The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Author’s Note: This story is set in the same universe as “Drone.”

Three Ladies

Part One—Lady Andreuola

The first hint Lady Andreuola had that something was wrong came when she forgot her own name.

Her footslave, Gede, had neglected to pack some inconsequential clothing item, and Andreuola was reaching for her sensorywhip to punish the incompetent worm, which, truth to tell, had been her real motivation in and of itself, the missing clothes item, the nature of which she too had forgot, merely being her latest pretext to entertain herself with her serf’s pain, not that she ever needed a pretext, when everything went blurry. Her outstretched hand, and the whip on the counter before it, doubled in her vision, and she became quite dizzy. The cabin spun, and Andreuola was suddenly confused. In fact, for a second, the Thane noble was so completely befuddled she couldn’t even form a coherent thought.

She didn’t lose consciousness, but she did forget what she was doing, where she was, and, rather importantly, who she was. Then, as everything began to go red at the corners and black in the center, she seized the spinning countertop and pulled herself together, metaphorically as well as physically.

Who am I? she thought, feeling the cold steel of her mind. Where am I? What’s happening? She squinted her eyes and concentrated. The cabin slowly righted itself in her mind.

Her first thought on the road to recovery: I am Lady Andreuola of the Thane.

Then, I am on a ship in space, in my cabin on a yacht owned by my partner, Lady Matrieylla.

Finally, I’ve been attacked. Blink. No. I am being attacked.

That got her attention. Using her genetically enhanced Thane drive, coupled with her equally improved and resistant Thane constitution, Lady Andreuola roused herself. She looked around. Gede was lying on the floor of the cabin in a dead faint. The porthole on the wall showed not total blackness but the less complete darkness of ordinary space, with a multitude of stars twinkling in the background.

The sight told Andreuola that the ship was no longer in a light-bending envelope. They were traveling at a conventional speed in normal space. Still a little dizzy, Andreuola found a chronometer and saw at once—her superior brain made the calculations in an instant—that they still had nearly four astronomical units to cover. That meant they were still in the great void between Jupiter and Saturn. Despite the Solarian Empire’s huge system-wide population, their ship was essentially in the middle of nowhere.

Andreuola’s equally superior vision discerned a nearly invisible green aura outside the plasmetal window. Randomizers, she identified. Electromagnetics that interfered with the brain’s neuroelectric processes. Matrieylla’s ship was being bathed in them, which meant there was a source nearby.

Another ship? It had to be. A pirate? A statistical improbability, but, short of a sudden and undeclared war with Earth, the only possibility that made sense. Who? Andreuola’s mind called forth a list of enemies, from Centauri privateers to Xenonic mercenaries to a rivalry with one of her fellow Thanes of Venus. She didn’t have enough data to form a conclusion yet, and anyway, it didn’t matter! She had to get to Matrieylla and Dueynna, the only others on board who wouldn’t be severely affected by pulse weapons. Like her own, their enhanced nervous systems would block most of the harmful effect.

All this flashed through her mind in about a second. But, then, she was being slowed down by a barrage of numbing electromagnetic pulses.

Andreuola grabbed the sensorywhip and, after a moment rummaging, her dueling knife. She was a tall, shapely woman. Her hair was dark blond and flowing, her skin was bronzed and beautiful. She resembled an ancient Greek statue brought to life, clad in a black leotard. She was as perfect as only genetic engineering could make someone. She had never had a sick day in her life, and she never expected to. She was stronger, smarter, and faster than any “mere” human, and she knew it. Her blade was poisoned with a powerful anticoagulant. Even the smallest cut would bleed profusely, even fatally.

She left the cabin just as a loud mechanical noise reverberated throughout the ship. Grappling tethers, she recognized. They’re attempting to board the yacht. Whoever “they” were.

The ship lurched sickeningly. The synthetic gravity ceased functioning, and Andreuola was suddenly in free fall. Almost effortlessly, though, the Thane lady oriented herself and made her way to Matrieylla’s cabin. The yacht had no control room per se. All ship’s functions could be routed anywhere there was a chemiprocessor terminal. The problem was, Matrieylla was the only one with override authorization.

A door beside Andreuola hissed open. A second later the Lady Dueynna joined her in the corridor holding a particle pistol. “It’s Kul,” she said at once. “He sabotaged the ship.”

Andreuola grunted. “I know.” Once stated, her upgraded intelligence made the same leap of logic her colleague had. Jaran Kul was a Citizen of Earth, an annoying representative sent by the Congress of Species as an escort to the three Venusian women and official Earth envoy at Matrieylla’s upcoming wedding. The Citizens were the middle-management of the far-flung Solarian Empire. They occupied entirely the top house of the Congress and served as the spokesmen for the Empire’s ruling cabal secluded on Earth’s Moon. They also had a reputation for duplicity. Aside from the three Soldiers on board—female super-warriors and counterparts to the all-male Citizenry of Earth—there to act as their bodyguards, unnecessarily, Citizen Kul was the only non-Venusian on board, and he was the one who had arranged the timing of their trip. He had to be the saboteur, for the ship had been sabotaged. Both the space-bending light envelope and synthetic gravity ran off the same negative-matter systems.

He must have timed our drop-out to rendezvous with the pirates, Andreuola thought. She abruptly decided she was going to kill the little toady herself, slowly, if at all possible. Dueynna and Matrieylla would also want that privilege, but she would bargain with them for the right.

Before Andreuola could say anything, a second loud clanging rang out around the two of them, again as if something were being attached to the outside of the hull. A high-pitched whine filled the air, the nerve-shattering screech of metal penetrating metal. The Thanes winced in pain. With their heightened senses, it was like hearing a thousand fingernails scraping along a thousand chalkboards.

Almost as soon as it started, the dying metal sound stopped. A hissing noise began in its wake.

Both women reacted at the same time to the faint whiff of knockout gas. They each pressed her head close to a nearby wall—floor, ceiling, wall, it made little difference in conditions of weightlessness—took a deep breath of clean air while they still had some, and surged away from where they thought the drill-point had entered. They knew they didn’t have a great deal of time. Within minutes the yacht would be filled with chemical agent. Between that and the randomizer pulses, even they would be affected.

Matrieylla’s cabin had been ahead of them, but that was where the gas was coming in. The two Thanes flung themselves in the opposite direction. Andreuola saw Dueynna aim toward an equipment bay near the lounge area. Andreuola had a better idea. Since Kul was working with the pirates—he had to be, she had worked out the probability to higher than 94%—he was bound to have known about the knockout gas in advance and so would have taken precautions. Andreuola would let Dueynna hunt for protection. She would simply take the Earthman’s. She speared herself toward his cabin.

The ship shuddered. The whining sound came again behind them. Andreuola knew they were being boarded. Whoever the pirates were, their seizure of the yacht was proceeding with remarkable speed.

She admired their efficiency. It wouldn’t keep her from killing them, but she admired their efficiency.

Andreuola slammed against Kul’s cabin door. Without gravity, from her perspective, it was like she fell on top of it. She saw at once that it was sealed. Bracing her arms to either side of the frame, Andreuola bunched her legs, athletically flipped herself over end for end, and, when she was in position, kicked with both feet into the door. The plastioid material buckled, then snapped in twain.

