TETHER
by trilby else (trilelse@mail.anonymizer.com)
* * *Wanted to write another robot scene.
77.
Everyone but Mistress was naked.
Meredith didn’t remember leaving the dining room, or undressing. Her girlfriend, her mother, and Clare stood in a row. They seemed both alert, and deeply asleep. She sensed she was a little more aware than they.
Mmm. Mistress wanted to use her.
“Your mother seems completely receptive to my control.” Mistress spoke casually. “Do you agree, slave?”
Meredith considered what her mother had shared with her since submitting to Mistress’ hypnosis. Withholding any of it from Mistress was not even the shadow of an idea.
“Yes, Mistress. She accepts your dominance and enjoys it. She is already conditioning herself emotionally.”
Frances stood quietly in trance as her daughter assessed her. Arousal hit Meredith more intensely now than in the gym, when she’d revealed her mother’s weaknesses to the Instructress. “She wants to trust you. She is also sexually addicting herself to obeying you.”
In the gym—the first time—her mother had begged her not to. Now she waited passively, one of a trio of nude and receptive subjects, and after Mistress’ hypnosis she would not even think of objecting.
“So—you think she’s really becoming my slave?”
Meredith considered. “Mother has not been under your influence as long as I have, Mistress. She is not completely devoted to obeying your will, although she thinks she is. She may still believe some things are more important than obeying you.”
“Would she do anything I commanded her to, slave?”
“I do not know, Mistress.” Meredith thought of her mother, dreaming of her vampire lover. “I think she would want to.”
“Close.” Mistress laughed low and wonderfully. “I’m beginning to see where your inner slavegirl comes from. But she’s not close enough, yet. Soft, but not yet melted. Her brain needs a bit more washing.
“Look at me, slave.”
When Meredith obeyed, Mistress was smiling at her, with satisfaction Meredith could feel on her skin. “I am very pleased with you, slave. Masturbate to orgasm now, slowly. Then, you will sleep again.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Meredith began stroking herself. Her pussy yearned to be strummed harder, but Mistress’ command leashed Meredith to a slow touch. She wanted to weep with gratitude for the chance to bend to the command and deny herself, but even that was pleasure.
Mistress didn’t look at her. Instead she raised her hands to Meredith’s mother and held her head, staring into her eyes and beginning to instruct her in a low voice. On either side of her, Leslie and Clare slept on.
As words slowly blurred in Meredith’s softening mind, she heard Mistress tell Frances she was Dr Stevens, the brilliant cyberneticist. When Dr Stevens awakened, she would be in her famous secret laboratory, hard at work on her infamous experiments to turn human subjects into robotic slaves.
“You will believe you can control your victims completely,” Mistress whispered. Frances’ head floated between her hands as she accepted this truth, too willstripped now even to nod.
“I . . . will . . . believe . . .”
“Yes, Doctor.” Mistress lowered one hand to Frances’ pussy. “When you awaken, you will think you can destroy their wills with your evil robotizer and convert them into slaves.”
She stroked. Frances mewed and didn’t look away.
“Con . . . vert . . . them . . .”
“Helpless obedient little slaves, Doctor. Yes.” Mistress grinned as Frances winced in ecstasy at the next touch.
“Hhhhh . . . yessss . . . ssslaaaavesss . . .”
“You will believe you can program them to do anything you want them to.”
“They cannot resist you. You can make them want it.”
Meredith saw her mother’s eyes glazing over.
“No inhibitions, Dr Stevens,” Mistress purred. “They can’t say no. And you don’t want to.”
“You will know this is a game, my dear. And remember what sort of person wants to play it. But that will only make it better. Easier to want. Harder to stop.”
“Harrrrderrr . . . t . . . t . . . toooo . . . nnnn . . . s-s-s-stop . . . nnnnnnn . . . ohhh?”
Meredith watched her mother buck and whinny softly and keep looking into Mistress’ eyes.
Then, still far from her own climax, Meredith stopped being able to see or hear. She knew her hypnotist was there, and that someone dear to her was also falling deeper under her power. They became erotic shapes that stroked her like more fingertips as she slid further into the erotic trance where Mistress wanted her . . .
. . . Meredith drifted in the afterglow. Mistress’ whisper roared softly in her head like a warm wind, and she knew she would awaken with the thoughts she needed to think. The others were there, asleep and programmed. Now they all began to work with dull purpose, setting up the props and laying out costumes. Meredith’s mind fetched up against a memory of buying these things online between sessions serving Mistress, as a list unspooled in her head.
The memory faded. It made her wet to know they all toiled silently. Her mother and Leslie stared through each other as they moved a table. None of them would remember this.
That faded too.
Soon her mind went back to sleep. Her body kept working alongside Leslie and the others.
Meredith opened her eyes.
She stood in her suite, except she knew these rooms were really Dr Stevens’ sinister laboratory, where her mother pursued her experiments and her insane plan to turn the human race into obedient robots.
Oh god! The experiments! The insane plan! She’d begged her mother to stop, but her mother had only laughed. She had to act now, before it was too late, before—
But she couldn’t move at all.
Someone walked into her field of vision, stopped in front of her, and swiveled to face her as though on a hinge. Leslie.
Leslie was a fetish vision in silver.
She stood rigidly, in an outlandish costume that reached through Meredith’s scripted fear with weird, intense arousal. Her nipples were peaks in relief inside a tight halter top, and her minimal hotpants looked painted on in the same smooth metallic sheen. Her slender thighs rose out of silver calf boots, and by her hips her stiffly-bladed hands were in skintight opera gloves, something thickening the left one to make it almost a gauntlet. Its asymmetry only made Leslie more of an object.
She was collared. A swimcap swathed her head, framing her face and making it look even blanker, and more innocent. A little dome surmounted it like a crest. There was a headset fitted inside it—Meredith could see the small bulges over Leslie’s ears, and the slim mouthpiece curved out in front of her lips.
Her silver lips. Leslie’s elaborate eyeshadow was the same metallic gloss, set off by mascara, and played out around her eyes like a steel domino mask. Her closed eyelids looked like metal cups.
Meredith wished this were real, and that she could have watched Leslie being reduced to this gilded toy. It was a nasty feeling, and she cherished it. Her paralysis let her do nothing but stand and savor how her girlfriend stood, mechanized and asleep.
There was a beep, and the silvered eyes slid open.
Leslie’s eyes weren’t silver, but they were glassy and blank as they stared through Meredith, not knowing her. Meredith wondered if Leslie was deeper than she was, too deep to remember she was just playing a robogirl.
But the eyes saw her. “Vic.tim a.wake.” Leslie’s alto monotone was horribly sweet, and flawless.
“Oh my god—Leslie!” Meredith vented her arousal in the cry. “What did she . . . do to you?”
Leslie didn’t blink. “Post.hyp.no.tic sug.ges.tion in con.trol. Vic.tim im.mo.bi.lized.”
“Of course she is,” Dr Stevens purred as she stepped into view. Her short white labcoat was open over tiny black lace panties and bra, and wafted attractively around her thighs as she moved. Her hair was swept up and she peered through steel-rimmed glasses at her daughter.
“You’re under hypnotic bodylock now, dear. I can keep you still, or move you. I could make you recite dirty limericks, or remove these”—she stroked Leslie’s hotpants right at the camel toe, but Leslie held still—“and kiss there all night, and you’d do it, helplessly. Some people might even consider that ‘mind control’ by itself, but they just lack imagination.
“And Lesbot doesn’t need girlsex to obey me. She can’t do anything else anymore.”
“Mother! You’re insane! What have you done to Leslie?” She managed a sob, as the desire throbbed between her thighs to be stiffened, fetishized Leslie. “You . . . you robotized her, didn’t you? You destroyed her will to make her obey you? That fucking robotizer?”
Dr Stevens smiled at her. “Even if I didn’t have a line into your head, Meredith, I’d know what your next argument would be. All that nonsense about ‘free will’ and ‘autonomy.’ As if that’s ever accomplished anything but bring the human species to the brink of self-extinction!”
Her eyes blazed and she gestured, sweeping the lab coat for an alluring glimpse of soft skin. “But I—I can break that cycle! With my irresistible robotizer, I can bring everyone to the same state of complete obedience! No more selfishness, or violence, or fear! I can program everyone to be happy, productive, truthful, and docile.”
There was the slightest shift in her smile. “Well—that’s what I’ll tell them to get them to enter the robotizers. And once they’re converted it won’t matter.”
Even in trance, her mother’s almost reptilian coldness made Meredith feel strange. But she knew her mother was under Mistress’ spell, so this was how Mistress wanted her to be.
“You’re a monster,” she whispered. Being so helpless in that monster’s clutches would have made her squirm, if she could move.
