’s dispose of that to begin with.”
Dan took the seat he had been offered, and Gerrard sat behind the desk in a comfortable-looking tall executive chair. “Here we are,” Dan said, opening his briefcase and taking out the imposing stack of papers. “If you want to double-check the terms, it’s a sixty-month loan of five million dollars with an interest rate of—”
“Very good,” Gerrard said, reaching for the papers and a pen. “I’ll repay the entire amount, principal and interest within—shall we say six months? Or would a year be better?”
“Ah—you have five years, and—”
“But I don’t really need the loan, Mr. Fieldwell. May I call you Dan?”
“Yes, most people do.”
“Call me Jerry.” Gerrard was signing and initialing the loan documents, not missing a spot. “I wanted to make sure you would come, because you’re the problem I have to take care of. Let’s compromise and say that I’ll pay the whole amount back in nine months. Your bank will be happy with that amount of interest, and should I need their services in the future, they’ll be glad to help me. Here, you’ll want to review these and sign where you need to sign. N-4 is a notary public, and I’ll call her in to seal where necessary.”
Dan clicked his pen. “N-4?”
“Norma.” Gerrard must have pressed a buzzer, because the receptionist came in and said, “Yes, sir?”
“Get your seal. We have some papers for you to witness.”
“Yes, sir.”
When she returned, she asked Dan for proof of identity. Gerrard’s dark eyes twinkled. “She’s very officious,” he said as Dan showed her his driver’s license.
After the signing and sealing had been taken care of, Dan handed over the check for five million dollars, less a few thousand for the loan origination fee. Gerrard slipped it into a desk drawer, Norma left them alone, and then the President of Sensutech Industries leaned back and tented his fingers. “How many times did you bring your wife to orgasm with the Ruby Red, Mr. Fieldwell?”
“I don’t see what—”
“No embarrassment or macho reluctance,” Gerrard said evenly. “Just tell me.”
Yes, it made sense to tell him. Dan said, “Probably three times a day, for nearly three weeks. Say sixty or so.”
“And she did not use the instrument alone?”
“No, I used it on her, or else she was in my presence.”
“Good, very good. You established some level of dominance over her, I hope?”
“I did. Gala had a strict upbringing and lots of hang-ups about sex. I persuaded her to let me make all the decisions. She has developed an appetite for sex. She loves being submissive, and I find that I enjoy giving her explicit, even crude orders.”
“But you have a way to go, Dan. That’s why you’re here, not the loan. I don’t make sex toys to hurt people, you see, but to add to their pleasures. You have adjusted your wife to some degree, using one of my sex toys that was, unfortunately, shipped before we realized its resonator chip was set at far too high a level. However, to prevent you from developing a cruel streak, and to prevent her from developing what her friends and family would diagnose as a mania, a mental illness, you need to assume a great degree of dominance and control, tempered with a remarkable level of self-control. Frankly, at this stage I doubt that you would be capable of that. Most men would not be. I wouldn’t have been myself, when I was your age. That is why I need you here, for some attitude adjustment.”
“I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
“You don’t have to like it,” Gerrard said. “It’s begun already. You have ingested some creations of mine aboard the plane. I call them bions. They are not precisely what you would call nano-machines, but they are something like that: self-replicating artificial antibodies, I suppose you could call them. They are ultramicroscopic, literally crafted from just a minimal number of molecules. They are organic, and they can create copies of themselves from the food you eat and the water you drink. Among other things, Dan, they are going to make you immune to pathogens—some of those bions will recognize and destroy any harmful virus or bacterium in your system.”
“Wait a minute,” Dan said. “I didn’t—”
“Just listen,” Gerrard said, and Dan felt a strange compulsion to do just that. “I want you to be healthy because you will have to keep your wife sexually dominated and sexually satisfied. That might entail inviting other women into your bed. You should not and need not take the risk of being exposed to disease. However, the bions have functions other than seeking out and destroying germs. Other types are ticking up your biological systems right now, cleaning cholesterol from your circulatory system, toning up your muscle fibers, boosting your levels of testosterone and greatly increasing your production of semen.” His mouth quirked into a smile “You will find that your wife will not be able to conceive, but she will have a deep-seated need to absorb your semen, to swallow it, to take it into her vagina and her anus. As you might guess, your semen will be loaded with bions that will insure your complete control of your wife from now on. All of these changes in you are going to be necessary. Your new life is going to place demands on you. You’ll receive more bions while you stay here and while you are being conditioned. I’ll give you some broad guidelines for dealing with your wife and with other women in your life—”
“There aren’t any other women in my life!”