“Get away from me!” she heard Kul’s voice from inside the cabin. Andreuola heard another sound too.

Danger! a powerful voice seemed to cry out from within her. Self-preservation was a strong instinct in Thanes. She twirled away from the door using one arm. A half-second later a thin yellow line streamed out of the collapsed door. The razor lance of light swung this way and that, slicing off pieces of the door and the walls to either side of the frame. Andreuola saw Dueynna duck as the deadly beam whipped past her, cutting holes in the opposite wall of the corridor and beyond. Her partner’s eyes widened.

Andreuola nodded to her. They understood at once they were dealing with an idiot. A cutterbeam that effective was a singularly stupid weapon to use on board a ship in space. It would slice through all but the densest of materials, including the yacht’s own hull. Andreuola had heard the telltale charging sound, but until Kul had fired it she had had no idea how reckless the man truly was. She would have to forego her plans of slow torture. This madman had to be eliminated at once or they were all dead.

The beam shut off. “Stay away! Stay away from me, you bitches!!”

How to storm a cabin when the target inside was facing the only door, holding what amounted to an infinitely long, recoilless, razor-sharp sword, and was willing to use that weapon despite what it might do to the ship around him? Even Andreuola was hard pressed to think of an answer.

She didn’t get a chance too, either. A sickly green aura highlighted everything in sight. The room spun again. The randomizers, Andreuola had time to think before their increased intensity smothered her senses in cotton. She felt increased air pressure too, possibly from the pirate ship pumping more and more gas into the yacht.

There’s . . no . . time, Andreuola thought ponderously and flung herself up the corridor again.

She whipped by Dueynna, saw right away how weakened she was by the combination of brain-numbing radiation and chemical agent, and so hit her in the side of the chin so as to grab the oxymask she was trying futilely to put on. Along with their sense of self-preservation, Thanes believed in the survival of the fittest. Dueynna went limp, and Andreuola slipped past her, breathing in the mask’s air.

All she needed now was an envirosuit. Another survival plan formed itself in her mind. She would go outside the yacht, attach herself somehow to the pirate vessel, and figure out her next step. Andreuola gritted her teeth. One or the other, the randomizers or the gas, she could handle, but not both at the same time. She breathed deeply, trying to clear her lungs of the gas as she raced down the corridor.

She passed a plasmetal port and grabbed at its ledge to stop her weightless descent.

The pirate vessel loomed outside the clear metal window. It was huge. Andreuola saw an irregular ovoid at least one hundred meters in diameter, the hull made of a composite ceramic studded with metal and plastic struts, antennae, and airlocks. She recognized some of the larger pieces of equipment. They were used to mount vessels to and extract ice from comets. From this and other telltale clues, the Thane predicted the ship usually operated within the cometary halo surrounding the solar system. Her eyes took it in, and she recalculated her earlier threat assessment. Andreuola cursed.

It was a Priapoid ship. Matrieylla’s yacht had been seized by the Priapoids.

The Thane noble flung herself toward another equipment bay.

The Priapoids were a post-human, genetically-engineered neosentient species with representation in the Congress of Species, though they hardly ever used it and in fact avoided Solarian politics. The name “Priapoid” was a colloquialism based on their appearance and behavior. Allegedly, they referred to themselves as “the Persons.” Like other neosentient castes within the Empire, they had used the biological sciences to enhance their heredity. Unlike Congressional species like the Thanes of Venus or the Basileis of Saturn, though, who had bred themselves for qualities like mental and physical prowess or health, the Priapoids had bred for sexual intercourse. It was well reputed that the common Earth pleasure drone was based on their looks yet possessed only a fraction of their carnal talents.

The Priapoids dwelt in the Oort Cloud. What in the universe were they doing here?

The ship twisted round. Andreuola couldn’t tell whether it really was spinning or it was an effect of the randomizers. She felt slow, weak. She broke open the bay and started rummaging. She had the envirosuit—guaranteed to keep its owner alive for weeks in all matter of environments—half on when the ship unexpectedly spun in an opposite direction, and Andreuola hit the bulkhead beside her hard.

She cursed, bounced, cursed again, tried to orient herself, and that was when she saw the Priapoids.

Two were floating effortlessly in her direction, one male, one female. They didn’t seem at all real for a moment, and Andreuola had the absurd thought that it was really only a pair of very detailed, very brightly colored balloons headed toward her. The sexualized humanoids were extremely odd looking.

Their skin was hairless and shiny, like the slick flesh of a dolphin or other marine mammal. It gleamed in the ship corridor’s lights, like plastic. The male was light blue in color, from his bald head to his nail-less toes. The female was purest ivory. They were naked and holding hands. Their physiques were unimpressive compared to a Thane’s or even an unmodified old human’s. They had pot bellies, their arms looked ridiculously soft and weak, and their thighs were entirely unmuscled. On the other hand, the blue male’s penis was simply enormous, and the ivory female’s breasts were massive and bouncy.

Their faces, while intelligent, were expressionless. In their free hands, they each held a randomizer pistol. They aimed as one and fired at the Thane before she could recover.

Andreuola tried to throw her knife, but she couldn’t. It was too heavy. Supposed to be weightless, she thought numbly. Rather unexpectedly, the Thane felt a sudden warmth in her pussy. Her nipples hardened painfully. She was, in the blink of an eye, quite surprisingly but thoroughly, aroused.

Her eyes glanced over the Priapoids again. All of a sudden, they no longer looked so unattractive.

They were actually quite . . . hot. Smoldering hot, in fact. Their skin was so smooth, so lovely, Andreuola longed to run her hands over it. It would feel like a soft plushbed, like liquid silk, like . . like . . . She shook her head, trying to clear it. No, she thought. NO! But the randomizers were confusing her, dulling her mind and senses. She let go of the poisoned knife, and it floated away harmlessly.

A green light passed over Andreuola’s eyes, and for a long time the Thane noblewoman knew nothing.

* * *

““I’m sorry, ma’am. There was nothing to be done. The laser sliced at a sixty degree angle through your companion’s brain.”” The voice, ostensibly male, was strangely high-pitched and tinny, as if the speaker had inhaled helium. It penetrated through the listener’s stupor. ““He died instantly.””

The grim pronouncement was oddly rendered by the clownish tone.

“I understand. Thank you, Nepa.” The second voice was female, though again it was strange. The cadence was flat and unemotional, yet buried underneath was a unique vocal quality. It gave the impression of great feeling held in reserve, a superhuman passion restrained by an equally powerful control. It resonated. “You may return to the ship. Let the others know there will be a gathering later in memoriam.”

““Yes, ma’am.”” The male’s voice again. ““I’m . . profoundly sorry.””

Sympathies expressed by a child’s animation character. The listener heard the figure walk away. For a long, unknown time, such sounds were all that she could focus on. The noises of the ship’s operation, the recycling of air, conversations: they were only barely comprehensible.