“You won’t be able to think so much longer, dear. You’ll worship me.”
Meredith pouted heroically. “I’ll—never forget Leslie. She’s . . . Mother . . . look what you’ve done to her.”
Her mother posed languidly beside the statue-like girl, brushing a fingertip across a nipple straining under metallic spandex, moving another through Leslie’s frozen gaze.
“Well, yes.” She caressed Leslie’s bare shoulder. “Leslie resisted bravely. A little too bravely—it burned out her mind. She’s still useful, but limited. And I learned a lot from converting her.”
She looked earnestly at Meredith. “I may be a mad scientist, dear, but I’m not callous.
“Thanks to Lesbot, your robotization won’t destroy your mind—just realign it forever!”
She shrugged. “And, well, if you do get mindwiped, you’ll become a really obedient daughter. You just won’t ever be able to initiate a thought or action for yourself.
“Until I get the instruction driver installed, anyway.”
“Mother!” Meredith was too excited to do more than squeak.
From one pocket of the labcoat, Dr Stevens took a cellphone, frowned, and reached into another for a remote. Meredith heard another beep.
“There, dear. Now you can move your eyes, too. Look to your left.”
Meredith obeyed, and found a mirror. She’d been dressed and painted into another fetish robot like Leslie. Now she felt the spandex grip her head, her breasts, her crotch.
She looked into her own silver-painted face, framed by the shining cap. Her pussy clenched.
“I’ll miss our debates, dear. You were rather tiresome, but I’m proud of how resolutely you defended all that foolishness. And so cleverly!
“Oh, I do hope you stay clever, but who knows. After this, though, when you think at all, it will only be to accept anything I’ve told you, until I tell you something else.
“You’ll never feel doubt again, Meredith.”
“Please, Mother! Not my will! Please!”
“You won’t need it, dear.” Her mother kissed her cheek. “Once you’re programmable, you’ll always know what you must do.”
78.
“No, Mother,” Meredith whispered. “I’ll resist it. I’ll fight you. I’ll stay free—or—or—I’ll make you burn out my mind like . . . like . . . Leslie . . .” Her tears felt real, too. That didn’t dampen her arousal at all.
Her mother kissed them away. “Oh, Meredith. We both know you’re not the fighter Leslie is. Well, was. You’re much weaker. You’ll surrender to it quickly and obey only me.
“Do you even remember being prepared?” She stroked Meredith’s bra and inspected her makeup. Then she shook her head as Meredith gaped at her. “So weak. This morning when you came to argue again, I entranced you. I’ve trained you for years to let me hypnotize you and then forget, Meredith. By now you can’t resist anything. It kept you well-behaved while Lesbot tarted you up.
“If I can make you submit to that, Meredith, you’re a perfect specimen for robo-enslavement.” She stroked Meredith’s cheek. “Free will had an eager champion, but a very susceptible one.”
Dr Stevens kissed her daughter again. “Never mind, dear. In a few moments you’ll be in complete agreement with me, forever. You will be proud of me, and of your role in my achievement.”
Meredith stared at her reflection, then at Lesbot, wide-eyed and awaiting command.
“Never!”
Her mother stepped behind her. “You’ll just love your role in my Insane Master Plan, dear. After I reprogram you to believe only in its truth.”
There was a warbling in her ears, and her mother’s fingertips at her hip turning on her cellphone.
“One of the things Lesbot helped me learn,” said the voice from the headset, “is that resistance causes damage. If a girl fights her conversion, she reduces her functionality. It works so much better if she’s already relaxed and obedient when the robotizer evaporates her mind.”
There was a beep. Meredith watched Leslie’s left arm rise stiffly to horizontal. Leslie didn’t move otherwise.
“I could have left you under hypnosis, but then we’d never have had this chat! More importantly, I need to calibrate your activation with a standardized trance. Then your obedience can begin smoothly.
“Lesbot. Hypnotize her.”
“Hyp.no.tize,” Leslie droned, turning her extended arm so the glove’s thick part was on top. “Hyp.no.tize.” As she made a fist she pointed it at Meredith.
“Hyp.no.tize.”
The glove started strobing.
“Hyp.no.tize. Hyp.no.tize . . .”
“No! No! No!” Meredith screamed, staring avidly at the flashes that caressed her brain. As she remembered she must, she lapsed right away into quiet moaning. When the flashing stopped and Lesbot’s arm lowered, Meredith was moving her lips slowly and staring through the dazzle at what she could make out of the robotic girl.
“Vic.tim hyp.no.tized.” Lesbot’s voice was a beautiful, dead bell. “Re.sis.tance des.troyed. Vic.tim will now o.bey.”
“Yes. Good. Now we can think correctly, and obey our Controller, can’t we?”
“I . . . yes . . . think . . . correctly . . .” Meredith whispered it like a secret to the moveless robogirl. “Obey . . . now . . .”
The moveless robogirl didn’t react.
“Good, slave. Now that you are obedient, you will put yourself into the conversion chamber.” There was a tone.
Meredith rotated until she saw a gleaming framework under a canopy, like a parody of a wedding bower. The canopy’s underside was thick with lights and other devices, all focused at where the head would be of someone standing beneath it. A downward spotlight inside it made the circle where that victim would be. Chains and manacles hung from the framework to secure that victim there—Dr Stevens had planned for resistant victims who might try to escape their fate—but they were neatly stowed now.
Dr Stevens’ hypnotized daughter would not try to escape.
Even knowing it was playacting, Meredith shivered with dreadful pleasure.
As if it were a last collapsing moment of resistance, she murmured “I . . . will obey.” Then she walked to the chamber. She wasn’t a robot yet, so instead of a jerkily mechanical gait, she sleepwalked.
It was like being a magician’s assistant, obeying dreamily, but there was no magician to lead her along with menacing courtesy—only the voice in her ears. She held pose as she stepped precisely to the spotlit circle and then faced outward.
For the first time Meredith could see her mother’s work area. Somehow an impressive array of controls and machines had been installed. Meredith knew they’d all been hypnotized to see and believe in it; some of it might not even really be there except in their minds. It aroused her to be so easy to fool.
She wondered who’d done the heavy lifting.
The wall of video seemed real, anyway. Which of them had sat in trance on the phone or computer and ordered all that? One screen showed the work area itself—there must be a minicam on her swimcap. Frances would see whatever her robot-girl looked at.
Whatever she told her robot-girl to look at.
The chamber’s machinery loomed over her head, and for a strange moment her heart faltered. But then her trance and Mistress’ hypnotic script reclaimed her, and she enjoyed the role. She was the defeated heroine, hypnotized and doomed, facing her crazed mother’s implacable device.
The lights began to flash came on, brightening and dimming in syncopated rhythms. Something fed more beeping into her ears, with electronic noise behind it. Its volume started to pulse, too, in synch with the lights. It would have hypnotized her if she weren’t already so . . . so . . .
She was being activated.
She was too hypnotized to resist.
If only it were real . . .
Meredith climaxed shallowly as she surrendered to it, and came again as she remembered playing Leslie’s robot, before. It was melting her pussy to have an audience this time. To have her mother see her in robot drag, watch her be a slave, join this deliciously kinky game.
Play her brainwasher in it.
“Begin function.”
Instead of crumpling in orgasm, Meredith jerked stiff.
Beautifully disheveled, posed amid her devices, Dr Stevens smiled triumphantly. She touched a control and put a tone in Meredith’s ear.
She knew her cue. “Me.re.bot au.to.di.ag.nos.tic com.plete.” Hearing herself chant it made her wet under the silver. “Girl mind off.line. Girl will.pow.er neu.tra.lized. Girl brain now res.ponds on.ly to ex.ter.nal con.trol.”
Arousal kept her voice steady and soulless. “Ro.bot in.doc.tri.na.tion des.troyed all re.sis.tance to com.mands. Ro.bo.ti.za.tion com.ple.ted.”
“Merebot. Verify primary program.”
“Me.re.bot o.beys. Pri.ma.ry pro.gram: ab.so.lute o.be.di.ence to Con.trol.ler.”
“Let’s test you, Merebot. Advance two paces.”
“Me.re.bot o.beys.” Keeping her hands by her sides, Meredith almost goose-stepped out of the chamber and halted.
“Traverse left, oh, 45 degrees.”
“Me.re.bot o.beys.” Meredith rotated her head, savoring how minor and meaningless it was. It turned her stare to Leslie, who stared back, neither triumphant nor sad. Again she wondered how deeply her lover had been hypnotized for this.
Meredith wished she were that hypnotized. But it was erotic just to be aware she was doing this.
She stood erect with her head locked to the side until she was told to do something else.
“Default.” Smoothly forward again, to her mother.