“There will be. It’s inevitable. Higamous, hogamus, woman’s monogamous, hogamus, higamus, men are polygamous. At some stage, Mr. Fieldwell, you will feel bored even though you love your wife. Some woman will appeal to youCbut unlike most philanderers, you will not have to conceal your lover. She will come into your bed, and she will be your obedient slave, servicing both yourself and your wife if you wish. Come with me now. I want to show you exactly why your wife changed so thoroughly, in such a short time. Leave your briefcase. I’ll have it taken to your quarters.”
Still feeling as if he were reliving an odd dream, Dan followed Gerrard to a doorway that opened to bright sunlight. “It’s ten a.m.,” Gerrard said. “The Service Transforms are having their physical conditioning at the moment. This way.”
They walked along a gently curving stone path that might have come from a Zen garden. It skirted fish ponds and fountains, led through bowers of bamboo and other greenery and pleasant blossoms, and then emerged beside a row of three outdoor basketball courts and a dozen tennis courts. “My God!” Dan said.
Dozens of women were playing basketball or swatting tennis balls in quick-moving, hard-fought doubles games.
Except for athletic shoes, sweat bands, and the silvery diadems, every woman was stark naked. They yelled and laughed like schoolgirls. Their young, smooth skin gleamed in the light. Some of them saw Gerrard and Dan and waved cheerfully before plunging back into their game, breasts abounce. None of them had the least trace of pubic hair, and the hair on their heads ranged from very short quarter-inch brush cuts to medium length. They flaunted their bodies, asses, pussies, breasts, muscles flexing in casual play, not trying to tempt the men but making no effort at all to cover themselves. They appeared to be completely unselfconscious.
“What are they—”
“They are Service Transforms,” Gerrard said. “Just one cadre. There are many of them in the factory. They have sex with each other whenever they want, because they must relieve tensions, but unlike Sensual Transforms, they have no constant need or drive for sex. These are the food-service workers, the maintenance crews, the drivers, and so on. Every employee of mine takes at least one hour of strenuous cardiovascular exercise every day, and every one of them has a balanced and nutritious diet. I can assure you that these ladies are in perfect physical condition. They’re never sick, and their medical exams show that they’re in top shape. Most of these women, had I not brought them here to work for me, would have wound up on the streets as drug addicts, alcoholics, victims of derangement. In the world they were runaways, misfits, useless to anyone, even themselves. Here they are useful, fulfilled, and happy. Come this way, please.”
They passed between two tennis courts, on which four magnificently built women played. Their headbands glittered and pulsed with red light as they chased the ball, smacked it over the net, and worked up a sweat. “The headbands,” Dan said, “the diadems—”
“Mind-control devices, I suppose you would call them,” Gerrard said. “They provide an interface with the workers’ brains. Without them, they would be dependent on me to give them every order. With them, they know exactly what to do, and they do it. They are not zombies, however. These women, and the Operational Transforms, still have personalities of their own. They can carry on an intelligent conversation and can interact with the outside world if necessary. Just like your flight crew.”
Dan stopped in his tracks, appalled as he thought of the cool, cultivated Emmeline, the roguish Susan, even the cheerful Danielle. “They’re all—slaves?”
“Servants, if you will. The pilot and copilot are Operations Transforms, with considerably more autonomy than even Service Transforms. The attendant, of course, is a Service Transform. In a sense, I would have to agree with you. Yes, in a way they are all slaves. If I set the computer to give them an order, any order, they will carry it out with complete obedience and cheerfulness. In the case of an Operations Transform, like the pilot, say, she will feel that the order is her own impulse. She will comply completely, but as far as she is concerned, she is acting of her own will, pursuing her own desires. To her the diadem is merely a source of happiness, well-being, and reassurance. It boosts the pleasure centers in the brain considerably, and she is addicted to the exhilarating feelings it gives her, yet quite confident that she is her own person. Here we are.” Gerrard opened a door. “This is one wing of the Imprinting Complex. I want you to see what goes on in here so you’ll understand what you’ve done to your wifeCI’m sorry, what is her name?”
“Gala,” Dan said.