It was a misnomer to say that a randomizer pulse induced a state of unconsciousness, though that was the popular conception. What the weapon really did was interfere with the brain’s ability to remain conscious, which was not quite the same thing. Randomized subjects were unable to maintain a state of even elementary awareness. They were, literally, unable to think. While this condition often precipitated a state of unconsciousness, in itself the condition could best be described as a daze.

The listener had been heavily dazed, and she was slow to come out of it.

At length, she recognized, in an elementary, innocent way, that she was lying on her back next to a wall.

She felt very light, very ephemeral. When she moved to make herself comfortable, she began to drift like a feather caught in a breeze and was brought up short only by the short tether attached to her waist. Neither this tether nor her floating disturbed her. Nothing disturbed her. She heard people talking, and she listened as best she could, though she felt no pressure to do so.

“We are sorry about Ri,” another peculiarly toneless female voice said. “Yes,” a male voice with the same quality added. The listener felt very calm, very accepting. She was mellow, and the world was proceeding so smoothly without her that it seemed a shame to join with it again. Eventually, though, she turned over and opened her eyes. She was in a large open cabin. In the middle of the room, three glistening, vibrant figures stood together holding one another. One was male and blue. The others were female, orange and ivory respectively. The ivory and blue humanoids were comforting the orange.

“Thank you,” the orange female said softly, neutrally. “I miss him.”

Their hands began to touch one another, rather intimately for commiseration, the observer thought. As she watched, the ivory female crept behind the orange to provide her friend support, support needed as the male stepped between the orange’s open thighs and penetrated her with his gigantic cock.

The ivory female gently stroked the orange’s face as she had sex with the male.

The observer watched this copulation without much feeling, other than mild curiosity. What were these creatures called? The name was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t remember it.

Eventually, she watched the male and the female climax together and part. The three of them then held each other again for a minute, their hands roaming. The blue and ivory humanoids went to stand hand in hand together while the orange parted by herself. She turned her attention toward another person lying against the wall opposite the listener, a man in a gaudy costume.

There was something in the orange female’s expression that the listener found disturbing. Her face was placid yet full of rage at the same time. There were other people in the room beside them, too. Frowning, because it was the first time in a long while she had tried to fix something in her head, the observer tried to remember where she was. It came to her, finally. She was on the Lady Matrieylla’s yacht, in the large central cabin. I’m on Matrieylla’s yacht, she thought dreamily.

That seemed to settle things.

She almost turned over and closed her eyes again.

A thought prevented her, however. Not just a thought, either, but a question.

What’s my name?

That seemed a rather important piece of information to know, so she concentrated, she concentrated real hard and . . . it came to Andreuola at once. Her name. Where she was. The situation she was in.

The Priapoids!

Andreuola sat up, and she immediately took note that the blue and ivory Priapoids who had captured her earlier were looking directly at her, totally unsurprised by her sudden awakening. They still held their randomizer pistols, and they were already aimed at her.

“Do not attempt to escape, Lady Andreuola,” the ivory female said in what the Thane now recognized as a ‘Priapoid voice.’ “Or to attempt to bring us harm,” the blue male contributed a bare second later, in almost precisely the same tone. “We can sense your preparation. We would randomize you before you could strike. We would keep the beams on you until you were rendered a vegetable.” It was the flat delivery of the male’s threat that convinced Andreuola not to do anything. She had been threatened before many times, but never quite so cold-bloodedly. The lack of feeling in it held a ring of truth. If she got up, the two Priapoids would simply direct pulses on her until the higher functioning capabilities of her brain were permanently shut down. She glared at them.

In a flash, Andreuola recalled everything her eidetic memory could tell her about the Priapoids. Like the Thanes and the other twenty-odd remaining neosentient classes eligible for representation in the Congress of Species, the “Persons” were descended from the old Imperial Genus. They held ancestral grants to territories and biomodified species over a thousand years old. About five hundred years ago, though, they began to withdraw from Solarian affairs of state. Now, the Priapoids were only rarely seen in the inner system, preferring the cold and lonely expanses, and freedoms, beyond Saturn. They made their home among the comets of the Oort Cloud along with other solitary neosentients like the overly cerebral Drads, the animalistic Ryrra, and the truly perplexing Xen. The Priapoids’ reclusiveness, combined with the infamy of their sexual exploits, had resulted in the spread of many outlandish tales.

Separating fact from fancy, Andreuola suspected the brilliantly shaded humanoids could consciously control the sensitivity of their nervous systems. While true telepathy was a myth, they would be extremely empathic with such an ability, possibly to the extent that they could “sense” everything about a person physically, including Andreuola’s abrupt awakening and her preparation to attack.

And maybe they could do more. Perhaps they could also stimulate sensation somehow.

Andreuola thought about the deep and sudden sexual arousal she had felt earlier, just before being pulsed. Her stomach rose in protest. She found the glossy, plastic-like bodies of these three creatures abhorrent. In the light gravity—the ship was under spin now—they really did look like bright, colorful balloons. They had obviously done something to her to make her feel that way. She felt no attraction toward them now whatsoever. To her, the Priapoids were freakish and unworthy of their Congressional status, and when she got out of this she would advocate to have that rank stripped and to reduce them to the abject serfdom they deserved. They were not rulers like her. They were clearly an inferior neosentient class fit only to be sexual playthings, like the mere pleasure drones based on them.

“I demand to be released,” Andreuola said defiantly. “You have made war on a Daughter of the Thane. If you wish to live, you will obey me this instant.”

“We are perfectly aware of who you, Lady Andreuola, and whom you represent,” the orange female said. Her back was to the noblewoman. She was still looking at the still unconscious Earthman at her feet. “Your status does not concern us.”

“You are not important to us,” the ivory female said even more unequivocally. She, at least, was looking at Andreuola as she said it. “Do not speak until you are spoken to, or you will be pulsed.”

“Be patient,” the blue male Priapoid added. Andreuola met his eyes. The male was looking at her with a certain level of speculation, she thought. His eyes were taking in the curves of her precisely sculpted body in a familiar way. Nausea filled her again at the very idea of being with such a creature sexually.

Just wait, the Thane thought. Just you wait. She looked around Matrieylla’s lounge and did a threat assessment. Her immediate conclusion: she was in a lot of trouble. She was on her back, the gravity environment was one she was not well trained in, and not one but two randomizers were aimed on her following a previous and very recent high-level exposure. She might be able to kill one of the Priapoids, but not both, and there was still the third to deal with. And she was, in effect, completely on her own.

This was ironic because the room was absolutely filled with people.

In addition to herself and the three Priapoids, as Andreuola had already noted, the treacherous Earth Citizen Kul was slumped by a wall. Near him was Andreuola’s redheaded colleague Dueynna, still unconscious from the blow she had given her—not the best idea, perhaps, in retrospect—and now fit with a small, black module to the back of her neck. Andreuola recognized the object as a neural inhibitor, a restraining device that sapped a person’s strength. No such device was on Andreuola’s neck—she checked—but they were on the three Earth Soldiers, also slumped and insensible with them. The handicapping adornments were at odds with their pristine white and formfitting jumpsuits. Fitted so, they would be no help at all, even if they did wake up soon.