“Brilliant achievement, Dr Stevens!” Mistress came into view. “Your own daughter is now a mindlessly obedient drone. But I saw an interview where she condemned your experiments. Did you—?”
“That’s how brilliant I am, Alice.” Frances laughed.
“Merebot. Access file newtruth.hyp and playback now.”
“Me.re.bot o.beys.” Meredith swallowed a whimper. Then she forced herself to sound human. “Hello . . . Ms Holloway.
“I was Meredith Stevens.
“I used to have some silly ideas about free will and morality, but my mother has helped me to forget them!” The headphones had not told her to look at Ms Holloway, so she kept staring into her girlfriend’s glassy eyes as she recited.
“My mother is now my Controller.
“I see now that her plan to robotize all humankind is perfect and beautiful!
“I barely remember opposing it.
“I only know that because my Controller says I did, and what she says is Truth!
“Now that she has cured me of thinking for myself, she is helping me forget that I ever had any thoughts she disapproved of.
“I am thrilled and honored to be part of her plan!
“I volunteered at once to become one of her robot slaves.
“I feel very happy that she converted me to Merebot!
“I am Merebot now.”
She closed her mouth and awaited the next order. She wondered how Leslie felt. Maybe hearing her brainwashed spiel was turning her girlfriend on, down in her trance, like the rush it had given Meredith to see her.
“There,” her mother said. “She didn’t even have to be indoctrinated to believe that—it’s just how she’s programmed. Instead of ‘thinking,’ all she can do is download truths from the program in her brain, when it tells her to.”
“The consortium will fund your world-domination plot after all, Doctor.” Mistress stroked Meredith’s belly just above the shiny hotpants. “And the business plan was flawless, I must say. But I’d like to see a field test.”
She patted Meredith’s ass. “Some obedience in action.”
“Coming up, Alice.” Frances puttered at her control panel. “She’ll do whatever I program her to.”
“Merebot. Excursion mode. Patrol this wing, staying on this floor.”
“Me.re.bot o.beys.”
Oh. God. She was going to parade around the house like this. The staff would see her strutting around like a futuristic mime, and listen to her ro.bot.speak. And her mother could watch them stare at her, or laugh, on the minicam—if she commanded Meredith to swivel her head. Meredith’s pussy was on fire.
She turned left and stepped stiffly forward, almost walking into Lesbot. She snapped left again, close enough to brush the other robot’s silvery breast with her arm. Then she stalked to the door of her suite. Like a mime, she broke her movements into separate parts, as if Merebot’s task buffer only had room for single actions.
She opened the door, paused, stepped through, paused, and closed it. She was facing the corridor wall as she came to attention, loving the pointlessness. She pivoted to face outward, to begin her patrol of the floor, as programmed.
79.
There was no one around. She wondered if keeping staff away was part of the game.
Part of her was relieved. But most of her wanted to be told to stalk downstairs, walk outside. March past the security people. Let the sun glare off her silver and make this even more real.
For the first few steps she just savored the buzz. This felt so much different than the last time, playing robot with just Leslie—more real. Daylight shone through the windows. Mincing in the high-heeled boots was stranger and hotter than padding around barefoot. Where the metallic lycra wasn’t gripping her, she was naked to the air. And feeling how taut her body was made her step a little more stiffly, hold her flattened hands a little more rigidly by her hips as she went.
“Halt.”
She brought her feet together, staring forward. “Me.re.bot o.beys.”
“Scan the, ah, area.” She heard her mother’s voice wobble.
“Me.re.bot o.beys.” She slowly turned her head left, then panned right, keeping her body still. She looked forward again.
“Scan com.ple.ted.”
“Is there anyone there?”
Meredith squirmed to think of being seen, and wanted it.
“Ne.ga.tive.” oh god yes
“Resume.”
“Me.re.bot o.beys.”
Her mother walked her through the unoccupied rooms, getting used to the novelty of being her daughter’s puppeteer. She whispered breathlessly to Mistress, and Meredith realized there were minicams in these rooms, too. Her mother could watch Meredith pose and strut as she obeyed.
Relaxing in her stiffness, Meredith opened herself to doing only what she was told, and seeing her home as might a stranger. A mindwiped robot girl to whom none of it meant anything. She was her mother’s remote-control toy, picking things up and looking around on command.
She found herself standing still, holding a vase at her waist but still staring above it at the shelf she’d been instructed to take it from. There were no commands in the headphones, only silence.
Then she heard her mother’s breathing, and another sound. She’d stepped away for something to drink and left Meredith blank.
Frances had done that when she’d had Meredith near a mirror. The minicam let Frances watch the reflection of her daughter waiting, without any will to move until she was told. Meredith savored it and sensed her mother doing the same. Breathing into the mike at her lips was all the plea and thanks she could manage.
But a toy robot is more fun to move, and her mother’s voice had her raising the vase for inspection. Then she was walked out of that room.
Then Meredith froze. She heard her mother gasp in her ears. Robot-attention became a refuge.
One of the staff was in the hallway.
The twentysomething man had a goatee and a nervous smile that jammed on his face when Meredith stalked into view in her getup. She was so shocked and aroused to be seen that she’d completely forgotten his name.
Seeing someone else triggered another posthypnotic suggestion, and obeying it swept over her like flicking her clit too soon.
“Hu.man de.tec.ted.” Not blinking, she evaded his gaze by staring through it.
“I—uh—ww—” He stared. He twitched, about to run away, but then became as still as she.
“Hello, Walt.” Yes. Her mother was in control, and enjoying her daughter’s display.
“Hel.lo Walt.” She repeated it in robospeak without thinking, and saw his eyes widen even more. He was looking at her silver outfit and all it showed of her, helpless to stop.
“H—” He was recovering, and under the surprise and pleasure there was worry. Some things the help was not supposed to see, and he noticed the minicam on her head . . .
“You’re playing a sex game. Your girlfriend’s making you do it.” A hungry laugh. “You’re her windup toy.”
Keeping her eyes wide, she looked between his. “I am play.ing a sex game. My girl.friend is ma.king me do it. I am her wind.up toy.”
“Don’t worry. Everything is fine.”
“Do not wor.ry. E.ve.ry.thing is fine.”
Walt managed a sickly smile and a gallant bow, and headed away, out of this wing of the house.
Meredith stood in the hallway, staring at where he’d been, her skin hot where it had been cool before. Like a good robot, she did nothing else.
“Resume.”
“Me.re.bot o.beys.” Both of them were a little breathless. She began to walk again.
In the next room, someone gasped. Meredith rotated, to find Clare.
“Hu.man de.tec.ted.” Clare was lovely in full French-maid drag, legs shapely in fishnets under the pleated flare of her miniskirt.
“Miss—Miss Meredith?” Clare’s voice was soft, convincingly shocked. She was dressed as the fantasy maid, but she sounded normal—which made it hotter.
“In.va.lid de.sig.na.tor.”
Clare started at her tone. The script the maid had been hypnotized into remembering seemed to include real surprise that the daughter of the house was a clockwork doll.
“’Me.re.dith’ has been ro.bo.tized. There is on.ly Me.re.bot.”
“Me-reh . . . bot? Robo—” Clare clutched the featherduster. “Miss—the Doctor’s experiments—oh my god—”
“Merebot. Access recruiting program. Active configuration.”
“Me.re.bot o.beys.” She stared at Clare, who stared back, shaking her head in horror. She remembered the other game’s if-only. Leslie had controlled her into letting Clare escape. “Sub.ject fe.male pre.vi.ous.ly in.dexed for re.cruit.ment.”
“Oh, really?” Her mother giggled delightedly.
“Miss Meredith—can you still remember me?” Clare looked sincerely upset. “Is there any of you—left, in there? Oh please god, answer me!”
“Merebot. Download file.”
“Me.re.bot o.beys.” Her own hypnosis made it easy to remember. “Sub.ject fe.male deep.ly sub.mis.sive.”
Clare twitched and then glared. “I am not! I—”
“Sub.ject fe.male high.ly sug.ges.ti.ble. In.tel.li.gence a.de.quate for pro.gram re.ten.tion and o.be.di.ence.” She held Clare’s eyes. “Sex.u.al.ly re.cep.tive. Will res.pond well to cap.ture and brain.wash.” She didn’t move. She just watched Clare squirm fetchingly to hear the description.
“Excellent.” Her mother’s chuckle was credibly sinister. “Bring the girl at once, to be—converted.”
“Me.re.bot o.beys. Sub.ject fe.male re.de.sig.na.ted: vic.tim.”
She focused on Clare. “Ac.com.pa.ny this ro.bot. You are to be ro.bo.tized.”