“Pretty name. This way.” They stepped into a corridor. There Gerrard paused. “I first have to explain the Resonator Chip. It’s my own invention, like almost all of the technology here. Mr. Fieldwell, emotions and feelings are basically electrical impulses in the body’s nervous system. When your wife makes love to you, you feel her adoration in your penis, or so you imagine. Actually, the penis merely relays nerve impulses to your head, via the spinal column. In fact, sex takes place mostly in the brain. The nerves in the erogenous zones are only sensory receptors. The build-up of sexual tension and the release of orgasm all take place because of electrical discharges in the brain.”
“I think I understand,” Dan said.
“Good. The Resonator Chip can be imprinted with precisely those electrical impulses. It has to be in close proximity to the important nerves—in the case of a woman, in her vagina, her anus, or her mouth, for preference. As she is stimulated to orgasm, the chip records the pattern of her electrical field, the intensity of the sensations she feels in her brain and that manifest as a satisfying climax. Then when another, different woman uses the vibrator, say, that stimulated the first woman to orgasm, the chip buried in the vibrator replays those impulses, at an amplified level, and feeds them back to the user.”
“So Gala was having . . . someone else’s orgasms?”
Gerrard gave him a fleeting smile. “In a way, although that is not exactly what happens, and it is rather simplistically expressed. Ideally, the second woman, the one using the vibrator, has her own personal climax, unique to her but greatly boosted by feelings from the chip. These are more intense feelings than she has ever experienced, as a rule, and you can easily understand how a woman could be conditioned by such feelings of pleasure.”
“Pavlov’s dogs,” murmured Dan, feeling uncomfortable. However, in her case, the resonator had recorded such an unusually powerful climax that it threatened to override your wife’s, in fact to imprint her with the rather primitive and demanding personality of the woman who recorded it. And that is the trouble, Dan. The woman who imprinted that particular vibrator has such a powerful sexual energy—far more powerful than any other woman I’ve ever found—that we didn’t realize until the first day’s production had been done that those thirty vibrators posed some risk to their users. We adjusted the Resonator’s level downward later, but the first Ruby Red vibes had already been shipped, more than a thousand of them. Yours was the only one of the overpowered ones that was extensively used.”
“That’s hard to believe.”
“There were only thirty of them. We caught the others early, but we didn’t realize yours had been shipped directly from the factoryCfirst a quality control error, then an error in recording the serial number, unfortunately. These things occasionally happen. None of us are perfect. Through here.”
They stepped through a doorway, and Dan again felt overwhelmed.
Though pristine white, like an operating room, the room smelled of woman’s musk, of wet, hot pussy.
Twenty nude women lay on their backs, side by side on a sort of room-length bed down the center of the room, knees raised, legs spread. Dan and Gerrard stood behind them, looking at the crowns of their heads, all close-cropped and all adorned with the silver diadems. The women were all in the throes of pleasure. All writhed and groaned and panted. A long machine had extended silvery pistons, and at the end of each piston a jet-black vibrator gleamed, plunging in and out of the women’s pussies with a steady rhythm. They were all being mechanically fucked.
“These women are Sensual Transforms,” Gerrard said, raising his voice over the mechanical sounds of the pistons, the wanton murmurs and cries of the women. “Their conditioning is different. Their bodies are modified to require and to withstand frequent sexual gratification. The linings of their vaginas are thickened, their secretions are increased, and their libidos are set at an elevated level. All of these changes result in more of their brains being used for sexual excitement, memories, orgasms. Sadly, because of that, they lose a little brain function, including the ability to speak, though they can understand speech. But as you can see, they still feel, feel very intensely in fact. Come closer and have a good close look—they don’t mind. They can’t mind.”
They approached until they stood just behind the women’s heads. Most had their eyes closed in ecstasy, but two or three saw them and smiled lasciviously. They beckoned, stroked their own breasts, licked their lips eagerly. “There. Even as they are being serviced and as they feel an orgasm approaching, they desperately want more sex, you see, all the time,” Gerrard said. “Now, these are all good, enthusiastic workers. The one who imprinted your particular vibrator is not in this group, but her situation was similar. Ah, my dear, yes, since you beckon me so charmingly, with such urgency, I’ll fuck your mouth.”
The woman directly in front of Gerrard was straining her head back, reaching for him, cooing. He opened his fly and pulled out his erect cock, stepped forward, and she eagerly took it into her mouth. Gerrard smiled. “Let yours suck your dick too, Dan. She’s desperate for it.”
The woman in front of Dan had magnificent tits, and she was rolling and pinching their nipples frantically, her eyes pleading with Dan, her tongue licking her lips in bawdy promise. She opened her mouth and made pleading, begging sounds. Dan felt his cock engorge. But GalaC
“Do it,” Gerrard said. “Don’t think of being unfaithful to your wife. Look how badly poor A-189 needs your cock. Do it, and she’ll be so happy. You want to. You know you want to.”
