The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Metal Harvest

Chapter 2: Abs of Chrome

(Warning contain’s surgical intervention)

Day Three

The Brothel took stock, its trawlers had netted well over the required 121 million potential entertainment units; further trawling activities were contra-indicated.

It would take 20.35 years to upgrade the catch to acceptable levels. Many would require age reduction therapy before even rudimentary upgrades could be safely initiated. Another entire batch would need to be accelerated to adulthood, but had the benefit of largely empty neural nets. That group would accept their programming with exceptional ease.

Dissection of a few hundred surplus units indicated that the species was significantly different from previous acquisitions; experiments would need to be done.

A Brothel Pleasure Unit (type one) needed to have an optimal blend of self-awareness, erotic skill and obedience. Most Clients preferred the pleasure units to at least appear to be capable of emotion-passion-lust without any forming of permanent life-bonds. It would be a problem, the new units required tight control until they became acclimatized to their roles and yet not so tightly that they lost the subtlety that clients required.

The Brothel’s databanks indicated a pleasure unit that had had minimal intervention, somehow having recruited itself without the tight mental control that the retrieval units imposed. The unit would be an excellent source of feedback on the exact level of control that would be optimal for the new units. A few bytes of information sent to the processors and the pleasure group that included Unit 442569-4 was assigned for immediate upgrade, a full five years ahead of its original schedule.

Day 15

Unit 442569-4 reactivated itself, slowly opening its eyes after the luxuriantly relaxing sleep session.

In fifteen minutes 30 seconds it was designated to be present in Surgical Intervention Facility 442, allowing for travel time that left 8 minutes 15 seconds in which Unit 442569-3 would assist with pre-op cleaning.

With a hiss of steam, the connection armature detached, Unit 442569-4 stepped out of its alcove and walked the two paces forward and three to the right that put it under chamber’s shower facility.

Cold water sluiced downward with savage skin tingling force, causing Unit 442569-4 to gasp. Confusion filled his mind, where was he? Who was he? What was he doing here?

Julian.... I am Julian Windsor, remembering his name was all it needed to bring him back to himself.

He looked around. The room was an alien unknown place and yet it felt intimately familiar. If he were ever confused or scared ‘this’ was a place he’d want to return to, comforting secure, and in some way it belonged to him and he to it.

He glanced over his shoulder at his alcove it was ‘his’ and he loved it, just as he’d loved his own bed back home...before...

As he stood there contemplating the invasion, the shower adjusted itself, receiving the corrected force and temperature requirements for his biology from the sensors in his co-processor.

Almost hidden by the steam, Raphael disconnected from his alcove and approached, eyes closed and peaceful. On his co-processor’s turret, his third eye scanned rapidly, its ray of laser light penetrating the luxuriant steam, sweeping a line of red across Julian’s naked torso.

Embarrassed by his nudity Julian moved his hand to cover his cock from Raphael’s red glowing gaze.

A wave of dizziness overcame him, he blinked and looked down, his hand had moved itself back to an at rest position next to his thigh.

Puzzled, he moved his hand to cover his genitals again. There was another wave of dizziness and the hand moved back to its previous position. This time there was an audible click, when he tried to move the hand a third time it remained where to co-processor had put it.

Experimentally he moved his left hand instead. The dizziness returned again with greater intensity, this time he felt his entire body lock up into immobility.

It seemed that he was allowed to observe, but not interfere.

Helplessly he watched Raphael retrieve a silver device shaped like a gun or injector from the wall and move menacingly close. Desperately Julian attempted to overcome his Co-processor’s control, the sweat of the effort washed away by the shower’s steaming water.

Raphael’s third eye stopped its ceaseless scanning and projected a grid onto Julian’s skin; with slow menacing precision he raised the device aimed just below Julian’s pectorals and fired.

Inside his head, Julian flinched, overcoming the lockout long enough to glance down at the green slime that was running down between his abdominals.

Without any trace of awareness Raphael reached out with his empty hand and began rubbing the alien slime into Julian’s immobilized body.

Soap!

Julian blushed with embarrassment, after all that fear it was only fucking shower gel!

Methodically Raphael worked his way around Julian lathering one grid square after another in sequence.

The dizziness returned briefly and Julian found that he had access to data on the procedure. In his mind’s eye a schematic of a human body materialized with grid squares coded red, yellow or green. Red it seemed indicated cleaned squares, yellow cleaning in progress and green equaled dirty.

By concentrating on the schematic he found that the green squares had subtle color variations indicating which square was next. It seemed that the cleaning would proceed from Pectoral grid five to tricep grid one and then on down his right arm to digit five grid four.

Why was it showing him this? Julian wondered. Then it occurred to him; perhaps the procedure was interactive. Concentrating hard he turned digit five grid four from a dull forest green to bright grass green.

