Strange Queens Ch. 04

'You.' He addressed one of the men, the older one. 'Find him, get him dressed, get him under control and get him ready to fucking leave.' The man went.

'And you, get her cleaned up and sealed up and get someone else on duty. She can finish tonight off duty.' He instructed the female. She nodded quickly and went to the girl's side. Paulo didn't miss the flash of disappointment that passed -- instantaneously -- across the other man's face. A part of him had wanted to be the one cleaning up the freshly fucked and dazed girl.
'You.'
'Sir?'
'Get my car ready for me. We're leaving. And find Tiffany.'

*

Chelsea didn't speak as they bustled about her. She didn't speak as she was helped off the bed and dressed, sliding a pair of lose but warm track pants over her legs and a thick jumper around her top, underwear-less and shoe-less, only sliding thick woollen socks on her feet. She crossed her arms across her chest as they helped walk her out of the room and down the hall. She looked for all the world like a sullen, angry teenage girl. A beautiful stubborn girl whose parents had not let her go to the ball.

It had been about half an hour since she'd regained consciousness. As soon as they'd sedated her, one of the lab techies checked a constantly running specrographer, a device named because it took graphic readings of the entire medical spectrum -- heart beat and rate, blood pressure, brain wave activity, neural synapse burst rate, toxin levels, blood sugar, blood pressure, physical integrity, emotional automation, the lot. And it did it wirelessly. He'd boggled when he'd checked the readouts for the last five minutes, his eyes flashing up to the bed as the blonde girl settled down into the pillows and drifted off to sleep.

'You'd better see this, sir.'

Paulo had been shocked, too. Records were made, paperwork was scheduled, readings were taken -- quickly. A living, thinking woman with no heartbeat, no brain activity, and no emotions.
This one would go down in history, if it ever left this facility.

He'd double and triple checked his charts, analysing the brain wave and morphosic structure. She had brain activity alright, and a lot of it, firing several million individual neurons per second and emitting Alpha, Gamma and Omega waves at the seventy-nine to ninety-two per cent margin, signs of intensely focussed, powerfully driven thought. It was like her brain was a V12 engine firing on all cylinders, flames blowing out the exhaust and a deafening boom of power as it revved. She was firing on all cylinders alright, and doing it without blood pressure. The problem was that it was all wrong, all out of wack. It was most definitely not human brainwaves, or at least not any that had been seen before.

but then there had been a blip. Short and fleeting. They'd all stopped, looked up. It came again, and then again. And then, like magic, there it was, a clear, crisp blip echoing out from the speakers, a firm and powerful line striking out each beat of the woman's heart. Blood pressure immediately rocketed up and her heart rate steadied out at a hundred, very high for a stationary patient.
'Sir, I'm absolutely shocked,' one of them said. 'Even if arrest was halted there was very little chance of full cognitive retention, but to not only survive, but to animate under zero over zero, to function without the need for more oxygen, and then to keep on functioning mentally until her heart started itself... this is incredible. This puts Segmund's Ossification theorem to bunk, throws Normont's theory of Human Mathmatics out the window. This breaks the laws of the universe and lives to show the family back home pictures.'

That had been while they'd strode out of the recovery room. Paulo ignored him and turned as they passed two white coated attendees, a man and a woman, both tall and very attractive.
'Get her woken up and dressed to go, and compile every single detail and administration record and samples of all of the above for me.' They both nodded quickly and turned into the ward.

'Wait.' They turned before they entered. 'When all her data is collected, delete your copies.'

And so here she was, with her arms folded tightly under her chest, shivering slightly, long warm clothes hugging her naked form. She glowered outwards, her face dark and impassive. All her energies were cast inside her mind.

She was Chelsea, that much she knew. She stood here, in this strange hospital ward, dressed by white coated men and women and stepping away from a gurney bed, and everything felt off. Completely, off. Not just strange, or wrong. No, this was off. Off in a way that she couldn't describe, as though something was wrong but she didn't know what. Her body felt off, her mind, off. The place around her felt off, and the people too, and so did her clothes. Everything felt off, and she didn't like it. Least of all was her mind. Things swum about in it she didn't like, things she couldn't identify. Thoughts, patterns, ideas. Things that set her body tingling in different ways that, again, she couldn't describe as anything but off.