“Robotized? No! You won’t do that to me!” Even as she started edging away, Clare couldn’t look away from the silvery girl she’d known. “Fight it, Meredith! You resisted her evil plans for so long! You’re stronger than the robotizer! You—” she sobbed prettily “—you don’t want to robotize me!”
Rotating to keep facing Clare, Meredith started stalking her, one step before the other.
“Me.re.dith was ro.bo.tized. She no lon.ger ex.ists. You will al.so be ro.bo.tized. You will o.bey.”
Clare held the featherduster like a weapon. “You don’t want to enslave me, Meredith. I know you don’t.” She said it sadly, desperately.
“In.cor.rect. Me.re.bot is pro.grammed for ab.so.lute o.be.di.ence.”
Clare winced, and it broke her fixation on Meredith.
“Plea.sure feed.back . . . o.ver.whel.ming.” Meredith kept advancing.
“Me.re.bot is not pro.grammed to want.
“But it will or.ga.sm when you are ro.bo.tized.”
Clare screamed. She’d reached a table with a phone extension and she groped for it blindly, still transfixed by Meredith.
Meredith didn’t move faster. She just stalked the victim until told to do otherwise.
“Merebot.” Frances tried to sound bored, but she was panting. “Hypnotize her.”
80.
“Hyp.no.tize.” Droning it almost made Meredith come. She raised her left arm while her right stayed stiff by her side. Her trance reminded her of the control button snugged into the glove’s palm.
“Hyp.no.tize.” She pointed her fist at the maid.
“No! Don’t! Meredith!”
“Hyp.no.tize.” Meredith pressed the button. The glove started strobing. Clare screamed again, but didn’t look away.
“Hyp.no.tize. Hyp.no.tize . . .” In the headphones, her mother moaned.
“No! No . . . nnnn . . .” Clare stiffened and stared into the flashes. She fought to turn away but the struggle faded quickly. The featherduster slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor. The phone receiver fell heavily on the table as Clare’s empty hands floated down to her sides, pressing into the flared skirt.
Her mouth moved dreamily, but the dialtone was louder than whatever sounds she could make now. She stared into the strobe and was still.
Meredith released the button and brought her arm down.
“Vic.tim hyp.no.tized,” she droned into the mike. “Re.sis.tance des.troyed. Vic.tim will now o.bey.”
Slowly, Clare nodded. “I . . . will . . . obey . . .”
“You will now be ro.bo.tized.”
“Yes. I will be . . . robotized.”
When she was told to, Clare followed Meredith out. Neither girl responded to the off-hook tone.
In the suite, Meredith told the hypnotized maid to stop. Clare obeyed and then swayed there in the middle of the floor, struggling to awaken. Meredith resumed attention behind her, matching Leslie.
Still ravishing in her bikini and labcoat, her mother pranced out from behind the imaginary control panel to gloat over her captive. She caressed Clare and held her, commenting excitedly on what a very useful robot she’d make.
It seemed to rouse the younger girl. Forcing her eyelids up, she peered at Frances. “N-nooo . . .”
Frances put a finger under her chin and drew Clare’s gaze up to hers.
“You are still deeply hypnotized,” she suggested softly but firmly.
Clare’s posture sagged a little. “I am still . . . deeply . . . hypnotized . . .” Her whisper was tired.
“Still helpless in the flashes.”
“Still helpless . . . flash . . . es . . .”
“You will not resist being turned into a mindless robot.”
“I will not . . . resist . . . being turned into a mindless robot.”
Frances stroked Clare’s hair with her free hand. “You will obey only me.”
“I will obey only you.”
Leaning forward, Frances kissed Clare’s lips and beamed into her eyes. Then she spun and trotted back behind the panel, lifting a microphone.
“Robots.”
Meredith stiffened and saw Leslie do the same.
“Strip the victim and prepare her to be robotized.”
“Ro.bots o.bey,” they harmonized, cued to respond to the joint command. Marching to Clare they stared into each other’s eyes and then began pulling her clothes off. The maid moved vaguely between them, purring and moaning as the silver gloves touched her skin.
Clare was down to her fishnets and heels when she snapped out of it, glancing from one silver robogirl to the other. She still seemed drowsy but looked at them defiantly, tensing to fight or try to run.
Meredith didn’t think the dazed girl had enough will left to flee now, but if she did it would be arousing to be unable to pursue her until Dr Stevens commanded it. She wondered if Leslie felt that way too, but when she looked, Leslie’s eyes stayed erotically blank.
At her panel, Frances could see Clare’s rising resolve and clapped, smiling broadly. “Still! That’s just adorable.” She raised the mike.
“Merebot. Immobilize her.”
“Me.re.bot o.beys.” She stepped around and grasped Clare’s firm, soft upper arms from behind. Too late, the maid thrashed weakly, but Meredith held her. She was tempted to look down at Clare’s dimpled back and the way her ass curved out over the fishnets.
Instead, like a good robot, Meredith just stared at Clare’s head until told to do something else.
“Vic.tim im.mo.bi.lized.”
“Lesbot. Hypnotize her.”
“Hyp.no.tize. Hyp.no.tize.” Leslie was positioned, extending her shining fist almost in Clare’s face.
“Nooooo . . .” Clare sagged in Meredith’s grip and her ass pressed lightly against Meredith’s crotch. She turned her head, but not much.
“Hyp.no.tize.”
The strobe flashed.
It stroked Meredith ‘s mind again, and she worried for a moment about going slack and letting Clare escape. But the light had recaptured Clare and she straightened, relaxing in Meredith’s hands.
And Meredith was a robot now. She had no mind to hypnotize.
Clare was still. “Vic.tim hyp.no.tized,” Leslie reported. “O.be.di.ence re.stored.”
The trance kept Clare docile while the robots prepared her to join them. She was a lovely, expressionless doll as they stripped the stockings from her and slid the stretch metallic hotpants and halter onto her body. One of them fitted her waist with the belt with the shining cellphone that would control her, while the other taped its wire up her body, under the collar, to the headset. Another wire linked the minicam on her cap to the unit on her belt.
The two robots worked in silence, empty gazes crossing randomly.
The maid held still as they painted her pretty face into something as gleaming and wanton as theirs. Silver masks stared at a silver mask.
She was prepared. Where Meredith and Leslie were erect and wide-eyed flesh-and-metal paladins, Clare swayed vulnerably and her eyelids drooped.
“Lesbot. Activate her mindlink.”
“Les.bot o.beys.” Leslie tapped Clare’s cell as it rang, and the girl woke a little to the new voice.
“Clare? You’re still hypnotized, and want only to obey my voice. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes. I’m still hypnotized.” Clare sounded sleepily reassured. “I want only to obey your voice.”
“Good girl. Now I’m going to turn you into a mindless slave.” Frances’ voice was just as avid but colder again. Cruel. Meredith wanted it to be for her as it went on.
“What you will do, Clare, to help me with that, will be to walk over without resistance and place yourself in the conversion chamber.
“Do that now.”
Frail and delicious in the tight skimpy silver, Clare paced compliantly to the chamber. She about-faced neatly under the canopy and gazed outward.
“Actually, it might be interesting to see how a victim responds to being robotized when she’s just been brought out of hypnosis.
“Clare, when you hear the tone, you will be unable to move, but you will awaken from your trance.”
Beep.
Clare only took a moment to realize where she was. Then she screamed.
“Help! I can’t move!”
“No one will help you, Clare. The only ones who hear you have already become my robots.”
“Noooo!”
“Soon, Clare, you’ll be one of them.”
Clare actually snarled. “I won’t!”
The lights began to flash, and Meredith heard the sound effects her mother was playing into Clare’s headset.
“No! No! No! I won’t—I won’t—I . . . w . . . won’t . . .” Clare writhed tightly, barely able to move. Her face contorted with her struggle, and the metallic fabric on her body blazed under the pulsing light.
“I won’t . . . I won’t . . . I will not . . . not . . .” Slowly Clare relaxed. Her face opened and took on an expression of awe. Her minute twitches slowed.
“I will . . . I will . . . I will . . . o . . . bey . . . I . . . I . . .
“Nooo . . . my th-th-thoughts . . . my . . . my . . . so hard to . . . to . . . whoooo ammmm IIII . . .”
Clare spasmed and stood rigid under the pulsing lights. She chanted in time with them.
“Re.for.mat.ting. Re.for.mat.ting.” She was still. “Re.for.mat.ting com.ple.ted.
“Girl i.den.ti.ty de.le.ted. Girl me.mo.ry de.le.ted.
“I . . . do . . . not . . . ex . . . ist . . . I . . . do . . . not . . . ex . . . ist . . .”
A beep silenced her.
Another tone prompted her.
“Clare does not ex.ist.” She stared out of the conversion chamber with utter conviction. “Clare de.le.ted. Clare.bot on.line. Clare.bot un.der ex.ter.nal con.trol.