Instantly Raphael stopped massaging tricep grid two and knelt, applying fresh soap to digit five grid four, his fingers delicately rubbed the foamy suds into Julian’s right pinky.

Julian felt guilty pleasure. There was something incredibly erotic about having someone knelt before you, their only purpose the cleaning of your fingers.

As there was no obvious way to stop the cleaning and it felt so fucking good anyway, he relaxed his control over the grid allowing Raphael to clean him in whatever order his Co-processor had designated.

All too soon the schematic turned from green to red, as Raphael silently moved from one Grid Square to the next.

Slowly it dawned on Julian’s pleasure soaked mind that there were only a few grids left to be cleaned, areas of himself that no man had ever touched.

The fun was over and designating a red grid square did nothing to prevent a gel-greased finger easing its way into his anus and giving it a thorough cleansing.

It felt strange, surprising and not at all painful, as he’d been led to expect. The finger pushed at a spot deep within his ass, like some organic pleasure button, suddenly his cock was rock hard and he desperately needed to wank.

His ass grid square turned red, leaving only his crotch. Raphael moved back in front of him, his eyes still closed but now with a happy sleeper’s smile creasing his lips. Soap was applied and Julian found himself gasping in pleasure, desperate to interact instead of just stand statue-like whilst Raphael’s seemingly expert fingers slithered around his engorged cock.

I’m not gay! I’m not gay! He thought to himself even as he neared completion.

Suddenly Raphael stopped massaging his cock, stood, turned around and walked back to its alcove.

The schematic in Julian’s mind was entirely red now. He wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed that he hadn’t got to cum or be relieved that he hadn’t cum like a gayboy.

The shower pressure increased sluicing away the foam, at the same time the lockout deactivated allowing him the ability to move again. His first act was to grab his cock intending to finish off the hard-on that Raphael unit had inadvertently caused.

His crotch and balls felt smooth. Alarmed he looked down at himself and discovered that the shower gel had also included a depilatory; the wild tangle of dark wire-like hair that had surrounded his cock was gone, replaced with smooth tender skin.

The Co-processor twitched slightly gripping his head more tightly, sending odd sensations through his nipple clamps and ear connection.

A feeling of correctness washed over him. He looked perfect. Getting rid of the unsightly pubic hair had been an entirely correct procedure.

His reproductive probe was at 90% erection, this also was optimal and should be maintained. He slowed his masturbation to a maintenance level so that there was no chance of triggering an accidental ejaculation.

Without wondering what he was doing Julian walked out of his home room and turned right heading purposefully across the concourse, occasionally giving his cock a rub.

He tried to pay attention to his surroundings, getting ready for his inevitable escape attempt, but it was getting harder and harder to think. It would be easier just to relax and let procedures take their course. By the time Unit 442569-4 reached corridor 440 its personality had been successfully returned to dormant mode.

Its primary visual receptors closed, the unit relied upon its secondary visual receptor to give a mauve tinged view of the world. As it walked it considered its situation. The spontaneous activation of its personality indicated either co-processor damage or a function of the unit’s un-trained brain. Without emotion it reported itself for maintenance.

Instantly it received a reply, it was to continue as ordered; a new co-processor would be attached during the scheduled upgrade. Unit 442569-4 felt emotion stirring within its personality, his co-processor was about to die and be replaced. In a dreamy theoretical way he felt regret.

* * *

Pain! Cutting across his abdomen. The comforting metallic warmth of the co-processor hugging his head was gone.

Julian’s eyes shot open, the wooly dreaminess was entirely gone and he could think clearly again. His memory was intact; he knew exactly what had happened, what he’d done and what he’d been allowed to do.

He was on an alien spaceship; he’d just walked into an operating theatre and happily strapped himself down to a surgical bed.

Cursing the damn coke-bots he squirmed, desperate to free a hand, or foot.

One of the aliens stood over him hesitating holding a scalpel that dripped with his blood.

It was a lovecraftian thing with hands that appeared to be octopoid tendrils augmented in polished chrome; he screamed and thrashed more desperately.

“Unit 442569-4....” burbled the alien addressing him in a gaggle of sounds that translated themselves in his head; instantly Julian calmed down, a part of him recognizing its designation.

“Please. Don’t do this. Don’t cut me again.” said Julian with a detached calmness that didn’t feel natural. Another part of him raged silently, he wanted to be allowed to feel that rage.

“Query Unit 442569-4: Why do you resist upgrade procedure?” demanded the creature sounding perplexed and hurt that any unit would reject its function.

The stupid question was too much, the artificial calmness disintegrated.

“Because it bloody hurts!” Julian snapped, forgetting for a moment that this was an alien Borg and not just an idiot.

The alien stood motionless its large green eyes closing, leaving only its robotic eye looking at him. Clearly whatever controlled it needed to think hard about the whole pain concept.

Finally it reopened its eyes.

“Pain is contra-indicated. Unit 442569-4 will interpret organically generated neural pain signals as pleasure signals during this procedure” it instructed.