Everything was just... Off.

*

Chelsea turned the corner to the reception desk where Paulo stood, dressed in the same clothes he'd arrived in, a pair of gold-framed deep black glasses over his eyes despite the night outside. It was late, perhaps midnight, and only the stars and half the moon shone out through the thick, stylish full glass front of the building. Beside Paulo stood Albert, dressed up in a long, professional shirt and khaki pants belted up tightly. His front bulged, his shirt visibly tight across his chest and his pants pouting a large protrusion in their front. Beside him, in a long, wide robe, stood Tiffany, her long and curling dark hair hanging loosely and sexily around her soft, white shoulders. She appeared to be completely dazed, or utterly relaxed if not that. On Paulo's other side, a short, widely curvaceous girl who could only be described as nerdily cute stood, clutching her clipboard close to her full bosom and looking somewhat nervous for herself. Wide but by no means fat, the girl's body seemed to be the best kind of trade between height and prettiness for busty, ballooning curves. Chelsea stepped up to them, and Paulo reached out gently and brushed a strand of long, golden hair away from her cheek. She seemed to warm to the touch.

'Hello, Chelsea.' He breathed softly, gently. He seemed to say it with all the kindness and warmth in the world, and Chelsea didn't notice the mousy brown girl ever so slightly stiffen. Chelsea maintained her gaze downwards, her head twitching slightly at his words. Like an upset teenager, Paulo bent down and put a hooked finger to her chin, raising it ever so slightly, shushing and cooing as he did so. Slowly, her gaze lifted up until it met his own, and she looked deep into his wide, hypnotic eyes.
'It's okay, it's alright. You're safe now.' She looked at him silently.

After a few moments, Paulo gestured in the air before he turned and pushed the door open. Biting, blasting cold air rushed in and snapped around Chelsea's ears, chilling everything that was exposed and making her feel even more bare inside her thin single layer of clothing. With a gentle hand on her back, Paulo led her up the path to a wide, thick paved driveway, circling around a stylish water feature sided with engraved stones. A black car stood on the path right in front of her, lights off, gently turning over. A stylishly dressed chauffer stood by its side, opening a door as they approached. Paulo gestured to allow Chelsea to step in first, and she did so without reservation. Paulo followed her, and Albert stepped around and got in the other side. Tiffany stood impassively, like a dog waiting for her instructions. She got in after Paulo.
They rode away in silence for a while.

it must have been perhaps half an hour before Paulo spoke, and by this time they had hit a wider bitumen main road. No one passed in either direction.

'How do you feel?'

'Fine, Master.'

'What do you remember?'

A pause from the blonde. 'Very little.'

'The last thing being?'

Another pause. 'The chair in the office. Paperwork.' Her speech was plain and flat, neither energised nor restricted.

'Yes, I remember that mess. What do you think happened?'

A long pause this time, as the blonde girl looked out the window with her head on the cold glass, her arms still crossed in front of her chest tightly. Eventually she responded.

'I don't know.'

Paulo let a few moments pass in silence again before he continued.

'Do you still think of me as your Master?'

'Yes.'

'Do you think anything has changed since last time you remember thinking that?'

'No.'

'Is there anything else inside your head that tells you otherwise?'

...

'Chelsea?'

'No.'
'I see. Good.' Paulo seemed to move about, the rustling of fabric on fabric audible as he got comfortable. After a moment, he looked at her and patted the seat by his side. Slowly, somewhat tentatively, she turned her head from the outside world and looked at it, then at him. Then, she shuffled over in her seat and nestled up against him.

The black car drove away into the still night, and no one spoke again until they arrived home.

*

'This is hopeless, there's nowhere else we can try!' Brianna said frustrated. She stepped out of the lift as soon as it pinged and strode around the corner to the couch, plonking herself down on it and swinging her legs up. Amanda, Rachel and Jordan followed, each picking their own corner of the twenty-four piece lounge suite to relax upon.

