Emily, Processed.
Even before Emily opened her eyes, she knew it was dark. The knowledge did nothing to prepare her for the absolute void that confronted her, shrouding her vision as she opened her eyes. A feeling of claustrophobia burrowed into her gut, she felt smothered by the darkness. She strained to turn her head, trying to find something to fix her eyes upon. She quickly realized the futility of trying to get her bearings in the complete absence of light. She made an attempt to move, feeling her muscles strain against a disembodied resistance that kept her in a fixed position. It made her feel weak, as if the air itself was keeping her locked in place. Worse still was the complete lack of external sensation, a chill running through her as she wondered if she had been paralyzed and was now attempting to move phantom limbs. Panic began to set in as she struggled in the silent and impenetrable darkness. It felt as if she were floating in the void, sensations of free-fall and claustrophobia simultaneously coursing through her. She must be dreaming. She’d had night terrors before, but nothing like this.
She tried to scream, but her dry mouth did little more than affect a silent pantomime. A sudden need to claw at her throat made her fingers twitch with a strength born of desperation, for all her effort she only managed to clench her hands into fists. It wasn’t much, a small gesture, but the struggle made her heart thud in her chest and blood pound through her ears. It all felt so real, yet in the silence it was impossible to tell if she could actually hear her own heartbeat or if her mind was playing tricks on her.
Vital Signs Indicate Function Within Acceptable Parameters, a disembodied voice stated so suddenly that Emily’s heart skipped a beat.
The voice had failed to break the terrible stillness and Emily’s heart rate slowly resumed a regular, if somewhat elevated, beat. She strained her ears, but something in the increasingly dull numbness of her senses told her that she hadn’t actually heard anything. This absolute void made it nearly impossible to discern reality from imagination. The sensation escaped her, like clutching at smoke. She felt herself smile a little at that thought, given her current difficulty in clutching much of anything.
A cold shudder ran down her spine almost as if in forewarning, an instant later something touched her lower back. The still void remained, yet it now felt broken as she made contact with something outside herself. She tried to squirm, to reach behind her back and pull it away, but what little movement she could muster simply wasn’t enough to break free of her invisible bonds.
Subject Should Be Aware That Continued Resistance May Result In physical Impairment, the dispassionate voice whispered to her.
It felt like a threat, but she struggled anyway. Trying desperately to twist her body or shift her limbs. The slight twitches she managed to produce were enough to provide her with momentary relief of her frustration, but cold reality killed the subtle elation as the pressure on her back increased. She felt it press harder on a small point at at the base of her spine, the pressure building until she let out a soundless scream of agony. It pierced through her flesh as her body twitched in muted spasms.
The thing bit deep, she was sure it hit bone. The realisation that the unseen object might sever her spinal cord immediately halted any eagerness to reach for the thing. A sudden cold numbness blossomed from the centre of the pain, bringing her bitter relief as it killed the sensations but left her fears. She tried her best to remain calm in the face of increasing hysteria, her chest heaving as if taking in deep breaths but she felt no air. Her ears throbbed numbly as the voice spoke once more.
Commencing Subject Preparation, it stated with deliberative calm
“Where the hell am I?” Emily thought, her jaw moving to mouth the silent words.
You Are Safe. The direct response startled her.
“Wait,” She tried to maintain her calm, “You can hear me? You can hear my fucking thoughts?”
We Can, the voice acknowledged.
“There is more than one of you? Why am I here? What’s going on?” The questions bubbled into her consciousness faster than she could control it, a cacophony of thoughts and questions racing through her mind as a new touchstone was found. She found herself feeling less isolated, yet experiencing a growing paranoia that she might now be some sort of captive. The Voice, if she could call it that, remained silent as she struggled to bring her mind into check again.
Emily had no idea how long it took to quiet her fears and focus her thoughts, but then she didn’t even know how long she’d been awake. With the Voice silent for now, she turned her thoughts to the last thing she could remember. Images throbbed through her mind, they seemed disjointed and out of sequence.
A cab ride.
Collapsing into her bed.
A nightclub.
Her best friend.
A shower.
Coming home alone.
You Are Not Dreaming. The Voice shattered the collection of snapshots and brought pins and needles to the soles of her feet with it.
Consent For Processing Has Been Accepted. For Your Function To Be Assigned, We Require That You Accept Your Place. The Voice stated ominously.