Overcome with lust, Dan unzipped and pulled out his already-throbbing cock. The woman reached for him, he stepped forward, and she engulfed him with her mouth, her hands reaching back over her head, stroking his ass, coaxing him into a steady fucking rhythm. God, her mouth was hot! Between her spread thighs, Dan could see the piston fucking her with the black vibrator, in and out, her bare mound gleaming. Her tits, their nipples outrageously swollen, bounced as he fucked her mouth. She made anxious, eager “mm” sounds, the breath whistling in her nose. She tightened her mouth on his cock, sucking hard, as he plunged deep into her, feeling her tongue wetly lash his cock head. And then he couldn’t take it and shot his load. She clutched him to her and swallowed and gasped a long, bubbling contented sound of release. He pulled away from her, and she wiped her lips, her face flushed, murmuring “Ahhhhh, ahhhhh, mmmmm,” like a happy child. The machine apparently sensed her climax and the shiny black vibrating dildo pulled out of her. Dan could see that it was shaped much more like a man’s penis than was the Ruby RedCindeed, he recalled the model from his shopping. It was called the Ebon, and he seemed to recall it cost more than two thousand dollars.
“Well done, Dan,” Gerrard said. He was tucking his cock back into his trousers, and Dan zipped up, too. “She had at least a Level Three orgasm. The woman who gets that vibrator will feel very lucky indeed. Come along. They won’t miss us for long. A new set of vibes will roll out in ten minutes, after they’ve rested.”
They left the factory floor. In the sunlight, Gerrard said, “Now, I’m not doing anything to you, Daniel, that you’ll find onerous. Nothing that I will do to you will make you feel any worse than servicing that Sensual Transform’s mouth. The process will leave you happier, stronger, and healthier.”
“And a slave?” asked Dan.
“Certainly not. Your attitudes and behaviors will have been adjusted, but you will still be you. Indeed, I’ve been through most of the same process myself. You’ll come out of it better adjusted, happier, and more able to deal positively with your own sexual drives and needs. You will keep your wife very happy. You’ll have extra stamina, and your intelligence and awareness will be boosted. I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t soon get another promotion at work. In turn, you will be able to control all the behavioral side effects that your wife might exhibit, and you’ll be able to keep her satisfied to the point that she doesn’t, ah, absolutely exude sexuality. Right now she is, I am sorry to say, not likely to be completely satisfied by your attentions. You have made yourself her master, and she will obey you, but she will not be fully physically satisfied by your lovemaking.”
“She seems to be!”
“She very likely thinks she is, with her mind. But you’ve awakened needs in her body, Dan. She has begun to crave more sex than you, than any un-augmented man, can possibly provide. She has probably become too attractive. Please understand me, it’s not your fault. Because of the highly charged Resonator Chip, your wife now wants more sex than you, or any ordinary man, can provide naturally, and in her state of constant desire, she is producing pheromones that will draw others to her. Once you’ve been through the training, that will end. You will be a superlative lover. She will be happy, believe me. Here you are, Dan. This is where you’ll stay for the next two days and nights while your processing is being completed. Do enjoy yourself.”
They had stopped outside what looked like a small bungalow, and Gerrard had opened the door. Dan said, “You don’t seem to be giving me any choice.”
“I’m not,” Gerrard told him. “Already you have enough conditioning so I can order you to undergo the rest of the process and you couldn’t resist the command. But I hate to be overbearing and crude. Go inside, get comfortable, and see what happens. Go with what you feel, and that will be right for you and for your wife. Do it.”
“I could call the police,” Dan said.
“If you feel like doing that on Saturday when you return home, by all means call them,” Gerrard said. “But for right now—go inside.”
Dan did, feeling suddenly that he wanted to get away from this—this madman. Not until he began to move did he reflect that thisCpossiblyCwas not even his own idea. What had Gerrard said about people like Emmeline, the pilot? She would obey his commands, feeling they were her own idea. Still, unable to stop himself, Dan stepped inside, the door closed behind him, and he noticed only then that on this side there was no doorknob. Dan looked around. He was in a tasteful living room: two armchairs, a sofa, an end table, an entertainment center, a wall of well-stocked bookshelves. From an open door in the wall next to the shelves he heard a rhythmic, repeated, smacking sound.