It had been a long seven hours. Rachel picked Brianna up at four thirty, along with her girlfriend, Amanda, from a class just around the corner from her place. They'd driven back to Jordan's hillside retreat and Rachel had done her best to ignore the sounds from the back as the girls became too excited to be together and begun to make out.
Although she appreciated the sensation -- it was only recently that, previously having been slightly warming to a buff, gentle boy from her classes, but now fully gay and freshly turned nudist, Rachel had felt this love lust herself when she'd spent two days without seeing Katrina. Shy and incredibly beautiful with a brain and a half of smarts, the sexy blonde had had to return Rachel to her dingy apartment across town while she got her life back in order, chasing down her classes and making calls that were long overdue. Rachel had never felt lonelier, and more locked on one single, ever-present lust for sensation, before in her life. The kiss she'd shared with Katrina had lasted long into the night, but it was that kiss that lingered on her lips and dared her to even try to think of anything else. It was a lust like no other.

But despite this, and despite finally knowing what the two in the back were feeling for each other, Rachel could only feel her own need for her partner as she saw and heard the lovers moving to it. She could only lock her eyes on the road and pray to god the wet sounds were only their upper lips and not their lower ones.

Once they'd arrived, Jordan had filled them in on her plan. Katrina hadn't been able to come today, having had to return to her classes after begging them to let her continue them. They'd sworn her to a week of diligent attendance with extra time each afternoon, and given her a month to catch up to prove she hadn't wasted their time. Rachel had encouraged her to follow them when she'd nearly broken down telling her, upset to tears that she was choosing classes over time with Rachel. "Don't worry about me. There will always be time for us to spend together, no matter what. These classes end, we will not. Go and enjoy them." Rachel had told her, her heart rushing when the girl had calmed almost instantly over the phone. "You mean it?" She'd asked like a little girl to her mother, and Rachel had affirmed it. The girl's happiness hearing that she cared so much filled her heart more than the hole it left knowing that she'd just cut off more time with her girlfriend. That's what love is about, she thought. That's what it really means.

So Jordan had told the four of them about her predicament, explaining how she herself had a partner, a girlfriend, Chelsea, and of her unusual flashes. She explained how she'd gone missing and how she's tried to find her, omitting the details on her own capture, knowing that the group of attractive lesbians needed no further encouragement for arousal. She'd already allowed a no clothes rule, and Amanda and Brianna were looking a little hot and twitchy already. Description of her capture wasn't a need to know.

But she did tell them about the moment she'd seen the dark, tall man in the block of shipping containers, and Rachel had piped in when she'd heard it with a fleeting memory of her own; a glimpse of a profile as she'd been hauled back to her cell all the way back in the hillside. She'd seen the same man pick someone like her, someone she'd never met and would never see again. She couldn't help but hope the girl was doing alright. They'd all decided the best way to start looking for Chelsea, initially, would be to check the most obvious locations.

The team hit the suburbs first, finding Chelsea's old apartment. It was dark and empty, and Rachel had checked it out for Jordan, who hadn't really needed her to but hadn't been able to do it herself. The lease sign out the front said all it needed to.

Next, they hit the districts, checking out Chelsea's old work, her favourite pubs, and even her clubs. Though they'd found some interesting places, no one had heard from her in months. Only one tender remembered her clearly enough, and he'd shown only confusion and dismay when he'd realised the women were apparently looking for her themselves. He'd given them a business card and they'd moved along.

It had taken them the best part of the day to search, unsuccessfully, for the missing girl, and they'd retired back to Jordan's for the night. Jordan moved about, quickly lighting the stylishly modern natural fires in each of the four corners of the uppermost entertainment room of the house and the large hearth in the centre. Though all automated, she liked setting them herself.

'It's hopeless,' Brianna said, sighing as she threw her shoes off her feet and picked up a controller sitting on the table by her luxurious resting place. 'We're supposed to find one girl in this whole city. Even if every single person was out on the streets when we passed them, we'd still be searching for a needle in a cunt-stack.' She said, dejectedly. Amanda perched herself by her spreadeagled legs.

