Strange Queens Ch. 04

'But I left that day with the purpose of finding Chelsea, and I haven't done that. I owe her my life and I won't rest until I find her.'
Rachel sucked in a big breath, puffing out he chest, before letting it out again slowly. 'So how do we find her? You already checked everywhere you thought she could have gone, and that was much closer to the time. If you didn't find her then, where will we start now? I mean, how do you even know where she could be?'

'She's been kidnapped. I know it.' Jordan said firmly. 'She'd have come for me if she wasn't. Something happened that made her want to stay.'
'Are you sure about that?'

'Absolutely. I'd bet my vagina on it.'
Rachel idly rubbed the intricate, swirling carvings on the small, delicate golden ring she wore on her left hand middle finger, the ring she'd been given by Katrina, at both their picking. The gold was for her hair, the black intricacies her deep and complex intelligence. It was like wearing a piece of Katrina, and she loved it with all her heart.

'So where do we start? Remember we were taken too. If we could be kept out in the desert, nestled inside the hill, there's nothing to say she couldn't be somewhere just as remote. I bet our cells couldn't even be seen by air.'
'We didn't start here as free girls,' Jordan said. She stepped away from the fire and strode casually around the big table. 'When I arrived, Chelsea had been here for a long time. We were taken by a rather unusual mental expert named Eliza Roberts. She owned this place, privately, and it's her inventions down on the other levels that are both the reason for us being here and the reason we now live here. We were subject to a lot of experiments. This isn't my first body.' Jordan finished. Rachel blinked. 'huh?'

'It's true, this isn't my first, my real body. It's made of the same DNA, the same cells, sure, but my body is hanging in a suspension chamber down in the storage rooms, encased in a frozen carbon shell. There's a device that Roberts was testing on us that replicates a person's physical form entirely, using the process to inject its own genetic code when it rebuilds the mind and the physiology. She was working on utilising it as a tool to quickly and effectively create a completely submissive slave, a subservient recreation of a person with the ideas and desires all built into their very mind, from the ground up, so there's never any chance of them being anything else, before or after. It's in their very genetic structure, if you like.' Rachel was staring now.

'She'd managed to get the mind part down fine, though both Chelsea and I found ourselves latching on to each other more than onto her. It wasn't truly perfected, I suppose. But, one day, Chelsea found herself in the chamber about to be processed and enslaved when Roberts, well, fell in with her and their two minds were combined as one.' Rachel's jaw was slack by this time. 'Instead of creating someone who wasn't Chelsea and wasn't Roberts, it sort of combined them. Since Chelsea's body was in the chamber first, it must have been calibrated to her, so it rejected Robert's form and kept hers. But Roberts's mind is in Chelsea's, making her sort of super-extreme bipolar.

What's more is that she isn't dormant. The Roberts part of her mind can awaken at any time. In fact, it has before, and she tried to kill us, or at least hurt us.' Jordan touched her scar lightly. She could still remember finding Chelsea with her arms and chest gashed. 'She had inventions, tried to use them to subdue us. One particular dildo-based hypodermic designed to deliver a concentrated serum right to one of the biggest arteries in the body nearly turned my mind into a slutty slush, and we managed to turn it around on Roberts at the last moment.'
Rachel looked at Jordan for a long few moments as she talked before she stopped and looked back.

Rachel checked the time quickly and pushed herself off the bench. 'You're putting a bookmark right there and saving the rest of this for me,' she said firmly. 'When we get back I want to hear every single detail and I'm not going until I've heard it, okay?'
Jordan snorted and put her hands in the air in mock surrender. 'Okay, okay. Full story after this is over. I'll get Chelsea to vouch for me.'

Rachel picked up her jacket, a thick, warm coat, and swung it over her bare body, zipping the front up to the top, stashing her bosom away once more. 'I'll be back in a bit, they're across town but I should miss the real peak hour rush. Can you let me down to the garage?'
The girls entered the elevator and Jordan keyed the basement, stepping out only a few seconds later with Rachel. She stepped over to her car and pulled her keys out of the massive jacket pocket.
'You sure you don't want to take one of mine?' Jordan shouted to her, but she shook her head. They waved, and as Rachel backed out and started up the tunnel Jordan keyed a button on the wall by the lift, remotely opening the gates that shut off the tunnel in the middle. As Rachel rounded the gentle curve uphill, she passed the thick circle encompassing the tunnel walls, from which the sides and centre of the gate re-emerged shortly after her, clunking back together.