“Ro.bo.ti.za.tion com.ple.ted.”
“Clarebot, verify primary program.”
“Clare.bot o.beys. Pri.ma.ry pro.gram: ab.so.lute o.be.di.ence to Con.trol.ler.”
More tones brought jerkily to stand before Dr Stevens. Framed in the silver eyeshadow, her eyes smote Meredith with how open and defenseless they were.
“Yes. Oh, yes. You sweet lovely little piece of slutflesh.” Dr Stevens gazed into those eyes and licked her lips. “You will obey.” She tapped the remote she held.
The tone made Clare lower herself, folding into a kneeling stance while keeping her back straight. She gazed wonderingly at her Controller’s cunt behind its scrap of lace until a new tone gave her purpose. Her arms rose and then reached, and she pulled the panty down Frances’ legs, leaving her gloved hands down when she was done. Frances sighed as she stepped out of the panty, and touched the remote.
Clare balanced herself and leaned forward.
Another beep, and she put her mouth to Frances’ cleft, and Meredith heard her mother hiss, savoring the girl’s lips. Clare’s eyes glazed but didn’t blink. Meredith saw her breasts move faster in the silver bra as the sight and scent aroused her through the hypnotic thrall that kept her in character.
Another beep, and Clare began servicing her. Her lips and tongue sometimes made sounds Meredith could hear, and even though Clare stayed in place like a well-programmed robot, Meredith could see her mother shudder and fight to keep herself on Clare’s mouth.
Stabbing the remote, she brought Clare’s hands back up and they slid around her thighs to cup her ass and keep her in position. Frances’ hips rolled a little, peeking from the labcoat as she writhed. Soon her moaning and panting drowned out her slave’s mouthwork. She was trying to swallow her cries, and that only made them more exciting to Meredith.
Frances put a quivering hand on Clare’s shining head, touching it almost shyly—before squeezing it and pulling her inward to fuck her face. Meredith watched her mother’s thighs flex as she rose to her toes and leaned into the mindless licking.
She cried out at last and crumpled into Mistress’ arms, staggering back from Clare. Clare stayed as she was, leaning forward, licking empty air, her hands floating where her Controller’s hips had been. It took Dr Stevens a moment to recover enough to kneel Clare back, then bring her liquidly to her feet again.
Her silver lipstick unmarred but glossed with girlhoney, Clare looked blankly forward, awaiting command.
Dr Stevens looked at Meredith.
After a long time, Mistress whispered, “Merebot’s your slave too, Doctor. Programmed to obey any command.”
“Yes . . .”
“Such a lovely mouth, Doctor. Yours to control.”
“But . . .” Meredith could smell her mother’s arousal.
“No inhibitions.”
“I . . .”
“They can’t say no.”
“She’s . . .”
“You don’t want to.”
Her mother sobbed a breath. “My—daughter . . .”
Mistress sighed. “Mindless slavebitch.”
A moan.
“I have no mind.” It made Meredith wet to hear her mother sound so submissive. “I will obey.”
“You will not remember discussing this, Frances. It was only a thought inside your head.”
“I will not remember.” Frances’ voice was flat, her eyes as empty as her robot-girls’. “I understand.”
Fingers snapped.
“Lost in contemplation, Doctor?”
Dr Stevens hesitated, then chuckled richly. “No. Just a . . . thought.
“But let’s send these two out and see how they perform.” She lifted the control.
“Robots.”
Both of them jerked to tighter attention.
“Ro.bots o.bey.”
81.
Meredith followed Clare out of the suite, just as excited as on her first foray that acquired Clare. Her eyes wanted to sink down to watch Clare’s ass, twitching pertly in the skintight silver.
As when she’d immobilized Clare, It was more erotic to be Dr Stevens’ mindless robot and not look. In front of her locked gaze the shorter girl’s swimcapped head was erect. Bare under the collar, Clare’s back was pale and smooth. The wires to her headset and minicam were subtle and evil along her skin.
Dr Stevens’ husky breathing was in their ears, as her commands echoed in their heads.
Clare had been counting. Meredith knew the maid was so deeply hypnotized that she believed she had really been converted. Now she left-faced and stepped away. It triggered Meredith to move two more steps to where she’d been and
one
two
She came to attention, side by side with Clare. The cadence was in her heartbeat now.
five six seven
She pivoted left, and she was face to face with Clare. Her mother would have both their blank, blank faces staring at her from adjoining screens. Meredith enjoyed Clare’s.
The other girl did look like a lovely machine, staring expressionlessly out of the silvery mask. Her lips glistened with Dr Stevens’ honey.
Meredith stared at the maid who breathed her mother’s scent. Too mindbound to lick it from her mouth, but lost in it.
For a moment she fantasized a command for them to step together. Embrace. Kiss.
Taste.
Beep.
“Pro.gram up.loa.ded,” Clare intoned. She spoke words Mistress had implanted in her thoughts, but Meredith could believe she was just a ‘bot executing a routine. “Con.trol.ler re.quires more ro.bots.”
“Ack.now.ledged.” Meredith’s heart raced. “Con.trol.ler must be o.beyed. Re.cruit.ment i.ni.ti.a.ted.”
“Un.der.stood.” Clare’s eyes shone as dully as her lips.
“Robots.” Dr Stevens’ breathing was ragged but steady. “Access program enthrall.bot, and upload to task buffers.”
“Ro.bots o.bey.” Saying it to each other was like a deep kiss. They alternated the chant.
“Lo.cate.”
“E.va.lu.ate.”
“In.dex.”
“Hyp.no.tize.”
“In.struct.”
“Re.trieve.”
“Pre.sent.”
They stared intensely at each other. “Up.load com.plete.”
“Mmmmm! Ohh. Um—execute, my pretties! Bring me some nice . . . .new . . . slaaaaves . . .”
As their Controller orgasmed in their ears, they pivoted, then marched in lockstep down the corridor.
Again again again! Each step made Meredith crazy. She knew Clare was hypnotized into the game, but who else was? Would Mistress have them walk out and let everyone see them strut around like this, now that there were two of them playing fembot?
It was what Mistress willed, and that made Meredith weak.
“Clarebot.”
“Clare.bot o.beys.” Neither girl broke step.
“That woman you seduced—Donna?” Meredith realized she hadn’t known the name of the older maid Clare had made into her plaything. “Access her.”
“File not found.”
“Halt.” They froze at attention, near a window. “Explain, Clarebot.”
“Clare.bot o.beys. Can.not ac.cess. Clare mind re.for.mat.ted when ro.bo.tized. All me.mo.ries de.le.ted.” Clare’s eyes glazed a little as she reported.
“You’ve forgotten your lover?”
“There is no lo.ver. There is on.ly o.be.di.ence.”
Frances sighed in their ears.
“All right. Robots, proceed down the corridor. Turn left when you reach the far wing.”
“Ro.bots o.bey.” They marched off.
Meredith was terrified and excited. Had Donna been hypnotized and programmed to be their next recruit, or was Mistress letting them play with an outsider?
Maybe Mistress would use Frances to make Clare use one of the triggers Clare had conditioned Donna to respond to. Puppets trancing puppets . . .
Maybe the Controller would just tell her robots to overpower Donna.
Meredith felt merciless.
By the time they paced into the turn at the other end of the house, she was hoping Walt would reappear. She wondered what orders she would obey then.
Sudden, discordant tones in their ears froze both girls. Two silver boots paused over the floor for a moment, and they came to attention. There was silence.
“Override,” a calm voice told them, inside their heads where there was no resistance or doubt.
“O.ver.ride,” they droned softly.
The tones resumed, beeping and whining and bonging. Disrupting their simple robot minds. Destroying what focus they had. Emptying them.
A new tone brought silence and the two robot girls stood still.
Call failed. Now there was no voice to control them, and no commands left in their minds to obey.
In a moment they spun to face each other again, triggered by the blankness itself. Mirrorlike, their hands reached in and tapped the phones off. They resumed attention. They would stand here, unable to think or act, until the Controller restored their link.
Meredith relaxed in her tension and enjoyed Clare, curvy in metal, wide-eyed and asleep.
The phones rang. Both girls reached again and tapped them on.
“Robots. Verify primary program.”
It wasn’t Dr Stevens’ voice.
But it was the voice in their ears.
“Ro.bots o.bey.” They responded without hesitation. “Pri.ma.ry pro.gram: ab.so.lute o.be.di.ence to Con.trol.ler.”
“Yes. I am the new Controller.”
It was just so wrong.
Ohhh. Yyyyessss.
“Un.der.stood. You are the new Con.trol.ler.” Clare looked even younger as she submitted to the unknown voice.
