Strange Queens Ch. 04

It was about 2 AM, and the city -- and Jordan's lonely house -- were silent. The room was dark and only the next-to-silent sound of the heating warming the glass and floor could be heard. Gently, far down below her, the lights of the city twinkled. One of those lights, she found herself thinking, was coming from the bedroom of Katrina and Rachel.
She felt like an asshole for doing this. She really did, it was part of the reason she was so nervous. She'd called her friend again, woken her and her partner up in the middle of the night to come and help her find her own friend. Not only had she woken them both up, but now they were going to drive all the way up here to go with her while she desperately searched for Chelsea. But the truth was the partners were her only friends, and the only two people she had in the world. Plus, they were the only people she felt she could trust, even over Brianna and Amanda, who were nearly an hour the other direction away from Rachel and Katrina, let alone the mountainside dwelling.

The truth was, she was worried and on edge. She'd been lying here in her bed for the second lonely night in a row when she'd felt something, felt a wave of thoughts washing through her. It was a sensation she recognised, a sensation she hadn't felt for months on end. It was the sensation of her Mistress. As quick as a flash she was out of her bed and down the steps, rushing over to the phone and punching Rachel's contact before she realised what she was doing. After the fourth ring, she picked up.
Now, she was on her way. No choosing to turn back anymore.

Quickly, Jordan prepared herself. She gathered up a few flashlights, some warm clothes, and some sandwiches from the other day for breakfast. Then she raided her supplies, chucking matches, rope, a low profile Taser and several other possibly useful things together before packing them away quickly. As she zipped up the pack, a gentle, source-less chime rang out around her and the monitors in the two halves of the room flicked on. They showed the camera feeds, all ninety-six of them, before gathering and expanding the tunnel entrance feeds, eight consecutive cameras intuitively labelled in order of the approaching vehicle's direction. Jordan watched the view as a grainy car turned onto the conspicuous dirt path to her retreat, leaving one camera as it slid onto another feed.

As the car pulled through the tunnel and neared the gate, she pressed her thumb calmly against the smooth, unblemished pad on the wall and saw the mechanical gate sealing the tunnel retract. The car shot through easily, and she reapplied her digit to close them behind her visitors. Once they were inside, Jordan's head tilted slightly, as though she'd had a thought. Hurriedly, she dashed at a boob-bouncing run to the stairs on the far wall and was down them to the next level. She snatched something out of a pigeon hole on the wall before returning up to her preparation station. On the screen, the girls were about a hundred metres away from the underground hangar.

Chucking the full pack into the open lift, Jordan grabbed her pants and pulled them on, doing up the belt around her waist -- pantie-less. Dark cargo pants, lose and full of pockets. Then she threw a thick jumper around her shoulders as she stepped into the lift and casually flicked her finger against a flat, flush section of the wall. A glowing display shimmered to life, indicating the ground floor selection. The twin doors slid closed silently and in five seconds she'd descended five levels and was stepping out the lift to greet her friends.

Outside, Rachel pulled Katrina's car into an empty spot and stepped out, her muscular body clad only in a thin, figure-hugging tank top and pants. Chilled nipple could be seen piercing her front, though she didn't seem to care. She looked tough and sexy in the tomboy-ish look, her hair now cut short on top and lightly shaved on the sides. Katrina, for her part, was equally as attractive in her more feminine way. She stepped out, long track pants and twin layers of long-sleeve and short-sleeve shirts on her upper half with a thick, deeply coloured parka vest. Her long, golden hair swung loosely about her shoulders as she moved and her two intense, golden gazing eyes flicked about with focus. The two girls strode up to Jordan, who met them by the stairs.
'Hey.' Jordan said. Rachel leant in and gave her a brief hug, Katrina following suit.

'What's up? Did you feel her again?'

'Yeah. I know she's close. She has to be.'
'But where? We went through this last time. How can the three of us find her in that city?' Rachel asked her, firm but gentle, her hands by her sides. Katrina's were in her pockets, and she stood somewhat introvertedly.

'Because I have this.' Jordan said, holding up the device she'd snatched last-second before. A small pack with what looked like the insides and screen of a tablet computer, coupled with a battery and array of cables and coiled wire, two thin coloured leads reached out to a pair of glasses. The glasses bore two small wire extremities reaching out of the arms and many tiny protrusions on the lenses. It looked like a strange sort of mind device, as, once in place on a person's head, the two small tipped wires loop into one's ears and the clear protrusions aimed directly down into one's eyes. Jordan held it high.