It came from the bedroom. Of course.
A stunningly beautiful young blonde with short hair—and the ever-present diadem circling her head—was fucking another woman, a dark-haired one, doggy-style. The blonde wore a black harness that sported a strap-on dildo. The dark-haired woman stood beside the bed, bent at the waist. She leaned forward in a graceful curve, her big breasts swaying with every thrust, her arms crossed on the edge of the bed and her cheek resting on the backs of her hands. Her face held a dreamy look of contentment. She sighed in obvious pleasure.
The blonde glanced at Dan, winked, put her hands on her own shapely hips as if pushing them, and went on fucking. Dan swallowed. He had never seen more beautiful breasts, had never felt more aroused. Even though he had just been expertly sucked off, he felt his cock harden, achingly.
A voice, Gerrard’s voice, crackled from an unseen speaker: “Mr. Fieldwell, the two women sharing your quarters will be carrying out your conditioning. The dark-haired one is R-97. The blonde is J-201, the one who imprinted your wife’s vibrator. Their diadems will instruct them in everything that must be done. You will receive meals at appropriate intervals. In the meantime, accept the hospitality of these two. They have been excused from their jobs until Saturday morning. Put yourselves in their hands. I will speak to you again on Saturday.” Just as he finished speaking, the dark-haired woman, R-97, bucked in a powerful orgasm, crying out urgently. She pulled herself off the strap-on dildo, cooing, and turned toward the blonde, J-201. As she did so, she caught sight of Dan, standing immobile and fascinating in the doorway.
“Rraarrow,” R-97 murmured, like a cat in heat, prowling toward him with a merciless, predatory expression in her dark eyes.
“Mmm,” agreed J-201, her own blue eyes sparkling. They both came toward him.
10. Girl Talk, Girl Action
Because they were allCor at least because all the othersCwere planning to go Christmas shopping after work on Friday, that week the informal girls’ club met for lunch at noon on Thursday that week.
This time they met at Thai Mi, a newer restaurant, and ordered Chenin Blanc and spicy Thai dishes. Jane had picked a seat beside Gala. “You seem a little down,” she said in a tone of concern.
Gala managed a weak smile. “Well, I guess I’m just feeling a little lonely. Dan’s away until Saturday night,” she said. “Business trip. I miss him.”
Veronica, who had already had more wine than she usually drank, laughed her belling laugh. “Hey, I’ve got an idea here. What we ought to do,” she said, waving her glass, “is, we ought to take little Gala to Chester’s. We ought to take her there tomorrow night and let her see some dancin’.”
“What’s Chester’s?” Gala asked, to gales of laughter from the others.
“Oh, for God’s sakes,” said Louise, with an irritated, remonstrative glance at Veronica. “It’s a stupid strip club, Gala. For ladies. I mean, the strippers are all guys.”
“But very well-endowed guys,” Sarah said, lifting a wicked eyebrow. “Something to see when they start taking it off! And if you tip them enough, it all comes off, honey.”
“No, I really wouldn’t like that,” Gala said seriously. “I don’t want to look at any other men. I’m just going to stay at home like a good . . . uh, good girl.”
“You’re not the least bit curious?” teased Diane.
“No. I’m happy with Dan.”
“Good thinking,” Louise told her. “You’d just get in trouble going to a place like Chester’s. My God, what if someone you and Dan knew saw you there? Anyway, you’re not missing a thing, honey. Take it from me, those dancers don’t have anything Dan doesn’t have.”
“More of it, maybe,” Veronica said, to good-natured jeers.
“I think Gala’s perfectly right,” Jane said, reaching over to pat her hand. “If she stays put in her home, she’ll be safe and sound. No use courting temptation, I always say.”
“No,” said Diane with a waspish little edge in her voice. “What you always say is ‘no use courting men.’ Admit it, you wouldn’t mind if Veronica had suggested taking Gala to Wenches.”
Gala felt confusion spread over her face. “What’s—”
“Lez bar,” Sarah said.
Jane winced. “Please. It’s a place for Sapphic sisters to relax and unwind in a non-judgmental atmosphere.”
“It’s a pick-up bar,” Diane said flatly. “Believe me, I know.”
Jane sounded amused: “Why, Diane, have you made love to another woman?”
Diane took a long sip of white wine. “Occasionally.”
“How is it?” Gala asked, and everyone roared.
“Ask Jane,” Louise said. “She’s got the most experience.”
“No,” Jane said. “I’m really not. Because I haven’t ever fucked a man. Diane has. How does it compare?”