Emily felt her muscles relax as the Voice finished and she realized with a start that her hands had been clenched all this time. Her ankles flexed and she felt her feet extend involuntarily. The pins and needles softened to a gentle sensation as if a thick liquid was lapping at them. It was oddly pleasurable, distracting her from the confusion she felt at the loss of motor control. She shivered numbly as the lapping gradually built, advancing and receding in increasingly longer waves that seemed to climb her legs. Her mind wandered for a moment, imagining herself standing on the beach, the waves gently caressing her legs as the tide came in.
Her momentary euphoria was broken by the realisation that something was coating her legs and adhering to her flesh.
“Let me go! What are you doing to me?”, she screamed mentally, her paranoia flooding back.
Consent For Processing Has Been Accepted, the voice started to repeat.
“No! Fucking let me out of here now!” Emily tried to muster up all her rage as the sloshing liquid reached her knees, the substance tingling as it clung to her skin.
Request For Cessation Cannot Be Granted Once Processing Has Begun. Processing Will Become More Pleasurable Once You Accept Your Place, the Voice continued, Redundant Memory Retention May Be Hindering Progress. Initiating Storage Format.
Emily instantly understood what this would mean. They were trying to change her, whoever they were. It seemed impossible and laughable, but she was in no mood to disbelieve or laugh. She had to free herself, she had to fight, she had to escape. She squirmed to the best of her ability as adrenaline raced through her system, her heart rate beginning to rise once more as her flight or fight instinct fuelled her.
Just as quickly, an earth shattering wave of euphoria saturated her awareness, paralysing all conscious thought and instinct.
Emily blinked at the void, moments later, hours later, waking to find herself weak, spent and drained. The lapping surged up and down the length of her legs, the tide reaching her thighs. The substance seemed to have a slight numbing effect, it almost felt like parts of her flesh were swelling in response to it’s contact. Fear pierced her once more as she realising just how effectively they had neutralised her previous resistance.
The lapping substance reached a little higher and her eyes widened as it caressed her exposed sex for an instant, before receding once more. She drew in an airless, shuddering breathe at the sensation. The sense of arousal from the contact seemed to be increasing. She anticipated the next wave, but was surprised as the surging substance pushed against her mound, forcing itself into her slit in a sudden thick torrent. It surged into her deeply, filling her more completely than she’d even felt before. The scowl on her face glazed over at that thought.
The substance continued to climb or was it that she continued to sink? It coated her well formed ass, she found herself imagining years spent at the gym fading away as her ass was encased in the swelling pleasure of the thick substance. The waves relentlessly cascaded upward. engulfing every bit of flesh up to her belly button; the tingling pleasure was overwhelming her senses, making it difficult to form coherent thoughts. Inside her body the substance continued to pump deeper.
State Your Name And Place Of Origin, the Voice required.
Her ears tingled; the communication was more pleasant and feminine. It sounded different, like there were two slightly desynchronised elements.
“I am…. I am from…. My name is…. I’m going to… I…. Let me out.”, the girl struggled against the distracting pleasure of the substance coating her body. Every time she tried to respond a wave of ecstasy would rock her and she would have to start afresh.
She felt the substance crawl, ooze, flow up her chest. She felt it filling her insides, her lungs, her veins. Her chest heaved in momentary panic, she feared drowning in the sticky substance, but as her chest continued to rise and fall in rhythm it suddenly felt so silly to worry. It seemed silly for her not to trust the liquid, it would provide. She had to accept.
With that, the girl shuddered in near orgasmic bliss as she realised for the first time that she could no longer remember her name.
Subject Has Failed To Provide Identification, the Voice stated in a dissonance that washed over her body and permeated her insides like the substance, Subject Will Accept Designation EM171.
Pleasure cascaded over her, the thick liquid now lapped and caressed the flesh beneath her generous breasts. She squirmed in rapture at the sensation, so easily accepting the command. Her designation was EM171. The Voice in the void had told her so.
Remnants of Emily screamed and howled in frustration, unheard though the storm raging within her mind, she could feel thoughts and images slowly slipping away as she tried to focus on them. Memories of her apartment, her family and friends, all seemed to dissolve into static as the substance continued to pleasure her body. It felt as if she were becoming something different, something else was slowly replacing her, it was difficult for her to form coherent thoughts under the continuing assault. The tiny part of her will that remained swore to fight and escape whatever they were doing to her. In a rush of euphoria the mental tempest tore the last vestiges of Emily from her mind, leaving only fragments of resistance.
