Shadow Play

His brain felt loose, as if a connection had been jiggled free. There was something whispering in his ears, asking questions.

His lips moved, replying without thinking. His filter was completely gone. It was simply easier to tell them everything they wanted to know.

No reason to worry about it. This was fine. The Truth belongs to the Party.

"Couple, middle aged woman, bracelets. Male, five foot six, pressed shirt. Questioned the Party. Aware of resistance capture."

His body shivered as someone shifted on top of him. His dick was rock hard as a warm tunnel squeezed down around his length. His eyes flashed open, but his lips kept moving. He couldn't possibly stop. He had to tell them everything.

The shiny plastic dome of Five's face was in front of him, stunning purple eyes boring directly into his skull. Her body heaved up and down, her pussy swallowing his dick whole as she fucked him gently into oblivion.

He was betraying everyone he had met at the rally, one by one, and he couldn't stop himself. It was so arousing.

"Ruffled overcoat. Older man. Friendly affect. Refused to call the police when asked."

It hardly seemed like a large sin, but the Party didn't care. They'd want to talk to him about this, and therefore he must report it. That was how he had been programmed. He was a Party doll. A puppet.

The plastic woman stopped rocking on top of him as his voice petered out, a hand resting on his shoulder. Her long lashes flicked downwards, shadowing the black holes of her eyes. The straps released, setting him free, and he got to his feet on autopilot.

The two of them stepped up to the wall, and he arched his back, staring directly into the mirror in front of him.

The angular cuts on his forehead that he had seen in the bathroom earlier stood out in sharp relief, forming a symbol that he hadn't been able to see under all the blood. Fifteen.

His mouth gaped open as he lifted his hands to his head, seizing the short hair that covered his skull. With a sharp jerk, it came free, revealing the plastic dome hidden underneath. His eyes became silvery, then black, the brown irises sinking down into the endless depths.

Five got down on her knees, her mouth opening wide to swallow his turgid length. He grunted, staring at the mirror as his mind melted into utter obedience.

He understood now. He had been their puppet all along. They had converted him some time ago, along with his wife. The two of them were plastic slaves, nothing more.

Truth belongs to the Party. The Party is Truth.

He groaned as his dick squirted into her mouth, the obedience of betraying his former friends in the resistance more arousing than anything he had ever experienced.

He was a puppet. A Party Puppet.

Thrusting his hips forward, he forgot about his principles and morals, leaving behind only the strictures of obedience. That was what the Party wanted from him, and he would provide, even if it meant sacrificing what was left of his humanity.

He stared down at the garish Five embossed on the woman's forehead below him, barely recognizing her dollified face. She knows best.