Diane shrugged. “Change of pace. I wouldn’t say it’s better, but it’s different. Sweeter, in a way. But when it comes down to the hot and nasty, I prefer a good throbbing cock to a well-licked clit.”
Sarah said, “I had no idea you were bi, Diane.”
“I’m not. And I’m sorry, Jane, but you don’t appeal to me at all in that way. I’ve tried the other side maybe, what? Three times? Twice I was mad at my first husband.”
“Hubie,” cawed Veronica. “Oh my God, I remember old Hubie! Honey, I told you he was an asshole!”
“You were absolutely right. He was a real sphincter,” agreed Diane. “He was screwing around himself, and he didn’t seem to care who knew it, so I figured why the hell not, you know? But I didn’t want to cheat with another man. That seemed wrong. A nice little girl, though—tell the truth, my college roommate and I did each other a few times, too, usually when we were drunk. Anyway, that and the two revenge fucks were my only experiences in muff diving and vibe-riding. And Lew is such a better lover than Hube, I don’t feel the need these days, frankly.”
“Well, we don’t want to take Gala to a strip club or a lesbian bar. Instead why don’t we take Jane to a country-western bar?” asked Sarah. “Get her drunk on Bourbon, maybe get her screwed by some big ole hunky cowboy guy. Don’t screw up your face that way, Jane. You might like it.”
“Don’t even joke about it,” said Jane. “The thought of a man putting his—his flesh inside me makes me physically ill. Give me dykes, not dicks.”
“To each her own,” said Veronica.
The waitress came over for their orders and they had to break off their naughty talk. But they ordered another round of wine, too. Gala was already feeling a little buzzy, and she determined to go easy on the next glass.
The appetizers and soups arrived. As they nibbled spring rolls and crispy tempura crab puffs, Gala asked Jane, “You know, you once said you danced in a place where you wore a latex—cat outfit?”
“Cat suit,” Jane corrected her. “Yes, when I was in college and poor.”
“Was that in a s-Sapphic bar?” asked Gala.
“Oh, no,” Jane said, rolling her eyes. “It was in a little place just off-campus called Pussy Willows, and it was full of horny college boys. I’d put on my tight red cat suit, strut my stuff to sexy music, peel it off nice and slow, and collect the tips. It was always a kinda cheap crowd—you know how poor college boys always are. Still, on an average night I could count on four, five hundred dollars for a four-hour stint.” She sipped her wine. “I did very well dancing there just on Friday and Saturday nights. I made it all the way through college on what I earned. It was sort of the sexy girl’s scholarship.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t end up impaled on some college cock,” Victoria said. “Bet they’d pay even more for that.”
“Oh, sure,” Jane said. “Some of the sluts turned tricks for fifty, a hundred bucks a pop. But I was a dancer, not a whore. I didn’t mind them looking at me, but I wasn’t about to go to bed with them. Even then I had a steady girl all my own.”
“Do you still have the cat suit?” Gala asked.
“What? God, no, that was nearly ten years ago, sweetie. They don’t last,” Jane said. Then a sly smile spread across her foxy face. “Why? You thinking about dressing up for Dan?”
“Something like that,” Gala said. Inwardly, she was marveling. A few days ago she wouldn’t have been able to ask the question, and if anyone had brought up a subject like a skin-tight rubber suit, she would have died of embarrassment.
She felt the soft touch of Jane’s bare foot beneath the table, stroking her ankle. “Mm. It turns some men on, sure enough. Tight latex. You can even get the paint-on kind now. It’s just like a second skin. You have to spread lotion very carefully on your skin first, and of course you can’t have any body hair. None at all. But It’s a great feeling. Like wearing a condom stretched tight over your body. Shows off everything, gets you and whoever’s looking incredibly hot. Feels very sexy, really, and you can see everything. I’ll see if I can find you a source.”
“I know, let’s all get cat suits,” Veronica said. “I know Harry’d love to unwrap me for Christmas!”
Gala felt Jane’s hand high on her thigh, beneath the table. The palm glided over toward the center.
Obediently, Gala spread her legs.
And calmly went on eating her curried shrimp.