Jordan returned to the top floor living space in time to see the compact little car reach the end of the tunnel and leave it behind on the live camera feed, watching as it twisted away up the dirt track. A final camera hidden in a thick bush at the end of the dirt path, where the exit met the mountain freeway, showed a low angle shot of the wheels of Rachel's car as it stopped before it sped away down the road.

Jordan flicked off the monitor and it idled, ready to turn itself back on as soon as a camera detected unusual movement outside the facility. Casually she flicked the knots on her bikini undone and let the pieces of fabric fall off her, discarded on the floor, returned to her nakedness. She stepped over them and made for the couch.

Then, out of nowhere, like a flashing migraine hit her, Jordan's hands flew to her head and she sank dumbly to her knees, shaking. Her legs bent inwards as she drifted to the ground until she was sitting on the floor. She could feel her mind pulsing, feel waves of a familiar fog washing about in her skull as her own thoughts were pushed aside and others entered her, others she didn't recognise. They swum about, unknown, moving this way and that around her brain, interacting with her in ways she couldn't analyse while they were forcibly occupying her. She could feel her heart pounding and her legs quivered. She thought she detected arousal seeping through her, slushing up her conscious and leaking out of her, but she couldn't know. She couldn't know anything, not while her own brain was being used by other thoughts that weren't hers. She clutched her head as the unknown intruder invaded her very being. It didn't hurt, but it was unbearably uncomfortable.

Then in a flash it was gone. She opened her eyes and her heartbeat returned to being her own and she panted, breathing huskily. She felt like everything in her body had been taken from her control and then dropped back on her again. She didn't move for a few moments until she knew it was gone, carefully taking stock of her body. She was slumped on the ground, her head still swimming a little, her muscles twitching, but she was her and she was okay again.
Standing, she stepped over to the couch and perched herself on it, in the living half of the enormous room, and sighed.

Not long now, she thought in her mind, flopping back into the soft cushions. Not long now, baby. We're coming. I'm coming.

* * * * *

The clit stimulator buzzed quietly in Tiffany's cunt as she sat butt naked inside a stark, clean waiting room. She looked about calmly, her back straight as a board, her hands resting open-palmed on her thighs. She seemed totally calm and peaceful in the room, her eyes wide and focussed, casually flicking this way and that.

Bright and blue, Tiffany was blessed with what mother's clubs often referred to as a Twilight girl's beauty, known also as a Dawn Girl Dream. Long, wavy dark hair flowed out from her head, the hair of the night, but two crystal blue eyes shone out from her beautiful face, eyes of the brightest of day skies. She had a small, pouty mouth that showed off her lips and a thin, elegant nose. Her jawline stood out in model-esque definition and her thin, sexy frame showed off her clear, milky white skin.
Petite, with perky apple tits peaked in firm, thick pink nubs and large puffy areolas, Tiffany's stomach was flat and thin, her six pack of muscles barely visible in her stock straight position. Thin, tall-girl legs extended from her slightly wider hips and a hairless, pink little pussy nestled between them, her lips parted, her generous labia visible with the smooth pink vibrator hooked inside it. It gently massaged her clit while its internal arm reached deep into her and thickened out, a firm, buzzing mass quietly maintaining her proper arousal. Her calves were thin and feminine and her legs ended in two perfectly sized, unblemished feet. Her toes sat on the thin carpet relaxedly.

Tiffany didn't think much. She wasn't thinking at all, really -- her only real thoughts were the repetitive chant of instructions that had been there, looping over and over, for longer than she could remember. Like the foundations of her being they were structured and rigid and sat quietly in her brain, shaping and guiding everything she did and leaving her mind otherwise sparse. Her brain was like that of a toddlers, learning the basics of life from the simplest of instructions.