“Oh right, so you just telling me it won’t bloody hurt is going make it true is it!”

“That is correct Unit 442569-4”

The scalpel descended, Julian tensed his abdomen scrunching his face in anticipation.

The blade sliced into him, like a knife into butter, only this time it didn’t hurt. Inside the wound, it felt like the sensation his cock would feel when his hand caressed it.

Forgetting what he was doing he arched his back, forcing the erotic sensation deeper into him.

“Cease movement, Unit 442569-4. Functionality may be impaired.”

Common sense told him that the alien Borg was correct; wriggling in ecstasy whilst someone had a scalpel deep in your colon was Darwin Award stupid.

Julian decided to do as he was told, although it was difficult, his cock was painfully erect and strobed with erotic need with every slice of the blade. Desperately he gripped the edge of the table trying to hold himself immobile.

His abdomen was a mess, and his naked buttocks were sticky with blood from the multiple entry incisions.

“You do know I could die from blood loss?” he asked, trying to focus through the throbbing intense pleasure around the wounds.

The alien Borg ignored him, swiveling 180° degrees to pick up a device from a tray, and then continued the move through the full 360°. The thing it held in its tentacles looked like a chrome jellyfish, a polished mushroom-like cap with fibre-optic tendrils hanging down like stingers from its underside. Despite its metallic appearance the device seemed malleable and soft.

The Borg reached out and lowered the thing onto Julian’s mutilated abdominal muscle. Instantly the tendrils sought out the incisions and burrowed into his flesh traveling down nerve and vascular ducts, spreading deep. Needless to say the pleasure was intense.... so intense that he felt the splatter of his own cum across his cheek.

A cold spray of watery liquid brought him back down to reality, he glanced down the length of his body, the alien was sluicing away his blood to reveal a perfectionist version of an abdominal muscle glistening and reflecting the room’s lights in its mirror-like surface. Its edges seeming to have merged seamlessly with his skin, the metallic skin fading to a normal tan within an inch of the unit’s edge.

Under the skin dark veins had spread, sub-veins branching out at right-angles.

Julian shifted his gaze to the surgical tray, seven more of the things waited in vacuum-sealed containers; apparently he was to have an eight-pack. Julian shivered, a weak, pleasure addicted, part of him wanted the alien to get on with installing more stuff.

It was all so confusing, part of his mind belonged to these creatures, and another part desperately wanted the opportunity to destroy them. At times he was an automaton or a willing accomplice and at others he had full free will; it was difficult to guess which state he’d be in from minute to minute.

Silently the alien Borg continued its work, now that the unit, had quieted and was operating within normal parameters, further verbal interaction was un-necessary.

By the time the third abdominal upgrade had been installed, the unit being upgraded had reverted to a non-aware pleasure state; allowing the procedure to be completed in only 86.2% of the time allocated to the task.

Satisfied with its work, Surgical Unit 2873924-1 returned to its alcove and reported its findings. The new units responded very well to induced pleasure stimuli. In its expert opinion the new units were almost ideal, with only minor CPU upgrade such units could edit any abuse The Customer cared to inflict and feel it as the most intense pleasure. Units that adaptable would allow The Brothel to charge a premium rate.

The next task was the installation of a new co-processor, an intermediate version, lacking the combat capture capabilities of the Type 22, but still not a permanent installation. ; the clamps that held it to the unit’s brain housing were slender, no longer needing to resist the frantic efforts of a non-Unit. The Co-Processor itself had an improved interfacing capability, the dizziness caused by the use of the aural duct as a datalink had been addressed.

Surgical Unit 2873924-1 paused, feeling something equivalent to the emotion ‘anticipation’, a signal that The Brothel was about to give new instruction.

Information flowed; Its report had been received and acted upon, the Type 32 Co-processor it had been about to install was to be upgraded to a Type 32-A1-N8.

Surgical Unit 2873924-1 sent its acknowledgement and began making the adjustments. Instead of the usual four connections per nipple, the Co-processor’s control arms were to have rings with eight pleasure induction nodes. The reproductive probe clamp on the Co-processor’s tail was also replaced. The new tail had a massive twelve-pin connection and an anal aperture widener.

In a passive theoretical way Surgical Unit 2873924-1 was hideously envious of the prototype Pleasure Unit.

Gently it placed the 32-A1-N8 next to the Unit’s brain housing, arranging its slender arms so that the connection rings rested over the unit’s nipples.

Activation.

The needle-like connections stabbed into the unit’s nipples causing it to convulse once.

Unit 2873924-1 glanced at the brainwave monitor, watching the two readings synchronize successfully.

Silently Prototype Pleasure Unit 442569-4 got up off the surgical table and walked away to its next task.

In a passive theoretical way Surgical Unit 2873924-1 longed to see the prototype’s return...it was going to be a Hotty.