Meredith quivered inside. “Ack.now.ledged. You must be o.beyed.” They were not programmed to question a new voice. Questioning was like disobedience.
It did not exist.
“Robots. Delete all prior obedience patterns.”
They looked at each other. “Ro.bots o.bey. Pat.terns de.le.ted.” Was Clare a little flushed after all?
“No re.si.du.al o.be.di.ence.
“To.tal.ly o.pen to com.mand.”
“You will no longer remember that you obeyed any other voice. Mine is the only voice you have ever obeyed.”
“Yours is the on.ly voice.”
“Return at once to the laboratory and await command.”
“Ro.bots o.bey.” They swiveled instantly and stalked back to the suite. The walk seemed endless and Meredith wanted to run. But she remembered she was a robot, unable to think of doing anything but what she was ordered.
She walked.
“Robots. Confirm program enthrall.bot still running.”
“Ro.bots o.bey.” They stepped closer to the door. “Con.firm. Still see.king vic.tims to ro.bo.tize.”
At the door to the suite Meredith smoothly took the lead. For a moment she wondered what Clare felt about her back view, and then they were strutting inside, posting up in front of the conversion chamber.
Her mother hadn’t slipped her panties back on, and had slipped her bra off while she’d been watching them obey her. Now she shouted at them from behind her worktable. “Robots! Robots—acknowledge!”
Not coming through the headset, the former control voice sounded so weak.
Of course, the new control voice had also told Meredith that there was no former one.
“Obey me!” Dr Stevens poked at the control, then tried another. A lock of hair had come loose and draped prettily on the bows of her glasses, flying out as she glanced wildly over at the wall of video.
It showed her herself in profile, half-naked and frantic. She was what her robots were looking at.
She began to realize they were no longer her robots.
“My god, what’s wrong?” The melodramatic cry rang with enjoyment. “I—I can’t control them!
“Alice! They’ve gone haywire! You’re in danger! With those hypnostrobes, they—”
“Oh, I don’t know, Dr Stevens.” Both girls twitched a little, even though the voice wasn’t programming them. “They’re just standing there. They seem like perfectly compliant ‘bots to me.”
“No, Alice. I didn’t instruct them to return! They should be hypnotizing that maid into submission, so I can turn her into another of them. They’re not responding to my command signals at all!”
Her mother pointed a control at Meredith and pressed it over and over. Meredith didn’t blink. “Look. This one should be asleep.”
She shifted it. “And Clarebot’s hotkeyed to go into this sexy little puppet-dance thing when I . . . um.
“But she’s not!”
“Our loss, Doctor, I’m sure. But these robots still obey their programming. It’s just been refreshed.”
“What—what do you mean?” Dr Stevens was achingly vulnerable, sliding her hip until the labcoat parted to show her pussy. “Alice—why are you wearing that hands-free—cellphone—!”
“Your concept is brilliant, Doctor, and clearly irresistible. I know the Consortium will be as pleased as I am. And as eager to begin making new slaves.” Mistress chuckled as Dr Stevens resumed her frenetic efforts to regain control of the motionless girls.
“Of course, you rewired their obedient little brains to obey any voice they hear over the control channel. Really the only flaw—and, as you see, that has its disadvantages.
“We need to tighten that up before deploying the first recruiter-drone series.”
“I can—I’ll certainly see to that.” Dr Stevens’ nervous laugh was almost a moan.
“Perhaps, Doctor. If we think you still have anything to contribute—this is such a complete process, and that’s really just a detail.
“Otherwise, with your looks, I suspect we’ll program you for something more recreational.”
“Alice!” Dr Stevens drew herself up and glared. “You need me! This is only the primitive beginning—”
“A few seconds in the conversion chamber, then absolute obedience. Oh, we’ll settle for that, Doctor.” The control voice was amused. “We may scan your vestigial memory for these other ideas, later. But right now, you need to be fitted for some hotpants and a subservient monotone.”
“Nooooooo!”
Dr Stevens turned to the robots. “They’re my slaves! You can’t turn them against me! They won’t—they can’t—”
“Robots. Hypnotize her.”
Meredith and Clare raised their left arms.
“No! No! Cancel command! Cancel command!”
“Hyp.no.tize.” They were in harmony again. “Hyp.no.tize.”
“I created you!” Dr Stevens pointed at them imperiously, holding aloft yet another control device. “You must obey me!” The labcoat swept out like a short cape, displaying her.
“You are my mindless slaves! You must obey me!”
“Hyp.no.tize. Hyp.no.tize.” They turned on the strobelights.
“You . . . must . . . nnno . . .” She froze in the flashes, as if stunned by paparazzi. Her eyes grew.
“. . . can’t . . . look . . . must . . .” The control fell from numb fingers and thumped to the floor.
“. . . must . . . oh . . . so . . . hard to . . .” Her arms floated down, then to her sides.
The need to keep pressing the buttons left both girls at the same moment. Their arms lowered. The robotized girls and the entranced mad scientist stared at each other.
“Vic.tim hyp.no.tized,” Meredith droned.
“Re.sis.tance des.troyed,” Clare confirmed. “Vic.tim will now o.bey.”
There was an instant of struggle before Dr Stevens sighed. “I . . . will obey.”
“Soon, Doctor, you will be programmed to obey my voice. For now, though, I’ll let you spend the last few moments of your non-robotized life obeying your own robots.”
Dr Stevens swayed slightly and her pussy glimmered with dew. But there had been no command. She kept still and staring.
“Robots. Prepare her for conversion. Instruct her as necessary.”
“Ro.bots o.bey.”
Their heads rotated to face each other, then back. Now Meredith remembered that she could initiate things. Clare would follow her lead, thinking it was her Clarebot programming.
“Vic.tim.” Her mother twitched. “You will lis.ten to this ro.bot’s voice. You will hear in.struc.tions. You will o.bey.”
“I will obey,” her mother said again.
“Dis.robe. Come to us.”
Frances’ hands floated up and slipped the labcoat off. She blinked a few times, as though fighting sleep, but then slowly dropped her hands. She turned and paced around the table, wearing nothing but her big round glasses.
Meredith stalked forward and then pivoted sharply to face her.
“You will be ro.bo.tized.”
Her mother gasped but held pose. It looked like the agony of being caught in her own Insane Master Plan, but Meredith could smell her heat again. Her whisper was throaty and eager.
“I will be robotized.”
82.
Her mother was already nude and the glasses were plano-lensed, part of the game. But Meredith felt tender and evil as she slid them from her mother’s face, stripping her of this last pathetic defense.
In trance, Frances was as pliant a doll as Clare had been to dress and make up. Seeing her meekly close her eyes for painting at Clare’s command made Meredith’s ass clench. Through her gloves she could feel Frances’ urgency, and see it—her flushed skin, bulleted nipples, soaked pussy now imprisoned in the hotpants.
Her mother could look austere and beautifully remote in a suit or a gown, but nude and hypnotized she was even curvier and softer-looking than Clare. Turning her into this parody of a machine-woman was very wrong, and the wrongness slid inside Meredith and made her want to wrestle her mother down and smear all that nastyhot silver makeup.
But I’m a robot. All I programmed to do is . . . help make her one, too.
Then her mother was ready.
“Merebot. Activate her mindlink.”
“Me.re.bot o.beys.” She wrapped herself around her mother, palm splayed over the spandex that filmed her mother’s hip, to reach around. She ran a fingertip up the soft asscheek and then to the cellphone as Mistress rang through.
“Dr Stevens. You’re deep in trance. My voice is the only truth in your mind.”
“In a trance. Your voice . . . only truth.”
“Yes. When I tell you to, you will awaken, but you will remain in trance and obey my commands. Moving without my command will be impossible; thinking other than as I tell you will be—” Mistress chuckled “—very difficult.”
Gravely, Frances nodded. Her lips worked as she tried to repeat the instructions.
“Wake up, Dr Stevens.”
“Oh my . . . god.” They’d posed her before the mirror, and now she saw herself in silver.
“No. No. You’re going to—convert me. Turn me into a robot—with my own robotizer!” Her passionate horror made only her silvered lips move. The rest of her was still braced to attention.
“Actually, Dr Stevens, I’m not. We of the Consortium seldom perform tasks when slaves are available. One of your own new girlbots will convert you.
“Merebot. Go to the worktable now.”
“Me.re.bot o.beys.” She turned and paced to the spot where her mother had stood.
“Oh—no. Alice! Not her! Not my—”
“Brainwashed puppet? Please, Doctor.” Meredith did not look at the props that made up the mad scientist’s workbench. Hands by her sides, she stared blankly over them like a well-wired robot who had not yet received programming. “Irony is de rigeur in these things, as is a ‘comeuppance.’ Though I have to ask—will it turn you on to be depersonalized and enslaved by your own daughter?”