Finally, there was the yacht’s crew, all seven of them, as well as the two serfs Andreuola had brought with her, Gede and Zory, and Dueynna’s personal retainers, Thom and Pebry. They were Venusian Dreys, the lot of them, a caste bred for meekness and compliance, especially to Thane nobles. Soft, pudgy, and utterly non-aggressive, they would be more a liability in a fight than an aid.

The Thane’s eyes passed over the lone pleasure drone, tall, pink, and busty, and the two worker drones with it, gray and sexless, standing together. Andreuola didn’t consider them people. They were tools, nothing more. From her quick observation, the only person she saw missing from the yacht was in fact the yacht’s owner, Lady Matrieylla. She wondered where her colleague was. On the Priapoids’ ship?

Andreuola was calculating the odds on whether the creatures would carry through with their threat and shoot her if she spoke again—they were not in her favor—when the Earthman began to stir.

The Citizen Kul opened his eyes, looked around, and paled beneath his heavily made-up face when he saw the orange Priapoid. His rouged lips formed a ghastly contrast. He stood up in the weak gravity.

Andreuola watched with interest. Like her, he too was not fitted with an inhibitor.

“The plan . . worked, I take it,” he said. He wiped his brow, which was suddenly sweating. “That’s good.”

“Yes, your plan worked, Citizen Kul,” the orange female Priapoid said. Her naked bosom bobbed up and down in the nearly non-existent gravity. Andreuola again thought of plastic balloons.

“So. When will I receive my payment?” Kul asked. Andreuola should have killed the man when they first met. The Citizens of Earth were utterly untrustworthy except to their hidden masters on the Moon, for whom they were genetically predisposed to obey. It was as if all the deceitfulness and disloyalty they couldn’t show to them they gave to everyone else. But an Earthman had had to accompany the Venusian party to Matrieylla’s wedding. Like it or not, Earth dominated the Solarian Empire, and a marriage alliance between two ruling Congressional castes had to meet with their approval, even if it was only a minor diplomatic gesture. She saw Kul practically lick his lips at the thought of reward.

“Never,” the Priapoid said. The look of disappointment on the Citizen’s face was plain and immediate.

He stood there in shock. “But . . but why? I did everything according to the plan. The ship’s taken!”

“You killed Ri, my companion and life’s mate.” The orange Priapoid took a step toward the Earthman, and he backed up. Andreuola saw her fingers clench and unclench rapidly. Aside from that small gesture of anger, from the total lack of feeling in her voice, she might as well have said to him, “You opened a jar of candy treats.”

“No I didn’t!” Kul said at once. He looked around, saw no help from the other Priapoids, then saw Andreuola. “Did she say that? I never! I swear I never! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“You were careless, Citizen Kul,” the female said. “Your sabotage of the Lady Matrieylla’s vessel was woefully incomplete. You did not disable the three Thanes as you promised you would, and they responded accordingly.”

Kul shook his head.

“No . . no, that was the Soldiers’ fault. They were supposed to deal with the Venusians, but they refused me.”

They knew they couldn’t win, Andreuola thought, grinning slightly. She was enjoying this.

The Priapoid took another light step forward. Kul backed up yet again.

“You compounded your misdeeds by hiding in your cabin and using a cutterbeam to defend yourself.” The Priapoid spoke as if she hadn’t heard a word Kul had said. “The laser passed through many bulkheads. It passed through the head of my companion as well, killing him.”

Kul’s eyes widened. “That . . that wasn’t my fault!” He pointed at Andreuola. “It was hers. Hers!”

“You killed my companion,” the orange Priapoid repeated to the Earthman tonelessly.

“It . . . it was an accident. I didn’t mean to.” Kul’s back was pressed flat against the bulkhead.

Unexpectedly, the female stretched a hand out to stroke the Citizen’s face. At once Kul half-closed his eyes, opened his mouth in a shaky gasp, and shuddered in a way Andreuola watching from across the room could only interpret as an unforeseen moment of extreme ecstasy. The Priapoid kept her hand to the Earthman’s cheek, and he began to rock back and forth in small motions, lifting his hands to the level of his chest and letting his fingers dangle uncontrollably. The Priapoid’s expression was unreadable.

“I am going to use you,” she said to him. “I am going to wring as much pleasure from you as it is possible for your primitive nerve endings to experience. I will ensure that what you feel will be the greatest, most complete joining in your life, and when I am finished, your nervous system will be linked to mine permanently.” She began removing the Citizen’s harlequin-like clothes. Her every touch elicited a spasm of delight. He was completely helplessly, incapable of doing anything to defend himself. “Your body will be mine. Your will will be mine. Our encounter will take on an epic quality in your memory. It will be the measure of all things, and all things shall pale before it.”

“. . yes . . Yes! . .”

“You shall crave my attention forever. Do you understand, Citizen Kul of Earth?”

He nodded. It was all that he apparently could do now.

“Then know that for the death of my companion, I shall never let you experience anything even remotely like this kind of pleasure again, and the memory of it will torment you forever.”

“. . I . . I understand . . please . . please!”

She pulled his tight pants off. “Knowing then that you shall be an unfulfilled addict for the rest of your life, do you now beg for my touch?”

He was incapable of saying no.

“. . yes, please . .” The Priapoid pushed Kul to the floor, then straddled him, looking him square and coldly in the face as she did so. She began. Andreuola watched in mixed horror and fascination.

A few minutes later, she left him. Kul was shaking like an old man, mewling like a young girl. He wept.

The orange Priapoid drifted over to the other two, and they brushed hands. Although no one spoke, some message seemed to pass between them. The blue Priapoid handed over his pistol to the orange.

Then, together, the three creatures looked at Andreuola. She felt a chill down her spine.

No, she thought. You will not do that to me! She tensed, placing her palms to the curving bulkhead.

She would die or be rendered a brain-damaged idiot, but she would not allow those things to touch her as they had touched the Earthman. He was quivering like a baby and making soft, wet sounds. I’ll take at least one of them with me, Andreuola thought, and prepared to launch herself at the trio.

She never got the chance. Before she could move, the two Priapoid females fired their pulse weapons at her. It was a short burst and induced only a momentary dizziness and vagueness of action, but it was long enough for the blue Priapoid to safely approach and take the Venusian woman by the hand. His skin was as soft and artificial as she had imagined it would be like. At the same time, she felt a light shock, as if his flesh was charged with electricity. The jolt snapped Andreuola back to a full state of consciousness. It also made her completely helpless. As the blue Priapoid’s palm wrapped about hers, Andreuola stiffened like a hard piece of naturewood. Her muscles locked up tight, and she could no more punch or kick at the monster beside her than she could fly through space under her own power.

“I am Le,” the monster said. “You are pleasing to me.”

NO! Andreuola screamed inside her head. She couldn’t speak either. Her entire body was outside of her power. Still holding onto her hand, and somehow exerting control through the contact, the Thane stood in the weak gravity and, hand-in-hand with the blue male Priapoid, she was led out of Matrieylla’s lounge and through the captured yacht. She couldn’t even turn her eyes to catch a last look behind.