Tiffany had been taken here a little over an hour ago after her operation had been completed. They'd quickly run a few tests and checked to see if she was responding correctly before walking her here and sitting her down, slipping the vibrator inside her and turning it on before they left. She hadn't really noticed any of it, simply let things happen around her. These were not actions she was programmed to respond to. The white coated people performed their tests quickly and disconnected her from the contraption that had single handedly transformed her entire being, standing her up and walking her unresistingly to the waiting room. The device still in her body had been slipped in sometime during this, perhaps before she'd arrived, perhaps when she had been sat down. Then, in an instant, they were gone, and she remained sitting exactly as they'd left her. A small silver briefcase, the reinforced kind like those used to carry weaponry or sterile medical supplies, sat on the seat next to her, closed. She ignored it, simply looking around with a childlike curiosity, unmoving.

*

Albert woke up lying flat on a bed of some kind. His eyes fluttered open and in moments he felt more or less completely awake. He sat up and looked about, seeing himself in a small recovery sort of room. He was lying on a hospital bed and there was a drip in his arm which he proceeded to gingerly slide out, a rivulet of discoloured blood falling from the needle. He looked about himself again, but he seemed fully dressed and otherwise completely unchanged. He cast his mind back, but all he could remember was entering a dark, empty room. There was nothing else.
He figured, after a few moments, that he must have passed out in there. Someone had found him where he wasn't supposed to be and taken him to where he could be left to wake up.

Pushing the arm of the bed down he swung his legs off and stood easily, stretching his arms up into the air and yawning. He felt a pang down his front and he put his hand to the area, cupping himself tenderly. Then, it was gone, and he was left confused.

Still, he decided not to stress about it and, remembering his father and the stricken Chelsea, strode to the door and left the room, his discarded drip hanging limply by the empty bed.

*

Chelsea looked about herself, sitting up, her hands on the bed behind her. The paddle-armed lab coat retreated, as did the other closest her. Quickly, her hands went to her body and felt everything, as though she was checking to make sure everything was there.
Everyone stared, and no one spoke a word.
'Who are you?' Paulo asked her firmly. Her eyes swung to him instantly, locked with his. She didn't speak.
'Who, are, you?' He demanded again. This time, she replied quickly and calmly.
'Chelsea Hargreves.'

'What do you remember?'
As he spoke, Paulo quickly gestured to the two lab coated men around the bed, who quickly dashed to a tableside case of syringes and prepped them. She watched them pick up her arm and clinically discharge them into her blood stream in rapid succession. Her eyes spun to Paulo, pleading him, begging him like a puppy, though why he didn't know. He stood there, by the bed, staring into her wide, blue eyes as each syringe pierced her soft skin and emptied itself into her.
'Who are you?' She asked him. 'Where is this?'

Paulo stumbled, just for a moment. But she saw it.

'This isn't home...' she muttered, somewhat disorientated. She looked back at her arm, saw the injections. She seemed to rouse at this. She sat up straighter and lifted her other arm, beginning to shout, saying 'Hey, what are you doing to me?!'
But as she did so the world seemed to haze over with a clingy, foggy film. Slowly, as the third, female lab coat propped pillows up behind her back and head, she slumped back against them, her eyelids half closed.
Her last sight was of Paulo, leaning over her, filling her vision.
Then she was gone.

*

'Was there any need for sedation?' The female asked.
'Don't question my decisions.' Paulo bit back. She dropped behind a step.
'Sir, is there a plan for her from this point forwards? We should maintain her here in a stable environment for further testing,' the taller, older lab coat man said. 'If she requires it we can reinvigorate her brain or if you prefer we can restore from a mental backup-' But Paulo's hand hit the air.
'She's coming with me. No debate.' Paulo said.

The small crowd was striding through the corridor towards the reception desk, Paulo in the lead, his three lab assistants shadowing him like lost puppies.
The three rounded the corner to the reception desk to find no immaculate female face with a small, formal cap on her head to greet them. It was late, but every desk in the facility was manned twenty-four hours a day for any eventuality, and, given that reception here wasn't your usual appointment-making toss-off, the receptionists held very important roles connecting the different locations strewn about the expansive compound. Administration was always being done in this place.