Frances only moaned again. Meredith felt hotter not looking at her even now.
“Never mind. In a few moments I’ll be able to make you tell me anything, and then alter it as I wish.”
“But—”
“Merebot. Initiate robotization now.”
“Me.re.bot o.beys.” She took two stiff steps forward and bent her head, scanning the controls with insectile stiffness. Taking up the microphone she straightened.
“Vic.tim will at.tend. Vic.tim will now re.ceive in.struc.tions and o.bey.”
“I—won’t.”
“Vic.tim can.not re.sist.”
“Ohhh . . . god. I—I can’t.” Slowly, one foot put slowly before the other, Frances minced toward her doom. At the conversion chamber she halted, as if using the last fragments of her will to keep herself away from the mindquelling canopy.
“O.ver.ride. In.ter.ro.bo.tic con.trol ac.ti.va.ted.” Meredith didn’t look anywhere else.
Clare and Leslie chorused, “O.ver.ride. Ro.bots sub.mit to Me.re.bot con.trol.”
Meredith swiveled her head to the left, to the right, then stared ahead.
“Les.bot. Ap.proach con.ver.sion cham.ber.”
“Les.bot o.beys.” Leslie gracefully left her sentry pose by the wall and went to stand within reach of Frances, before stopping and staring through her.
“As.sist vic.tim to en.ter cham.ber.”
“Les.bot o.beys.” She raised her gloved hands up, then out, then extended them to hold Frances, guiding her into the framework. Frances moved pliantly, like a magic-show volunteer led in trance to a disappearance box, and turned to face outward.
“Vic.tim po.si.tioned.”
“I am Doctor Frances Stevens!” None of them responded, but she was talking to herself. “My will is strong! I can resist and remember! I can—”
“I.ni.ti.ate.” Meredith pressed a switch, and the flashing and tones began. She stood there, as taut and still as her mother, and watched the lights play seductively over her mother’s body and staring eyes.
“I am Doctor Frances Stevens! I am Doctor Frances Stevens! I am Doctor . . . Doctor . . . Fransyy . . . I . . . Doc . . .”
“In.ten.si.fy.” Meredith altered a control, and her mother cried out like she’d been goosed.
“Uhhh! I! I . . . remember . . . will . . . str . . . nooooo . . . memories . . . draining . . . remember . . .”
“Vic.tim will think of ro.bo.ti.za.tion.”
“Yes! Yes! I . . . invented . . . didn’t . . . I? Processss . . .”
“In.cor.rect. Vic.tim did not in.vent ro.bo.ti.za.tion. Vic.tim knows on.ly that it can.not be re.sis.ted.”
“But I . . . it was . . . mine . . . I can’t . . . can’t . . .” Frances sighed huskily. “I can’t . . . resist . . .”
“Cor.rect. Vic.tim thoughts a.ligned with con.trol. Vic.tim will not resist.”
“I . . . vic . . . tim . . . will not resissssst . . .”
“Vic.tim will cease to ex.ist.”
“No!” Frances called weakly.
“Brain.fry.” Meredith jerked her head down to the controls and adjusted them again. The lights and tones were rapid and intense.
Her mother’s scream dripped with ecstasy.
She was a statue. “Re.for.mat.ting. Re.for.mat.ting—com.ple.ted.
“Doc.tor i.den.ti.ty de.le.ted. Doc.tor me.mo.ry de.le.ted.
“Do . . . not . . . ex . . . ist . . . do . . . not . . . ex.ist . . . do not ex.ist . . .”
Beep.
Tone.
“Doc.tor Ste.vens does not ex.ist.” She looked utterly converted. “De.le.ted. Ro.bot re.quires de.sig.na.tion.”
Meredith kept it up. “Un.der.stood. New con.vert is Fran.bot. Re.spond.”
“Fran.bot o.beys.” Her mother sounded so eager. “Ro.bo.ti.za.tion com.ple.ted.”
“Un.der.stood. Ve.ri.fy pri.ma.ry pro.gram.”
“Fran.bot o.beys. Pri.ma.ry pro.gram: ab.so.lute o.be.di.ence to Con.trol.ler.”
“And welcome to mindless obedience forever, Franbot.” Mistress had come to watch Frances succumb to the conversion, and stood at her ease among the four half-naked fetish ‘bots. “Merebot, have Franbot attend me.”
“Me.re.bot o.beys.” She touched a control and produced one of the control tones.
“Fran.bot. Ex.it cham.ber and stand be.fore Con.trol.ler.”
“Fran.bot o.beys.” Her mother put a little hip roll in her robot strut as she went to their owner. She quivered a bit but held still as Mistress felt her up.
“Mmmm.” Mistress kept the headset on. She was still the control voice in their heads. “Just a few minutes ago you were about to start a path to world conquest. Now you’re a witless drone that exists to be told what to do. You can’t even think of disobeying me.”
“Un.re.cog.nized term.” Frances sounded hollow. Brainscooped and refilled. “What is ‘dis.o.bey.’ Fran.bot is not pro.grammed for ‘dis.o.bey.’”
Mistress laughed and hugged herself. “Ohhhhh, yesss.
“I could just rape you right here and now, dear ex-Doctor, but that requires a will to be taken against. And I think a better use for you would be . . .
“. . . to go out there with the other robots and clear this entire estate of freethinking intruders.”
Frances almost hiccuped and her painted face seemed to shine with anguish. But she didn’t move, and Meredith saw again that only eagerness burned in her eyes.
“You will be programmed to identify yourself to your employees as a slave drone, and explain to them that this place will be operated only by completely loyal staff. Fembots like you, with no mind to plan betrayal and no will to disobey orders. Under command of your Controller, you will order them to leave at once.
“I’m sure they will, once you also explain that staying means being robotized like you.”
She watched Frances try not to squirm, and then unhelpfully began to finger the tight silver spandex over her mons. “Naturally, you won’t really ‘speak’ to them like an actual human. And your pseudocognitive subroutine isn’t large enough to sustain a prolonged exchange with anything with a mind of its own.
“I’ll just record a simple message into your brain, and you will just play it back, over and over.
“Perhaps all four of you in lockstep, chanting in tune.” Mistress laughed. “Well—not all. I definitely want someone licking me while I watch it all from here.”
Meredith watched her mother’s silvered eyelids flash closed for a moment.
“Fran.bot o.beys,” she rasped. Maybe she was already feeling her employees’ stares on her like warm oil. “Fran.bot a.waits im.plan.ta.tion of an.ti.in.tru.der rou.tine.”
By her hips, her stiff gloved hands flapped a little, as the impulse to kneel and beg for it died in her. Robots did neither.
“Eager little bitchbot, aren’t you?” Mistress fondled Frances some more. “Think of what you’ll be programmed to do then. Prance into the boardroom like a windup toy—we could even get a big silver key to rotate on your back while you told them you were someone else’s obedient machine. They’d still get their orders through you, just always on the same note.”
Frances’ eyes were headlights in the chrome of her face.
83.
For a while Mistress said nothing. Then she sighed and stepped back, doffing her own headset.
“I wish I could.” Her voice, coming from the room instead of inside Meredith’s head, sounded wistful, even defeated. “I think you’d love going on a fembot rampage through this whole place, shock and dismay the groundskeepers. Maybe even hypnotize another maid or some hot security babe, even if it’s while you’re just mindlessly obeying.
“But Frances. We just can’t risk that. None of them can be trusted with this sweet little game. We’ll have to play it in here.”
Frances twitched again.
“And that’s just not the same. I should have realized it.
“I’m very sorry.” Mistress looked dejected. “I’ll just have to wake you all up. We’ll think of something else, I know it.”
Leaving Frances in her pose, Mistress went to Clare and then Leslie, snapping each girl out of her trance and then soothing her into a milder daze. They went into the bathroom to change and wash off the makeup. When it was Meredith’s turn, Mistress just passed a hand over her face.
It woke a new set of commands inside, and she looked calmly back. “Yes, Mistress. I will obey.”
Mistress left Frances as she was, as if giving her as long as possible to stay in costume and character.
Meredith found the other two in the shower and joined them. Their minds were still too wrapped in Mistress’ hypnotic layers even to think of sex games under the hot spray, even as they washed each other of sweat and silver paint.
They dressed. Before reentering the bedroom where the “lab” was set up they suddenly paused, and began happily chattering as though a switch had been flipped.
Frances saw them that way as they came back out.
Clare left and Leslie began poking around the props to start putting them away. Mistress was bringing Frances out of the play-trance gently, and soon Meredith heard her mother murmuring back to her.
She sounded disappointed, but submissive to Mistress, accepting her judgment to stop playing just as she was getting the chance to strut around under brainlocked control. Mistress agreed to let her wear her robot costume back to her own suite and change there, and they’d meet downstairs in a little while.