'it's an early prototype Chelsea was working on while she was able to channel Roberts's intellect,' Jordan told them. 'This can detect and analyse the brainwaves of nearby people and channel them into a frequency that can be detected by the senses. Light and sound, in other words.' She tucked the bulky part between her knees and held up the glasses. 'This is the display, emitting the detected brain pattern into the subject directly via raw input. This here,' she switched for the tablet half, 'has a powerful antenna and is rigged to display the feed as it returns to the device. In short, it can find who's nearby, analyse their brain waves and then pump them into someone else. Chelsea wasn't sure yet whether it would be more effective as a brainwashing tool, a perception alteration device or just as a plain old souped up scanner. She was never able to test it on anyone but me and her, and since I'm already her slave, I don't really react any more than normal to her mind inside mine.' Jordan ignored the look Rachel gave her as she held the device and studied it. Katrina's gaze was more impassive, though she spoke up as Rachel examined the tool.

'How will this help us? And who do you expect to wear it?'

'I will. Since I know how she feels, I'll know when she's nearby. Then I'll put on the glasses and you channel the nearby brain patterns into me. If I don't change, it's Chelsea.'

'And what if we channel the wrong patterns into you and you get lost, or wiped, or anything else?' Katrina shot back, folding her arms. Jordan blinked.

'Well, I suppose we be as precise as we can and hope no one we use this on has a dominating, controlling force when we pass them.'
Katrina looked at them both. Rachel nodded to her, then handed the tool back to Jordan.

'If you're sure you can handle this, then fine. We're here to help you, and that's what we'll do. But, I want you to make sure you tell us everything there is to know so we don't get surprised.'

'I will. I promise. On the road?' Jordan asked.

*

Stretched out on the passenger seat of Rachel's car, with the backrest lowered right down and the seat back as far as it would go, Jordan sat with the device as the girls patrolled the city. Katrina sat on the back seat, the device control box on her lap, wires reaching up to Jordan's head where the glasses sat over her eyes. Gentle lights pulsated underneath the lenses, oddly hypnotic lights. Katrina did her best to ignore them. Rachel was driving.
'Nothing?' Jordan asked, her voice husky.
'Nope. That one hasn't come back.'

'And we've been around that block four times now,' Rachel added. 'If she was here, you'd have felt her stronger by now.'
Katrina turned some small dials on the side of the display down to zero and the lights on the glasses slowly faded away. Jordan's breathing seemed to increase, become more visually evident. After about ten seconds, she seemed to tense herself and sit up, gingerly lifting the glasses off her face. She ran a hand over her eyes.

'I tell you what, the hypnosis cycle sure is tougher to surface from after prolonged, repeated exposure.' Jordan said. She sounded tired, drained.

'Are you sure it's safe for you to keep going through it?' Rachel asked her, looking quickly at her.

'Yeah, it's safe. The cycle is just a preparation mode, like an alcohol swab before an injection. It's, harmless, just... Ugh, tough over and over.' Jordan said drowsily. 'I can feel the suppression seeping deep into my brain. It's making me just want to go to sleep and let my brain be cleansed for me.'
Rachel didn't speak after that, but Katrina took the glasses from her. At Jordan's questioning look, she put the device down beside her and shook her head.

'No more for you. We do it the same way you did it at home. If you feel her, we'll see if the device can find her. We both need a rest for now.'
Jordan didn't argue. She sat back and sighed, crossing her arms. Katrina leaned against the window, blinking. Her eyes were getting sore from the light of the display.

The girls had been driving for a few hours now, and light was beginning to peak its first rays above the rooftops and roadways. They'd been driving around the suburbs of town, and in that time Jordan had had two flashes. She'd wanted to start with the glasses, but quickly found herself being lost inside the brain patterns of random people they passed. After a quick reset, they agreed to only use the glasses when she felt something. Unfortunately, Jordan hadn't told them about the hypnosis cycle, and the girls had left her nearly ten minutes before Rachel realised she was out cold, staring off into the lights and slumping further into her seat. A quick slap and stroll in the biting cold night had reversed the effects, returned her nerves to her and sufficiently reduced the dampening in her pants, and they'd continued. Since then, however, there had been no further leads.