Dan felt as if he were in imminent peril of death by mammaries. The two naked girls had captured him, had forced him back onto the bed on his back. He felt inexplicably unable to struggle against them, and as they squirmed on top of him, they rubbed their great tits in his face, the stiff nipples teasing his lips, the soft hot flesh pressing against his cheeks, his eyes, his nose. Gentle but eager hands explored and groped him. He weakly tried to push the girls off, tried to get up, but they firmly held him down as they stripped him, tossing his clothes aside, jacket, tie, shirt, trousers, shoes, socks, underwear. The blonde unfastened her strap-on harness and tugged it off, kicking it to the floor. Then both women nuzzled him, cuddled him, cooed in obvious and frankly lustful delight over his erect cock, stroked it, planted teasing little pecks of kisses on it. He tried to think of Gala, tried to resist—but the women were hot, and they were hot for him, and they were all three of them naked.
He felt a powerful animal attraction to the blonde. She was in marvelous physical shape, proportioned just right, with wonderful breasts, not huge, but in perfect harmony with her frame. Her legs were supple and strong. Her pretty pink nipples stood puffed and swollen with lust, and her bare pubic mound seemed to call to him. He kept stealing glances at her hairless pussy, which looked bewitchingly innocent. What had Gerrard said about pheromones? He wondered if the mere scent of her was driving him crazy. Something was.
But when he tried to roll over onto the blonde girl, J-201, she mischievously squirmed away. Finally both women pushed him off the bed, tugged on him and positioned him and showed him they wanted him to stand in the doorway and watch. He did, admiring their opulent bodies, wincing at the pressure of his straining, swollen cock. He wanted to fuck one of them, either of them. He wanted to reach down and jerk off just to release the incredible tension he felt.
The dark-haired girl lay back on the sheets, shapely breasts crowned with erect coral-colored nipples, her knees bent and her calves dangling over the foot of the bed. The blonde raised her eyebrows as though asking See? Do you see? She obviously wanted Dan to notice her friend’s spread, inviting, pink pussy. The brunette raised her eyebrows. She darted her eyes down in the direction of her hairless crotch and gave him a challenging smile. See it? See how wet it is? What do you think?
“It’s a nice pussy,” Dan groaned. “I’d like to fuck her.”
The blonde held up her hand—not yet—and smiled. Then she quickly knelt on the thick carpet and lowered her head to lick R-97’s pussy. She lapped so enthusiastically that Dan heard the wet, carnal, lushing sounds of her tongue, long loving strokes along the other girl’s slit, in deep and then fluttering up to brunettes’ clit, where she really bore down. Her lips encircled the other girl’s pink pearl, and J-201 reached out to grasp R-97’s legs just behind the knees. She lifted and spread them, wider, opening her friend’s hot slit for her probing tongue. R-97 rested her heels on the edge of the bed, humped her hips, and then gasped and quivered in an unmistakable orgasm. Then, quickly, the blonde rose to her feet, smiling, her chin and lips still glistening with the other girls’ pussy juices. She urgently beckoned to Dan, reached for his stiff cock, and pulled him toward the bed using it as a handle.
“You warmed her up for me?” Dan asked. “Is that what you’re trying to tell me? You want me to fuck her now?”
The girl on the bed was reaching for him with one hand, spreading her pussy with the other, urging him with little pleading moans. Dan found that the bed was at exactly the right height for him to stand between her spread thighs and glide his cock into her welcoming depths. With a look of grateful ecstasy on her face, the girl snuggled down, pressing her soft hot ass against the tops of Dan’s thighs. She straightened her long legs against his chest, her dainty feet beside his face, and with deliberate thrusts of her bottom, she began to pump him.
Dan thought he couldn’t hold back for very long, not as excited as he was. He encircled her thighs with his arms and pushed into her, deep, as deeply as he could. She gasped in pleasure, slowly opened her legs, and reached out her arms for him. As Dan bent forward, still fucking her, suddenly the other girl pulled something over his had
A cold, slender metal band—he saw flashes of red light in his peripheral vision and felt a moment of sheer panic
And then the diadem she had crowned him with spoke to him. Not in words, but in sensations, in feelings. Confidence welled inside him—he knew with absolute certainty that he was a wonderful lover, he had infinite energy, he could come and come and come again. The girl was his to do with as he pleased, he was her master, butC
But you will treat her carefully and value her. All partners are to be cherished. If pain is a part of sex, it is only playful pain, a game, nothing serious. You will not hurt her.
This is a goddamned computer program, he thought. Gerrard is feeding this stuff into my head!
And yetC
And yet although he recognized them as foreign, alien to his mind, he agreed with the sentiments, found nothing in them that he would or could reject. And he had a terrific sense of freedom and of control over himself. He could stay hard for hours, could come three, four, five times in a row! He felt great!