Meredith watched the forlorn flesh-and-silver doll plod out of her suite, then came unbidden to attention just as Leslie did. Clare returned moments later and joined them in stillness.
Mistress walked past her frozen slaves and worked the computer that ran the video wall. In a moment she had accessed other cameras, and from the corner of her eye Meredith saw they were in her mother’s room. She couldn’t see what Mistress was watching her mother do there, but Mistress sounded very pleased at what she saw.
“Clare,” she said.
“Yes, Mistress.” The hypnotized maid was completely calm.
“Where is your pet now? That other maid, Donna?”
“She is working in the other wing now, Mistress.” Clare might not even remember her playacting. Mistress had probably sent her very deep. There was no trace of terrified ingenue, or braindrained robogirl, in her serene subservience.
“Go and put her into trance. Tell her you are both assigned to the downstairs parlor. When you say it you will remember that is true. Program her to respond naturally to what she sees and hears there, and then to sleep and forget when you tell her to.”
“Yes, Mistress. I must obey.” Clare turned pertly and went to do as she was told.
Mistress led Meredith and Leslie downstairs to the parlor. In the same way that she’d staged Meredith’s “therapeutic” hypnosis session for her mother to walk in on, she moved the girls around the room like self-propelled props. Now and then she stood near the door, facing inward like someone just entering, and paid attention to sightlines.
Meredith and Leslie, in their trances, posed and moved and obeyed. Meredith had a sense of what was coming and tingled as she complied. When her pose put her gaze on Leslie, she felt a now-familiar certainty that Mistress had left her girlfriend much deeper and less aware. In many ways Leslie was just a robot for Mistress now.
Meredith wondered if she should despise herself for not minding that much. Then she just enjoyed how Leslie’s slim thighs looked in that skirt, and how her glassy eyes shone in the room’s light.
Clare and Donna strode in and began fussing with various items in the spacious room, chatting quietly and seeming oblivious to Mistress and her two mannequins. They were almost burlesquing Maids At Work, another set piece like the Women In Conversation that Mistress was making out of the right arrangement of chairs, sofa, Meredith, and Leslie.
There was some sort of cue below her awareness, and suddenly Meredith found herself talking and laughing with her girlfriend and Mistress. The scene seemed almost genuine. She relaxed into her role, happy to comply.
The door opened.
At first, no one was looking, and Meredith just kept laughing at what must have been a joke by Mistress when something thumped loudly to the floor.
“Oh, my—Ms Stevens—I—” Donna sounded very shocked indeed. Mistress and Leslie turned to the door, adopting similar expressions.
As Meredith looked up, the oddly regular tick of heeled boots on hardwood was swallowed up on carpeting.
Her mother, back straight and arms down, marched rigidly into the parlor, between the maids and the conversation. She stopped dead, feet together, staring at the wall. Then she pivoted to face Mistress.
She was still a play-robot in boots, hotpants, swimcap, and silver eyeshadow.
She’d come through the house like that. Meredith didn’t wonder whether she’d met any unscheduled staff like . . . Walt? But she didn’t have to. She just enjoyed how erotic her mother looked. How needful.
Her mother clipped forward a few steps, near where Meredith sat, and braced again. She gazed over Mistress’ head. Looking at none of them, seeing all of them.
“Fran.bot o.beys,” she reported in a trembling but sincere monotone. “Pri.ma.ry pro.gram: ab.so.lute o.be.di.ence to Con.trol.ler.”
Mistress just stared at her. Behind her, Donna was whispering almost violently to Clare. Meredith couldn’t hear the words and knew her mother couldn’t, but knew she could feel the maid’s attention on her fetishized body.
“Frances? I thought we’d . . . ah . . . stopped playing.”
“Ack.now.ledged.” Frances eyes were wide, but they blinked. They were a little wet now. “But this u.nit’s mind and will were re.for.mat.ted. This u.nit was ro.bo.tized. It must sub.mit to Con.trol.ler.” She was leveling the tone now, and it vibrated with yearning.
“Frances . . .”
“Fran.bot is a wit.less drone that ex.ists to be com.man.ded.
“It is a wind.up toy.
“It is an o.be.di.ent ma.chine. The con.trol voice pro.grammed Fran.bot to ab.sorb these con.cepts. They are true.”
“Oh, my, god.” It was hard to tell if Donna was scandalized, pleased, or even impressed. But she reminded them all that they were outside the dream-barrier of the game. Meredith looked at her mother.
Her mother’s nipples were more visible in the metallic halter. The humiliation must be like slick fingers under the spandex.
“Fran.bot will per.form lick.sex on com.mand. Fran.bot will hyp.no.tize new vic.tims. Fran.bot will o.bey a.ny com.mand it re.ceives.” Two tears rolled in parallel from Frances’ silvered eyes down her blushing cheeks. Her uninflected voice made the pleading even more intense. “Fran.bot ex.ists on.ly to o.bey Con.trol.ler.”
“Frances.” Mistress sounded compassionate, and very interested. “Are you saying that you want to be a robot slave for real? “My robot slave?”
Frances’ face twisted, but with admirable discipline she blanked herself again.
“Af.fir.ma.tive. Fran.bot is ro.bo.tized. Fran.bot be.longs to Con.trol.ler.”
“And Franbot very, very badly needs to play,” Mistress said. Then she snapped, “Confirm.”
Frances breathed deeply and intoned, “Con.firm.”
“Well, I think I’ve thought of a way that we can do just that.
“First, I have a task for you. Franbot.”
“Fran.bot o.beys.”
“Rotate in place.”
“Fran.bot o.beys.” She pivoted, a little awkwardly but briskly. Now she was at attention before her staring, grinning maids. “Hu.mans de.tec.ted.”
Donna giggled softly, but she was beaming at her employer. She clearly liked seeing Ms Stevens in tinfoil hotpants.
“Identify them.”
“Fran.bot o.beys. They are maids. Clare and Don.na.”
“Does my robot want to serve them sexually?”
“Af.fir.ma.tive.”
“Go to Donna.”
“Fran.bot o.beys.” She walked jerkily toward the older maid, and Clare, pursing her lips over a laugh, stepped out of the way. Donna looked nervous and eager. Frances halted inches from her.
“Kiss Donna now.”
“Fran.bot o.beys.” She did look like a windup toy. Her hands rose, reached, slid past the maid, and drew her gently in. Frances cocked her head and brought the maid to her.
Donna stiffened, and then wrapped herself around Frances.
“Stop now.”
“Fran.bot o.beys.” Frances instantly reversed herself, releasing Donna and then moving her arms mechanically back to her sides. The maid looked dazed and thrilled, even as Frances’ staring eyes seemed to worry her.
“Now, listen carefully, and obey.
“I will tell you when to be a robot again, and it will be soon.
“But right now, I want you to ask Donna if you may be her robot for while. And you will ask her as yourself, Frances dear.
“Now.”
Frances gave a little cry and flapped her arms. It was as if she’d tranced herself and only now awakened, almost pressed against the other woman.
“Donna?” she murmured, then repeated it so they could all hear. “May . . . may I, be, your . . . your robot slave?”
“Umm—Ms Stevens?”
Frances squirmed. “I—I know it’s perverse, Donna, and it’s exploitative, and I don’t want to harass . . .
“I mean . . . please, let me submit to you.” She sounded almost lightheaded, but each word made her more aroused. “Control me. Make me your doll. Make me dance. You can do anything to me. You can take pictures, and you can pose me anyway you want.
“Please, Donna. Please?”
“That will do, Frances.” Mistress leaned back in her chair. “Come here to me, now.”
Frances about-faced and had taken one jerky step before smiling feebly and walking back over human-style.
“Stop there, Frances. I want to look at you. So absurd—and so absurdly sexy.”
Out of pose, she looked even softer in the faux-android costume. She looked ready to collapse but she stayed up for Mistress. She shivered, and then started fidgeting again, fingers restless by her thighs. It drew the eye to them, below the high tight shorts, and Meredith let herself look.
“Alice.”
They barely heard it.
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
Mistress smiled. Then she laughed. “Clare.”
The younger maid came forward. She stopped beside Frances and took a deliberate moment to ogle her before curtseying to Mistress. “Yes, Ms Holloway?”
“Trigger her.”
Clare smirked and turned slowly toward Frances, leaning close as though to kiss her. Frances trembled and her eyes darted wildly, before starting to stare back at Clare.
Clare licked her lips. “Mindless slavebitch.”
Frances flew to attention so quickly that Clare almost fell backward.
“I have no mind.” Her robot monotone buzzed with eagerness. “I will o.bey.”
“Yes,” said Mistress. “Exactly.”