Jordan sighed. They'd rolled down a few main roads and around several blocks for twenty minutes, and, short of her lonely, depressive boredom, she was back to normal. Katrina had drifted off in the back seat, her head resting against the window. Rachel felt a little sorry for the cute young female, given how hard she'd been pushing herself with her work just to catch up. She didn't deserve the lack of sleep, and yet she'd never let them go without her. She was Jordan's friend as much as Rachel was, and she would rather stay up most of the night than not help her. Rachel smiled admiringly as she drove. Despite feeling exactly the same way herself, she found it an absolutely selfless and caring trait, and she was proud of Katrina for it. The sensations only helped to endear her more to her girlfriend, and, to some degree, to warm the cold night drive.

* * * * *

'She hasn't been the same since the facility.'

'Neither have we, you know, Dad.'

'Yes, but you are still you, and Tiffany... She's, well, a new Tiffany. But Chelsea was Chelsea, and the Roberts incident is someone inside her. Someone already embedded in her head. Now that she's gone... I don't know how it affected her. I don't even know if she's really gone, proper, or if Chelsea is back.'

'I'm not sure how Tiff is the same, she's a fucking slave girl now. Much as I love that, part of why I liked her was because she was such a mean, dirty slut. Now she's just a robot with a vagina. Tiffany's vagina, yes, but just a pussy on stilts.'
... 'Did you bother reading the documents they gave you from Kepplin?'

'Yeah, sure. Course I did.'

'So you know about her Switch then.'

'Yeah. Wait, what switch?'

'You didn't read a single sheet, you dickhead.'

'Dad, don't hide this from me. What switch?'

Paulo sighed as he prepared himself, putting his phone, wallet and other necessities on the table. 'Part of Tiffany's processing was a new image. Her brain was wiped with her own metabolic extract, DNA rich body fluid that could be programmed to mould her from the inside. They created a fresh start, a fully grown, fully functioning, completely pliable adult woman. Totally submissive, totally obedient, totally controllable. A pet pussy. But they didn't just wipe Tiffany off the board. Boy, the entire purpose behind this particular reconstruction process is to completely and totally wipe a human being of their humanity, making a horny, brainless shell, whilst being able to reinsert that person's entire mental image again post-process. You get the brand new body, the fresh brain paths, but -- if you're willing to pay for the process, or if you're me -- you can get the personality put back in. Tiffany's still inside that body, Albert, she just has to be switched on. Tiffany's switch is part of what was in her case.'

Albert didn't move for a moment. 'You're serious?'

'They would have told you all this if you didn't wander into that fucking dart cell and get yourself sedated. They thought you were one of the patients escaped. You were supposed to be taught all this shit before we left, fuck me.' Paulo looked at the boy beside him as he clasped his watch around his wrist. 'Oh go on, go check it out. I'll be back in a few hours, alright?'

Albert was already out the door. 'Okay!'
'And don't make a goddamn mess in here, alright? Just keep it to your room!'

'OKAY!'

'I don't know why I put up with him, sometimes.' Paulo mumbled as he slipped his phone into his pocket and swung his thick dark coat around his shoulders. Stepping up to the bedroom, he cracked the door open slightly and peered in. Chelsea sat naked on the bed, facing away from him. She was still.

'Chelsea? Baby?' He called softly. She didn't react. 'C'mon, hun, it's time to go. We've got those things to do, remember?'

Slowly, the naked figure stood up and went to the cupboard. She took out a top, pants, and a jacket. Paulo closed the door behind him and stepped outside, sighing. She definitely wasn't the same Chelsea he'd known.

Paulo stepped off his small porch and across the dirt road to his shabby looking shed. Bending and throwing the roller door up, he revealed a far less shabby interior with six sleek vehicles in it. On one side, dark, sexy sports cars sat, low and prowling, large, beasty spoilers and glinting gold wheels ready to fly. On the other side, three less obviously pricy -- but still powerful -- cars sat waiting. Paulo picked a deep purple car with sleek, unblemished profile and swung himself in. The door hushed closed behind him on a mechanical motor, and as he placed his key down in a specialised grove on the side of his seat, the interior lit up with a glowing, sourceless light.