Behind him he sensed the other woman, the blonde. Her hands stroked his back, his flanks. She brushed his skin with the firm tips of her breasts, murmuring seductively. She pressed closer, closer.
And then he felt the strap-on penetrate him.
Another moment of sheer, unreasoning panic.
Then her thoughts, the blonde’s thoughts streaming through the diadem: I won’t hurt you. This is for you. This is my gift to you.
And he thought, I don’t like this! It makes me feel like a queer!
And then he thought, no.
No, this is pretty goddam hot, fucking one gorgeous bitch while another gorgeous bitch fucks me!
In that moment of internal communication, Dan understood the power of J-201. She was a being of almost pure, concentrated sexual energy. She was transferring some of her drive to him, was charging him, with her power. She encircled his chest with her arms, flattened her luscious breasts against his back. He felt her cheek warm on his shoulder, felt her exquisite fingers stroking his nipples, and suddenly they felt extraordinarily sensitive, as sensitive as the head of his cock!
R-97 stared at him with hot, lustful, eager eyes, and he sensed her thoughts too: This is good. This is so good! I have not been fucked this well in a long time! Fuck me harder! Fuck me deeper! Let us all three come together!
And from behind him, from the girl pumping him slowly, with what he felt as a stubby, slim dildo: You do like this. You do like this. I give my lust to you! You will fuck me, too! We will build memories! All three of us! You are like a god to us!
That damned diadem!
More, they both urged him. Harder. Deeper. Faster, oh faster! Now. Now! Now! He came suddenly, a shattering climax, shooting what felt like a pint of cum into the brunette’s cunt! The dark-haired girl screeched and squeezed his dick tight in her pussy as the blonde one shuddered and whimpered! She pulled away from him, the stubby strap-on dildo slipping out, leaving him, and he collapsed onto the brunette. She stroked his face and hair and cooed to him. The blonde, now free of the strap-on, crept into the bed and they pulled him up on it. They were already kissing him, nuzzling him, their hands busy fondling his heavy balls and stroking his sticky, slick cock.
And he was rising to the occasion. He realized he was hard again, that his dick was throbbing with the need to fuck again.
Contritely, submissively, the blonde settled back and spread herself.
Fuck me now.
Dan found his voice (he had been half afraid the diadem would render him mute): “I’ll fuck you. You suck my cum from her pussy.”
Yes! Thank you! Yes!
Again he stood at the foot of the bed, this time thrusting into the blonde’s tight pussy, a fantastic feeling. She had superb muscular control, she squeezed him, rippled her pussy over his cock, grinned at him as she made her cunt feel like an impish, grasping hand—he could have sworn he felt the individual fingers tighten, stroke, and relax. And then the brunette swung a leg over her friend’s head, her pussy drooling a silvery strand of his cum, and she settled down happily on the blonde’s mouth and began to rock. She leaned forward, and Dan leaned forward and they kissed deeply, tongue to tongue. He reached out and with one hand played with her tits, while with the other he stroked and teased the blonde’s fantastically hard and erect nipples. The brunette explored his mouth with her tongue, and he caught in his own mouth her eager, helpless whimpers of excitement as the blonde sucked and licked at her.
It came to him that somehow in this wanton act there was no vestige of selfishness. No one cared who came first, who came hardest. They all headed for an explosion of pleasure, each at just the right pace. They were all bearers of, and recipients of, abundant, pulsating pleasure.
Yes. You are learning. You are stronger already. You do not need to hurt others to prove that. You are beyond that need.
Not long before he would have called the triptych grotesque: one girl drinking his cum from another’s slick, open pussy while he fucked her. The other girl kissing him passionately, loving the feeling of the other girl’s mouth on her, loving the feeling of his cum dribbling out, loving . . . loving him. And he loved her, the scent of her, the feel of her, the excitement of her. And he loved the blonde for what she had given him, for what she had taught and was teaching him.
And he felt in his mind changes taking place. The diadem was directing them, and the bions, the submicroscopic things inside him, were carrying the diadem’s orders out, modifying him in body and in thought. He realized he was to receive more bions: They would come in food, in drink. He would swallow them willingly. The diadem was letting him know that Gala would have to change, too: He would be given capsules for her. They would make her better, would perfect her, make her absolutely subject to his will, to his pleasure, even as they made him the kindest and most considerate of strong masters.
The two of them would have perfect sex together.
Perfect.
Just the two of them. Nothing and no one would come between.
Perfect. . . .