This can’t be happening! Andreuola thought. I am a Thane! I am a Landowner of Venus! Every bit of her struggled to regain control. Her movements were jerky and mechanical, as if the muscles of her body were being individually controlled and operated. Perhaps they were. The Priapoids’ mastery over their own and others’ nervous systems was greater than she had realized. She was being manipulated like a puppet. They half-walked, half-floated through the yacht. Above her and to either side, she saw the thin but deep slices in the hull where Kul’s laser had cut. Makeshift plastic sealant had been apparently, and quickly, squirted over the cuts to maintain atmospheric integrity. The two of them approached the main airlock. He’s taking me to their ship, Andreuola belatedly realized.

A short tunnel connected the vessels. As they passed from one to the other, the Thane noble felt a steady but sharp increase in weight, and as they passed the threshold into the Priapoid ship itself, her feet settled firmly onto the ceramic floor. Synthetic gravity, Andreuola recognized. It was Venusian standard, too, just like home. She hesitated briefly at the entrance, making one last great effort to use her increased weight and newly found leverage to her advantage, but that momentary hesitation was all she achieved. Inside her head, Andreuola cursed violently.

Beyond the airlock was a chamber that looked like a short, squat cylinder turned on its side. Hand rails and benches were arranged to either side, along the ceiling, and the floor, giving the room a ridged look like the barrel of a projectile weapon.

The Priapoid stopped and, still holding Andreuola’s hand, led her to one of the benches. She sat down, and he stood before her, their arms outstretched toward one another. The creature tilted his head.

“You may speak,” he said finally, indulgently.

Andreuola found that she could. “YOU FUCKING MONSTER!! LET . . ME . . GO!!!”

There was no verbal response to her words. Instead, the Priapoid touched her face with his other hand, and in a timeless instant Andreuola stepped outside of herself.

Her reaction was a combination of shock, anger, amazement, and an absolutely excruciating, mind-blowing degree of pleasure. It took her outside of herself. One moment she was in herself, the Thane, Lady Andreuola. The next she was . . . outside. She felt the wave of sensation hit her, and in her mind it was like not only getting knocked over by a sudden swell of water but getting knocked clear out of the water and onto the beach at the same time. With a single touch, the Priapoid put Andreuola into a different state of mind. Her consciousness had been raised. She perceived the world differently.

The Priapoid touching her. The slick, super-smooth texture of his skin. The bulkhead before her. The taste of the air as it entered her lungs. The lights in the cylinder. Everything was so much more vivid, so much more there than before. It was as if she had been living with a filter over her senses her entire life, a blinder not only for her eyes but all her senses, narrowing her perceptions of the universe. For Andreuola, that was how it had been, and with the Priapoid Le’s exquisite touch, that blinder was suddenly and irretrievably stripped away. Her wonder was so total that it left the noblewoman without connection to anything else in her life. This, this sexual encounter that came next, this absolute fucking of her mind and soul, became the defining moment of her life. Everything else, her childhood, her education, her ruthless rise through the ladder of the aristocratic Thane bureaucracy, it had all led her to this experience. Everything else was overshadowed, and as she would soon clench down on Le’s penis riding inside her, the Thane aristocrat knew she must devote every bit of herself to that small but overwhelmingly critical task. It was, literally, her sole function in life.

She must please this creature, this Priapoid, Le, her master.

Nothing else approached the same level of importance. Nothing else could.

For all the effect he had on her, the Priapoid’s carnal use of Andreuola was neither unusual in style nor maneuver. It was even, seen objectively, rather mundane. The blue male Priapoid merely began to stroke his captive’s face. Despite her previous protestations, Andreuola immediately reached for him and began kissing his hairless chin and mouth. It was ambrosia, his skin. Its taste was extraordinary, his tongue in her mouth the definition of bliss. She did not—could not—fight. Instead, as he sat down on the bench, Andreuola climbed eagerly into his lap, stripped off her jumpsuit, and pressed her breasts into his soft chest. She wrapped her legs around his waist and felt his enormous hardness pressing into her belly. Where moments before she had been dry and uninterested in sex, the Thane noble was now wet and desperate for penetration.

“Please,” she whispered between her frantic kissing and licking. “Please, I need it.” He said nothing, only continued his gentle kisses and caresses.

Dominating her though he was, his manner was as subdued as a monk. In fact, in many ways, he was not taking her, she was taking him! A monstrous passion had consumed her. She couldn’t get enough!

Tenderly, the Priapoid pushed Andreuola off of him for a moment—she cried out in torment—turned her around, and then lowered her back onto his shaft. His penis entered her pussy from behind, and she gasped in disbelief and pleasure at the invading hardness. And so, in this fashion, he fucked her.

His movements were regular and, on the whole, uninspired. He thrust while squeezing Andreuola’s breasts, rubbing her abdomen, and otherwise making use of his soft, blue hands. He was quiet and delicate. His sexplay was, by any reasonable definition, unimaginative and unoriginal.

For her part, though, Andreuola bounced up and down and made enough noise for the both of them.

She made enough noise for ten couples like them.

“YES! OH MY ANCESTORS . . YES! YES!! YESSS!!!!”

Andreuola learned something about the Priapoids in that first use of her body. Before actually meeting them, she had visualized what they must look like. Perfect physical specimens, men with broad and muscular chests, women with sculpted bodies and perfect breasts, paragons of handsomeness and beauty. As for their skill in lovemaking, why, they would be—would have to be—masters of skills, techniques, and positions that would overwhelm the imagination. They would know secrets of sex. Their most inexperienced member would be capable of writing a tantric treatise to delight and inflame the already decadent minds of the Solarian elite, and what they would do among themselves would redefine the limits of dissolute behavior. The reality, of course, was much more mundane. The Priapoids were people, hence perhaps the name they gave themselves. They knew a lot about sex, of course, but what they knew was not hidden, not some arcane mystery of carnal magic passed down from generation to generation. When it came down to it, sex was sex, nothing more. There were only so many positions. There were only so many techniques. There were only so many skills one could know and utilize. As for their appearance, well, plainly put, the Priapoids were not as Andreuola had imagined.

Now, she knew, none of that mattered in the slightest.

The Priapoids were the absolute masters of sex they were reputed to be, but it was not on account of their physical prowess. It had nothing to do with physicality. In a way, they did know a great secret.

What was that mystery? Simply, that great sex takes place in the mind.

The genetic improvements the Priapoids had made to themselves over the centuries had had little to do with matters of appearance and stamina. These were, perhaps, afterthoughts. No, the real changes had taken place in that largest of sex organs, the brain, and in its foundation, the central nervous system.

When Priapoids had sex, what their bodies did was almost inconsequential. It was in their minds that the real sexplay took place, in the manipulation of one another’s nerve endings through direct neuro-stimulation, in the control they took of their partners’ gray matter. What was pleasure? A series of electrical impulses perceived by the brain, nothing more. As such, to achieve absolute pleasure, the pinnacle of pleasure, why waste time with multi-adaptive cocks, more heavily muscled or sensitive vaginas, or whatnot? Why not go directly to the source? Why not find a way to make the brain feel whatever amount of pleasure you wanted instead without any intervening instrumentality, aside from the physical joining, probably retained more for the sake of nostalgia than anything else?

Andreuola experienced absolute pleasure.

It was a life-changing experience.