Paulo strode up to the counter, the sounds already hitting his ears before he'd reached it. There, behind the desk, was the receptionist, her skirt up around her neck, her hair messy and splayed all over the floor as Albert, Paulo's own son, vigorously and animalistic-ally rutted her. Perched low, one knee on the floor, he had one of her legs over his thigh and the other beside him, her legs spread wide. He'd lost his pants, if he'd had any, and a shirt hung loose from his shoulders. He grunted as he fucked her, pumping himself with an angry, lusty force. She could be seen bucking on the floor, her breasts shaking. Her eyes were squeezed closed and her mouth was wide. As Paulo walked up, he saw her legs come together sharply around his sides and her whole upper body tensed. She sat up instantly, her back shaking, and in a second her hands were on his face. Her face could be seen flushing as her eyes rolled up into her head and she gripped him with her legs as she clenched them in orgasm, shaking and shuddering uncontrollably.

Hunched over her, Albert rammed into her with long, final thrusts, audibly filling her to the max, wet slapping sounds marking each deep thrust as his balls hit her ass. As they came, they could see Albert lifting her up, see dripping cum underneath his crotch. The short, mousey brown lab woman, behind everyone else, put a single hand to her mouth, doing her best to ignore the sudden burning, irresistible desire she could feel awakening with a furious energy deep inside her behind the tightly locked chastity cap attached to her groin. More like it was her groin, she idly thought with angst, as she watched the furious love making. She'd tried everything, and it only opened when authorised, or when she needed to piss. And only an access flap at that. God how she wished she could be fucked like that. Ugh...

'What the FUCK IS THIS?' Paulo shouted. Albert's grunting continued as he came inside her, but the receptionist's eyes returned to the present world and she slowly focussed them on him as she shook. Eventually she took in the boss of bosses glaring down at her and realised what was happening, and she struggled to get away from the man in animalistic heat, but he gripped her hips with lust and kept pounding her until his ejaculation was well and truly finished. She just clung to him and watched her boss, occasionally shaking again and rolling her eyes as she came around him again.

Though the whole thing took maybe a minute after they'd arrived, it felt like an hour, for both parties other than the oblivious Albert. Eventually he pulled himself out of her with a sucking sound and she dropped limply to the floor, her whole body revealed as Albert stood up. They could see her red and sopping cunt bubbling cum as it gently pulsed in time with her rocking hips. Her labia had been stretched wide and it rolled internally with orgasmic spasms. From their angle, the crowd could see right into her widely expanded depth, see her stretched labia gently clenching. Slowly, drops of cum rolled out of her, dripping onto the floor under her. The metallic yellow housing of her flap was still embedded in her skin, the blue flap part open wide, sticking up over her stomach. Like the receptionist earlier, no fixings could be seen for the metallic fixing, and yet it looked much like an extension of her groin, as though it had grown there since her birth.

But then all eyes were on Albert as he slowly turned to them. Tall and calendar-fireman ripped, he bore an enormous cock that hung out before him like a black man's member. But it wasn't your average meat pole. This one bore small, sleek piston-like devices embedded in the sides, and showed a row of gently glowing rings underneath the skin much like the ribs on normal penises. Perhaps eight or nine inches long and four or so wide, it stuck out before him firm and thick. Ever so slightly, with robotic movement, the opening in his tip clicked and widened, and a spurt of semen shot out the end.

This wasn't all the enhancements, either. Apart from the ripped body and mechanically upgraded manhood, small mechanical piston-like attachments stretched from the base of the shaft into the groin and a small, three-pronged device wrapped his testicles, reaching around their top and underneath them like a ball ring. It pulsed slowly and could be seen gently animating in and out, as though it was massaging his sack.

His eyes locked on them, and he seemed ravenous, frenzied. His bulging arms tensed, and his gaze locked on the tiny female lab coat by the men, her short but buxom body looking like a fine conquest. She took a step back involuntarily, as tiny, needle sized arms extended from the tip of Albert's robo-cock, spiralling outwards, six or eight of them, as though they were preparing to grab for the woman.

But then Albert saw Paulo, and his raging, greedy eyes faded, and he stood up straight, his cock retracting itself to a small but still respectable flaccidity in one seamless, mechanical procedure.
The two didn't say anything for a moment. Albert looked back down at the mostly naked woman behind the counter by his leg, at her dazed form and spreadeagled legs. His penis twinged ever so slightly, unknown robotic shapes visibly clicking in and out under his skin, warping it symetrically. Then he huffed and strode out, passing the group, striding off down the corridor, his cock swinging. One of the men swallowed. The female nurse let out the breath she hadn't realised she was holding.
After a few moments, Paulo spoke.