Unit EM171 Must Not Resist Pleasure, the Voice said in sweet synthetic tones that echoed in the girl’s head. She found her own mental voice imitating the diction and syntax of her captor. EM171 shivered at the mental cries of pleasure each time she found herself repeating the phrase. The substance now enveloped her chest and upper torso, working its way down her arms and hands. Her breasts felt lighter, the mounds became buoyant as they were filled from the inside by the intrusive substance. It supported and caressed her, both inside and out. She felt the substance start to pleasurably swell within her chest, her skin tingling as the thick liquid overfilled her breasts causing them to grow much larger.
“Unit EM171 will not resist pleasure,” She mentally whispered as the intense sensations continued to wash over her, “Why would EM171 resist pleasure?”, she asked herself as the feeling ebbed for a moment, suddenly confused as to why the thought of resistance would even occur.
Listening to the Voice brought pleasure and it would assign her function after processing. “Pleasure is acceptance. Acceptance is bliss. EM171 will not resist.” The thoughts swirled through her consciousness as she found herself helplessly mimicking them, her own inner thoughts beginning to sound as artificial and unnatural as the Voice in the void. The substance crawled up her neck, comforting and pleasuring her flesh. She felt the substance rise inside her throat, filling her sinuses as it adhered itself to the lower half of her face. She shuddered as it finally coated her lips, feeling them swell, thickening, pushing open her mouth. The substance crawled across her tongue and she tasted it. It tasted warm and oily.
Ripples travelled through the liquid as she finally begun to drown. EM171 felt detached from the feeling, as she now understood there was no more reason to breathe. The beautiful pleasure in her mind rippled in discordance and made her smile. Her chest stopped moving as she discarded unnecessary habits and let the substance flow and permeate the last parts of her being.
When she became completely still, an audible moan issued from her swollen lips. It was synthetic; the edges of the sound were sharp and metallic. She blinked slowly in surprise as she heard herself, like a baby does when it experiences self-awareness, not even noticing as her jaw locked in place. She tilted her head slightly, confused for a moment until the Voice assured her that she had always sounded that way.
That thought put her mind at ease as the substance began to finish its work, she moaned at the slight sting of the material filling her eyes. The rest of her head was consumed, inside and out, the substance now completely surrounding her body, it finally sealed itself with a noticeable trace of heat down her spine.
Processing Complete, the Voice stated blandly, System Activation Imminent.
EM171 felt her entire body shudder with orgasm as the process finished; she could feel every sensation over every inch of her skin and the substance. She was unsure if there was even a difference between the two anymore. She felt the cable detach itself from her spine and suddenly she could move without restriction. She immediately brought her hands to her face trying to rub at her eyes, everything felt slick and featureless, she ran both hands down the front of her smooth body, moaning quite loudly in pleasure when her hands rubbed over her enlarged nipples.
“Unit EM171 online.” she stated aloud in her new synthetic voice, jaw unmoving. A flash of light caught her peripheral vision, then another, slowly her entire field of view was filled in by progressive scan lines. She failed to register any surprise at the false colour of the world she looked upon, not finding anything remarkable about her new ability to see beyond the visible spectrum into ultraviolet and infrared. The unblinking stare from her lidless eyes was one of calm contentment; she could no longer blink, nor did she need to. Her vision flickered as the boot process ran self-diagnostics, it was a new but familiar process to experience as her feet made contact with the metallic tiles of the floor. She swayed for a moment, the stance feeling awkward before she adjusted her footing.
She looked straight ahead, and she saw… it.
It stood before her, a shiny black featureless face returning her stare. It lacked ears or eyes, the smoothness only broken by a wide open, almost fetishistic mouth opening. It’s lips swollen and affixed into a permanently inviting shape. Its skin was gloss black, almost reflective, like freshly polished latex.
It was undeniably female, with unnaturally large breasts pushing out from its slim torso, as if challenging gravity. The narrow waist flared into wide hips and thick womanly thighs, which EM171 estimated to be accompanied by a well proportioned behind, hidden from her sight. There was no modesty in its nakedness, exposing it’s swollen glossy black vagina to her. It’s sex seemed engorged and ready to take any form of penetration. It stood on what appeared to be impossibly tall ballet boots, the heels themselves a single piece jutting from it’s legs as if they were actually part of its body.
She tilted her head and she noted it mimicked her smoothly.
EM171 shuddered, it did the same.
It took a moment of internal processing before she…. before it…. realised it was looking at a reflection of itself.
“Unit EM171 prepared to receive assigned function.” it said in it’s synthetic monotone, any trace of humanity wiped clean from it’s memory.
Going to save this and read it over and over again because it’s utterly perfect.