“OH, PLEASE!! MORE! ANCESTORS, MORE . . MORE! . . MORE!!!”

Her body rocked, writhing on the blue Priapoid’s cock. He was more than inside her. He was inside her mind. He was inside her soul! She felt his cock in every component of her being, and he was fucking her, fucking her, fucking her, and it felt so good! She climaxed once, twice, a million times. Or perhaps it was only once. It didn’t matter. It had the cumulative effect of a million orgasms. In its wake, Andreuola felt her defiance for the lovely blue creature melt away.

She felt the Priapoid touch her brain. She could feel him looking out from her eyes, breathing with her lungs, riding the massive dick between her thighs. She felt him imprinting his persona onto her neural structure, filling her, lowering her resistance, adjusting her mind.

When he finally climaxed himself, and he slid her exhausted and sweaty form off of his member, it was a different Andreuola that fell panting to the cylinder floor.

I can still feel him, she thought, when she was capable of thought again. He’s still inside me. I can still feel him inside me. It was true.

In a way, he was still fucking her. He would always be fucking her.

She looked up at him in awe. He was her master.

There was no need for ceremony. No need for her acknowledgement of the fact.

It was what it was. He owned her. He owned her body and soul.

“Come along, dear,” the Priapoid said, standing, and Andreuola felt a “tug” inside her, an almost subliminal jolt of pleasure in hearing the creature speak. “Yes, master,” she said and walked after him.

She recognized the submissive timbre in her own voice, and she despised it, yet there was nothing she could do to stop it, nor halt the servile emotions now coursing through her.

She wanted to be had again.

She wanted to please her new Priapoid owner so that he would have her again, or, at the very least, direct his attention at her, with that warm pleasurable sensation that accompanied his favorable notice.

He had bonded her nervous system to his. She could feel it when he looked at her. When he breathed, she felt pleasure. Though she was taller than he was, she felt dwarfed by his presence.

Andreuola wanted—had—to remain in his good graces. She had to. It felt so good! It felt so wonderful! She felt pleasure in just hearing him give her a command. Soon, she knew, solely because of that, she would be conditioned to unthinking obedience. Even now, despite her desire to want to resist, to fight back with all her Thane strength, the thought that he might never come inside her again drained the rebelliousness from her.

She would do anything to have another Priapoid-induced orgasm. Anything! The notion scared her, filled her with dismay and anger . . . and a desire to see to her master’s slightest whim.

Le brought Andreuola through the Priapoid vessel and to a room with a sarcophagus-like machine open in the center. In his soft yet terribly compelling voice, he told the Venusian aristocrat to climb in.

Despite the deep-felt yearning she felt to obey him, knowing that she was risking his disfavor by delay, Andreuola nonetheless had to ask. “What . . what is it, master?” she said meekly.

She felt a lessening in her new owner’s positive awareness of her, an ever-so-slight reduction in the contentment she felt in his company, and she whimpered. But Le wasn’t angry. His voice was as melodious as ever. “It is a neowomb, my pet. A machine for reconfiguring our toys.”

He gestured at the room-sized apparatus, with its glittering vials, shiny tubes, and chemiprocessor relays all drawn toward the coffin-sized space in the center. “It will transform you, so that henceforward you will unmistakably appear to be what you now are, a Person’s toy.”

He smiled. It was the first visual show of emotion he had shown her. “Now, lie down inside the machine, please.”

“Yes, master,” Andreuola whispered, and, shuddering, obeyed. From her perspective on her back, she saw that the neowomb’s cavity had a matching hollow above it. They lined up perfectly. When the two plastioid pieces were pressed together, she would be totally enclosed within a black cube.

Things happened quickly. Le stood next to the machine and inserted his member inside a fleshy-looking hole in the side. It was a Priapoid coitus control. He thrust, and the upper half of the neowomb lowered down with a THUMP! Abruptly, Andreuola was in total darkness.

She cried out involuntarily. The walls of the cavity pressed in from all sides, with bare millimeters of room left to thrash about. Her heated breath brushed against the shell and reflected back upon her face.

The walls began to quiver like a small motor, and the motion vibrated throughout Andreuola’s skin and bones. As a child one winter, she found a piece of ice with an intact terraforming seed frozen inside. She took the novelty home to her patron. She now felt like that pod from so long ago, trapped like a preserved specimen. Her screams resounded loudly within the tiny space and deafened her.

Suddenly, what room she did have to wriggle in disappeared. What felt at first like a warm, pulpy liquid (Blood!? was her first panicked thought) filled the space and spread over her body. Almost immediately it hardened, and Andreuola was completely immobilized.

She couldn’t breathe! The liquid had run into her nose and mouth and solidified. She truly was little more now than a preserved specimen!

The analogy did not survive long. A curious warmth built around Andreuola’s feet, and, in a manner similar to running one’s naked arm through a beam of sunlight, feeling the ray on only a portion of her skin at a time, a band of heat ran over her legs and across her body. It passed end to end through her, disappearing only when it reached her forehead, leaving her encased skin tingling from the cascade. The tingling did not decrease afterwards. It increased, rather, building steadily until Andreuola felt that every part of her was vibrating, being shaken apart and reduced to a liquid state.

It was not painful, peculiarly, this apparent liquefaction. If anything, the warmth and vibration felt exceedingly pleasant. She tried to yell: for help? for release? in ecstasy? She didn’t know.

The feeling of being non-solid increased. Andreuola pictured herself a human-shaped volume of fluid, nothing solid, held in human shape only by the walls of the cavity itself. She did not know how accurate, if at all, this image was, but it reflected how she felt. Another wave of tingling heat passed over and through her, only this time the band of sensation started at her head and worked its way in reverse.

Andreuola felt the proportions of her close-fitting cell shift. The shape of the cavity changed, the walls melted, and Andreuola felt as if she were melting along with them. She was like molten metal poured into a mold, her form determined by the very dimensions of that into which she was emptied. Before she could explore this idea further, there was a short, abrupt blast of air and a sudden burst of light,

Suddenly she was free to move again.

The hinged upper half of the neowomb had lifted. Andreuola gasped in a delightful mouthful of air.

Yet, she felt . . . different.

“Stand, dear, and let me see you,” she heard Le say. Feeling joy along her nerves at his softly worded command, Andreuola complied. She stepped out of the neowomb cavity.

She immediately stumbled. Her sense of balance was off. She looked around curiously. Everything seemed bigger than before. She felt very different. Andreuola looked down at herself. She gasped.

““Wha . . what have you done to me?!”” she exclaimed, horrified, in a teeny-tiny voice. ““You’ve turned me into a freak!””

Le’s words were calming, soothing. “No. No, my pet. You are very pretty. You are now much more pleasing to me.”

More pleasing. The words echoed in Andreuola’s ears, relaxing her against her will. She was still appalled. The neowomb had utterly reworked her body. She turned her head from side to side in bewilderment. Long strands of brilliant green hair dangled in front of her face, and she trembled.

No, no, the former Thane lady thought. She stared endlessly at her radically enlarged bosom.