'I have to admit,' Rachel added in her deeper tones, 'it does seem somewhat impossible. I mean, look at us. Just a few days ago we were locked in cells inside a mountain, in a property hidden inside the mountain's overhang, hours out of the city. They'd never have found us if they looked, even if they'd sent a squad of choppers on the search.'

Jordan didn't respond.

After about half an hour, during which Brianna and Amanda had played on the couches while Jordan and Rachel shared some sandwiches, the girls left. Rachel volunteered to drive Brianna and Amanda home, since she'd picked them up earlier, and they'd departed through the secretive tunnel entrance a few minutes later, leaving Jordan once more alone in her enormous modern mansion.
She sighed as she stepped up to the cold glass window, dejectedly placing one palm on the pane in front of her as she leaned on it. She gazed out over the cool night, down at the peaceful city and its twinkling lights. Everywhere she looked down there in the bowl of the mountains, millions of people were settling down to bed, children being read stories, youngsters running about the house, teenagers struggling with the throes of puberty, and adults of all ages tucking in with a book, a wine, or just their partner. It all seemed so happy and calm, and so very disconnected from Jordan.

You're down there somewhere... Jordan thought to herself, projecting her words outwards across the wide expanse of humanity. I know you are. I can feel you. I'll find you, don't worry. I will.
She stayed like this for a while, letting her forehead rest on the warmed glass pane, staring down over the naked city as bare and shining as her own unclothed skin. She didn't move, and didn't speak. She just thought.

Eventually, with a deep, rolling sigh, she turned from the glass and pressed her butt against it, leaning back on it. She tapped her thigh idly, then pushed herself off and stepped over to the flat end of the thick partially dividing wall cutting down the centre of the room, on which several small, sleek panels were mounted. She tapped one of them a few times before pressing her finger casually into it, a gentle, intelligently toned note issued out from the space around her. Silently, a large section of the ceiling on one side of the room nearly against the window slid seamlessly out from a recess in the ceiling, revealing an elegant, glass-walled sleeping chamber. A thin carpeted floor adorned the inside bottom, even boasting two matching bedside cabinets and a clever slimline book case on each one against the wall. The sleeping chamber slid down on four long, flawlessly buffed telescoping arms forming each corner of the unit, clicking gently into place two feet off the ground, a glass sided box with fashionable bed and cupboards. It even featured a small pipe and tap running down the inside of one of the telescoping arms, an equally gleaming metal tube hanging just over the far cupboard. A glass stood underneath it, waiting.

Jordan stepped up to the chamber and, with a whisper, a section of the glass wall simply slid up and away into the ceiling, into the space it had been occupying while stored away, forming a clean, barely visible doorway. From the floor underneath the now opened doorway two seamless platforms raised on hydraulics, sliding out of the ground silently to form twin steps that allowed access into the cell. Jordan casually stepped up them, one at a time, without any rush at all. She placed one foot inside the glass walled room, then stepped up with the other. The steps slid back into the floor behind her, and, once she was clear, the glass panel returned to its position effortlessly, sealing the entryway and showing not even the slightest hairline crack to tell of its existence.

Jordan gently parted the sheets and moved the pillows about before she turned back the cover entirely and simply climbed onto the bed, face down, tucking a few pillows under her chest and lifting her boobs into comfortable positions. Then she just looked out the window, out the now two layers of gently warmed glass that were almost completely invisible, out at the world down below. From in here, it was as though she was outside, only the wall closest to her and the ceiling and floor edging her peripheral vision. Once she eventually turned over and relaxed back, her hands on her stomach, she could look up and out at the sky through the clear glass roof adorning the ceiling, a skylight view only tinged by the non-glass interior ceiling that housed equipment just like this.
Though it took her many, many hours, she eventually fell asleep, having hardly moved at all, the stars twinkling down impassively at her.

*

Jordan and Chelsea's house: The Roberts Estate, Unit 1, Freemount Highway Express
Private housing listing #4019627, protected establishment act 2001 clause 6, state privacy authorisation #33454649, Civilian Exemption Certificate express authorised UFN, public liability testament NA, criminal investigative record log NA, governmental policy exemption UFN