Waves of colour washed across the dash, and a hidden, ten inch view screen slid out of a recess and rotated into position. It showed login screens which quickly validated themselves before revealing a list of comprehensive tools with everything from total blackout mode to speed mode to emergency blinkers. Under the back seats, a row of speakers sat, and all along the headboard above the windows ran a channel for air conditioning. As Paulo slid it into gear, it rolled effortlessly through the open door and crunched onto the dirt road, thick, stylish alloy wheels breathing extreme luxury.

As Paulo rolled out of the garage, the door opened in the house and Chelsea stepped out, now dressed. She dropped down the steps carelessly and strode over the dirt path, the door to the car opening on its own as she approached. She sat, and the door closed after her. An arm with the seatbelt on it reached subtly around her slender frame and clasped itself to another outstretched arm holding the locking receptacle, before the device gentle retracted, pulling the belt taut around her form. Paulo watched her.
'You okay, honey?' He asked her. She nodded at him. He nodded back, grasped her head gently with one hand and leant them together, kissing her hair. Then, he put his foot down and the car sped away, rocks flying behind it as a sleek, mechanical spoiler rose into position on its flank.

*

'You haven't spoken much since you left the facility.'

'I just haven't had much to say.'

'That's not really like you, Chelsea.'

'Look, I'm still your slave, alright.'

'I wasn't asking about that.'

'What else matters?'

Paulo bit his lip for a moment. What else did matter? He cast his mind from the question to the questioner. Something had been different about the woman, no doubt about it. But what was it? Obviously Roberts was inside her mind, and Roberts had been in control for the few days between resurfacing and being purged at the Kapplin Facility. But the old Chelsea, the Chelsea Paulo had fallen in love with, the spunky, cock loving, full-of-life blonde who talked a lot, worked hard and worked his length harder wasn't the same as the brooding, dark blonde who sat beside him. She still had the same breathtaking body, and still had the same voice. But it wasn't Chelsea who spoke to him. Or if it was, it wasn't the one he'd come to claim as his mortal subordinate so long ago in that car by the city.

'Look, Chelsea. We took you to that facility to get her... That other person, Roberts, out of your head. She was controlling you, and worse she was overpowering her surroundings, taking control of everything she could. She turned my son's girlfriend into a horny, subservient slut, a woman who creamed her panties whenever we mentioned Roberts, a woman who snuck away from my son's side night after night to creep in with Roberts and give herself to her. I don't know how she did it, and I'm not quite sure how exactly she managed to make her paint the walls each night without us hearing it, but they did, and we were beginning to think the woman was lost forever. But you... You are still Chelsea. I knew you were still in there. Not just from that night you tried to leave, that night you fixated yourself on me like that, but I knew because I could feel you. I could feel you inside her, begging to get out. And I knew we could free you.'

'Well maybe I didn't want to be freed.' Chelsea said quietly.

'I'm sorry?'

'Perhaps it would have been better if you left us alone.'

'Chelsea, what are you saying? What are you suggesting?'

'Nothing.'

Paulo tried to argue, but Chelsea, on an impulse, turned her bright, wide eyes to him and locked them deep into his. Slowly, she ran her hand over his leg until her fingers brushed over the front of his pants. Casually, she lowered the fly on them and slipped her fingers lightly over the top of his underwear, immediately finding the thick head of his manhood. Casually, she began to twist and work her fingers around and around just at the base of his helmet. She pulled herself close and rested her head on his side, and absently his hand went around her shoulders. She sighed as his eyes returned to the road. He had more to say, but he let it rot on his tongue for a while.

Just hush and drive, she begged in her mind. Just drive and let me milk you... Master...
As his rod stood to attention before her, her other hand joined in to stroke his shaft, and she began to edge her fingers, pressing them underneath his helmet, enticing every nerve in his sensitive tip into overdrive.

At this sudden a turn on, it didn't take him long. No man can resist the sudden sensation of a woman eliciting his cum from him out of the blue. She carelessly placed her lips over his head as he came and she bobbed, catching his thick spurts in her mouth and licking him clean somewhat lovelessly, but thoroughly nonetheless. After she had sucked him dry, she gently lifted herself off him, a trail of spittle and semen still hanging from her lips and dripping onto his red tip, and tucked him away again, returning to her seat. She casually wiped her mouth with her sleeve, and then everything was normal again.