She stared because it was not her bosom that she saw. Those could not be her breasts hanging so heavily from her chest. These were huge breasts, enormous breasts, breasts easily eight or nine times! the size they had been before. They were now twice as big—bigger?—than her own head!

It was like having two inflatable beach balls attached to her!

Despite their size, though, the new breasts bounced perkily, massively, on her chest, filling Andreuola with a sense of awe and alarm. They were lovely, her new breasts, though gigantic. Their increased weight was unreal. The way they pulled at her shoulders felt both unfamiliar yet alarmingly wonderful. From now on, she would have to walk with her breasts pushed forward and out. She experimented. It was the only way she could move comfortably. Her areolas were in proportion to the new size, dark and beautiful and almost as large as her face. The nipples were evidently permanently engorged. They jutted forth like quivering digits. The brush of the air over them as she jiggled back and forth sent waves of sensation cascading through Andreuola’s body, warm and moist feelings which in moments had her new, plumper pussy mound, now hairless and deliciously sensitive, convulsing spasmodically.

Her thighs quivered. Her back arched involuntarily, adjusting to the augmented weight. She looked shyly at her owner. Le nodded, and Andreuola orgasmed on command, squeaking loudly her ecstasy.

She blinked. Squeaked her ecstasy.

Andreuola’s eyes widened upon hearing the peculiar noise. She tried to yell in her old voice, the voice of Thane command, but all that emerged was the same demeaning squeal.

““Master, what have you done to me?””

She tried to speak with authority, to say something, anything, like her old self, but it was impossible.

““I don’t like this, master!””

The new Andreuola sounded like nothing less than a high-pitched little girl.

“Come this way, pet,” Le said to her, and Andreuola was jolted out of her discontent. Her master’s voice: it was enough to pull her away from anything. They stepped into the next room. There was a mirror on one wall, and, begging permission—she, Andreuola, once a great Lady of the Thane, begged—went over to it. She squeaked again in apprehension. She was beautiful, but so very, very different.

In addition to her new ultra-voluptuousness, Andreuola now had emerald green hair and emerald green lips. Upon closer inspection, she saw that the color was not just a dye job. It was an alteration to the pigments themselves. Her skin was fairer, baby-fine. She was at least six centimeters shorter. She had lost weight, too, and muscle mass. The old Andreuola had had an athletic body, tone and bronzed. Her new form was much, much softer, with great swelling curves and a far less commanding presence.

Thankfully, though, it was still her face she saw in the mirror, yet, at the same time, not. The change was not subtle. Simply put, hers was no longer the face of a ruthless Thane. What she saw instead was the face of a vulnerable slavegirl.

Her owner handed her a bulbous, transparent helmet. “Put this on and step into the booth, please.”

Andreuola noticed the clear plastioid booth for the first time. It was about the same size as the neowomb cavity, only instead of lying horizontal, this was upright. She didn’t question this time; she just obeyed. Le closed the booth after her. Within a few seconds a green mist formed at the top.

What now? she wondered. She looked at Le through both helmet and booth. Her breath echoed in her ears, stricken. Her owner smiled at her, however, and the former Thane felt warm and reassured. Andreuola knew these feelings were artificial, solely a function of Priapoid neuro-conditioning, but she didn’t care. It felt good. The mist descended around her, filling the entire booth.

It clung to her in droplets, dampening her everywhere save above the neck where the helmet had sealed tight at her throat. The drops formed a veneer on her body that gleamed like massage oil, catching the lights as she moved and began to squirm, and Andreuola soon had to squirm and writhe helplessly.

The oily substance made her so slick and smooth it was impossible to keep her hands at her sides. She had to stroke herself. She had to rub her new and enormous breasts again and again. She had to run her fingers over the incredibly sensitive nipples, draw her hands over her smooth and glossy flanks, her stomach, and down to her moist and burning sex, rubbing, climaxing, Climaxing, Climaxing . . . !

The mist gradually disappeared, absorbed into her skin. When Andreuola could think again, she looked down and saw that her body below the helmet had turned a shiny green matching the shade of her newly colorized hair and lips. It was as if she were coated in a semi-transparent skinsuit, a thin, glossy bodystocking just transparent enough to scandalously show off and press tight her areolas, nipples, and pussy, now shaded emerald. It felt as if she were wearing a bodystocking, and for a moment Andreuola had the horrific notion that she was wearing a pleasure-drone slavesuit that would soon further transform her, this time into a mindless automaton. But no, no such transformation took place.

This skinsuit was something else, though similar. It was tight, ever so tight, and it made the former Thane feel more naked than naked. She was rendered snug and sexy in her new green bodystocking, firmer yet at the same time softer and suppler.

Again, unable not to, Andreuola ran her sheathed, glossy hands over her sheathed and glossy body.

The sensations were even greater than before. They were amplified by the constricted nature of her tight new bondage. She glistened like a recently sugar-dipped candy treat. Le opened the booth and invited the quivering girl out, lifting the helmet from her head and placing it in a nearby alcove.

“You are so beautiful, my toy. So beautiful.”

Andreuola noticed that the plastic texture and shine of her bodystocking was identical to the Priapoid’s natural flesh, the only difference being color. She was emerald green, he remained his polished light blue. He reached for her and caressed her massive bosom.

““Oh . . ohhh!!”” Andreuola exclaimed in her doll-like voice. Le’s fingers seemed to sink directly into her flesh, as if he were strumming the nerves themselves, inducing a mind-numbing pleasure even greater than what she had experienced before. It was the combination of her new second skin’s body-wide tightness and her owner’s electric touch. He stroked her, forcing her to bend back and squeezing her gigantic breasts, tickling the iron-hard nipples. The Venusian moaned in the deepest ecstasy.

““Ohhhhh! Please, more! Fill me, master! Fill me . . fuck me! Please, please fuck me! I need you inside me!””

Reaching round to clutch her now fleshier ass, the blue Priapoid picked Andreuola up and backed her against a wall. She folded her green-coated legs around his waist as he positioned her, and then, in a senses-exploding motion, he was inside her, she was holding onto him for dear life, and he was deep inside her, stroking the outside of her vaginal lips with his fingers.

Andreuola contracted around her master’s penis. Waves of the highest pleasure burst from her divinely penetrated womb, and as she writhed so helplessly in her rapture, Le spoke. Soft, modulated accent or not, at the moment, and forever after, to Andreuola it would be the voice of her god.

“Such a pretty and pleasing toy you are, my pet.” There was no exertion in his speech, no indication whatsoever that he was providing the deepest, most powerful fuck the former Thane had ever had. “Pretty and pleasing. That is all you are and all you will ever be from now on, and that will make you happy, happy and content to be a toy. All our toys are happy and content.”

““Yes, master! Yes . . yes . . YES!!”” Happy and content. She was happy and content to be a Priapoid toy!

“But your name has to change,” he went on. “‘Andreuola’ is a too fine a name for such a pretty bauble as you have become. It needs to change.” The blue Priapoid considered the matter as the green-suited slavegirl squirmed helplessly on his shaft. His expression was placidly thoughtful.

“The best changes are the simplest ones. Your name is now Uola. You are now Uola, my pet. Uola.” He might as well have peeled the top of her head off and written the command into her brain for the effect his words had. The girl he was fucking felt the injunction to the root of her very soul.

““I’m Uola, master!”” she cried out in her submissive bliss, in servile happiness. ““I am Uola! Oh, yes! More! More, please, my master! Please! Fuck Uola! Fuck her! Fuck me!””

The Priapoid took his time with Uola, imprinting the new identity and other basic commands into her nervous system. By the time he lowered her to the floor, a spent and blissed slave, Lady Andreuola was a memory. Uola knew who she had been, remembered everything about her old life, yet it no longer meant anything to her. She was a slave and happy to remain a slave, forever, so long as she kept being used like that. Le left her on the floor. She didn’t mind at all. She had fulfilled her purpose.

She wondered if every time her master used her she would be changed by him, if every time he caused her brain to feel such pleasure, another portion of himself would imprint upon her psyche. What they must do to one another! the new slave thought, shivering. No wonder they were always touching!

After a timeless interval, another lovely Priapoid toy in a body-hugging suit came in to help Uola.

He was male, this slave, quite obviously so with his neowomb-enhanced genitalia. His hair, lips, and the skin-tight coating beginning at his throat were a bright candy pink. He smiled at the former Thane.

““Hello. My name is Nepa. I belong to Fa, the orange female.”” His enormous penis twitched.

““He . . hello,”” Uola said timidly. ““I’m . . Uola. I belong to . . Le, the blue male.””

““It’s a pleasure.”” He extended a hand and helped her up. He looked over Uola and made a tisk-tisk sound with his tongue. He too spoke like a tiny doll. ““We’ll have to bind your hair back. The Persons prefer ponytails.”” He started making the adjustments. His pink-coated hands felt good in her hair.

““O . . okay,““” Uola said. She bit her lip. ““How long have you . . ?””

““Been a toy? My entire life. My parents sold me, though I wasn’t claimed until I was mature. The Persons don’t practice pederasty.”” He puffed his chest out. ““I’m the chief toy on board. I pilot the ship.””

““That’s nice,”” Uola said, and she meant it. Not so long ago, she would have considered this man nothing, his obviously prideful position a joke. Now, they were equals in every way, and she felt it to the marrow in her bones. She wanted him to like her. She wanted all her fellow toys to like her. If she was kind to them, maybe they would give her advice on how to please her master Le more, and he would give her even greater orgasms! Nepa tied Uola’s hair back in a thick green braid.

““When we’re not being used by our owners, and we’re not serving them in other ways, we get to play with each other.”” He stood back. ““You have beautiful tits, Uola, if you don’t mind me saying. I would very much like to mount you.””

The thought of copulating with her fellow toy was exciting.

““I . . I’d like that too.”” She paused. ““Will we get to take off our bodysuits then?””

He laughed politely. ““Our suits never come off, Uola. They’re bonded permanently to our skin. Like a pleasure drone’s slavesuit, they absorb all waste products and intake ambient energy directly. I haven’t used my tongue for anything other than speaking and licking out my owner in years! But come . . . we have to go.””

Hand in hand, he led Uola out of the booth-room (My suit never comes off? Uola thought, and she wasn’t sure whether the idea didn’t make her even more excited) and through the Priapoid vessel to a circular room. Lined against the smooth, unadorned walls were a dozen plastic-encoated toys, males and females, their hair and lips matching the shimmering shades of their transparent bodysuits.

All the toys, Uola saw, had bright ponytails like hers. She was glad Nepa had helped her. She didn’t want to stick out. Nepa told her to stand against the wall and be quiet, so she did. A few minutes later, the orange and ivory female Priapoids entered from separate entrances, followed soon after by Uola’s owner, Le. He glanced at her in passing, and Uola felt his neuro-electric attention in her body all over, shiveringly. Her nipples tightened beneath their tight wrapping, enhancing the erotic sensation.

The three Priapoids came together in a circle and, as one, reached out to hold hands, as small children might. There was a scandalous innocence to their gesture. Uola shivered. The three of them were so calm. Their smooth, multihued faces were so serene, not an iota of emotion was perceptible. Although she was not drawn to them in the same way as she was to her owner, Uola couldn’t help but feel a strong and healthy sexual attraction for the two Priapoid females standing there as well.

I’m a toy, Uola thought, and for the first time, she felt pride in this fact rather than embarrassment.

“My companion Ri is dead,” the orange female, Fa, said. Although there was no further word, Uola could feel the surge of sorrow in the room. She felt it herself, and she had never even seen this particular Priapoid! She could only imagine what his toys were experiencing. She glanced round. Half of the females along the walls were openly sobbing. The three Priapoids stroked one another gently.

“We have decisions to make,” Fa finally said. “Yes,” Uola’s master said, followed a moment later by the other female also saying, “Yes.” Their voices were cool and composed, utterly without inflection, as if what they were saying had already been written and they were simply mouthing the words.

They continued to speak, one after the other without pause, in a relaxed rhythm.

“Citizen Kul shall remain bound to me,” Fa said. “He shall never achieve satisfaction again.”

“The Soldiers will be transformed into pleasure drones,” Le said. “We shall then have four to sell.” He turned his face placidly to his mate, the ivory Priapoid.

“The Dreys will be set free on Titan when next we visit that port.”

The orange Priapoid now turned her head. “I am curious, Co,” she asked. “Are not the Venusian slaves conditioned to obedience and timidity?”

The ivory female’s reply was unruffled.

“If any can summon the strength to live their own lives, they will have ample opportunities to do so on Titan. If not, they will find no dearth of masters there.”

“It is fair,” Uola’s master said, and she shuddered. A moment later the other female agreed as well.

“Payment has already been accepted for Lady Matrieylla. That leaves only the Lady Dueynna.”

“Shall you make her a toy like the other one?” Co asked her companion.

Uola suddenly felt a surge of jealousy at the notion.

“No,” Le said. “I am content with my acquisition.” Uola smiled. “It is unfortunate Ri is dead. He might have enjoyed her.”

“Yes, he would have,” Fa said, once companion to that individual. Her voice was nonchalant, though Uola suspected she actually was in pain. Rumor had it that despite their profligacy, Priapoids mated for life. “Thane females have a reputation for arrogance and cruelty. There would be many markets for one that has been instructed in passion and submission.”

Is that what’s been done to me? Uola thought standing at the wall with her fellow toys. Have I been instructed in passion and submission? She answered herself. Yes, I suppose I have.

Her nipples tightened.

“Selling Lady Dueynna would be a waste,” Le said, and the others in turn replied. “Yes.” “Yes.”

“She is a fine specimen,” the orange Priapoid added. “Her genetic potential is rich,” the ivory female put in. The three of them nodded as one. “Then it is agreed,” Le said.

“Yes.” “Yes.” They released hands.

“We shall experiment with the Lady Dueynna,” Le said. “A work of art we shall make of her mind and body.” The sheer calm of her owner’s words sent a chill through Uola’s spine.

An experiment, he said. As if what the Priapoids had turned her into was considered normal in their eyes.

Oh, Dueynna, Uola thought uncomfortably of her former partner and equal.

What do these beautiful monsters have in mind for you?

. . . to be continued