**Author's Note: The story is a work of fiction and fantasy. All characters are over the age of 18 and belong to the author along with the creative framework and writing of the story itself. Please do not repost or redistribute without the Author's express written consent.
Or at least as close to it as possible.
It really is more of a sentiment then it is something I can physically do any more.
I used to be human.
Now I am just a machine, a tool, a device. A piece of property.
Ages ago, humans were bought and sold as property. Then the practice was outlawed as being barbaric. Now in the 23rd century our sentience is bought and sold. Most of the sentient minds that are sold are done so to pay off debts that may out live you. In some highly illegal cases they are sold as punishment for disobedience to one of the many corporate syndicates which run the world I live in. Or lived in.
I have plenty of time to wonder why I was sold. I should have been cloned and had my sentience reapplied. Instead I was sold. I don't know why. My parents were wealthy, powerful, and influential. We didn't have debts and we didn't associate with the less moral portions of society. There should have been no reason for me to be sold. I should have been joined with my new body prior to reawakening. But I'm not. I'm in a factory.
The factory- the one where the androids are built and where sentience is applied. I don't want to be droid or a robot or anything. I just want to be Aryn. What's that buzzing noise?
Darkness- thick impenetrable darkness.
I don't want to be here. I don't want to be here.
Why don't I want to be here? Where am I? It's loud. And cold. Where am I?
I don't like it. I'm scared. I really don't want to be here. I need to get out. I can't move. I can't move!
That noise- it is so terribly familiar, what is it?
Darkness falls across our subjects mind once more.
I can see! I can see! I could always see. Why is that so special? I'm in line. What are they doing. Are those heads?
Why am I in line with a bunch of heads? What are those Drudges doing? I must run! I must get away.
I'm a head! I don't have a body….
Stop! Don't touch me! They don't hear me! Why won't they listen? Don't touch me!
What are you doing to me?
Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep.
What is that noise? It's in my head. Get it out! What are they doing to me! I want…. Someone….. I want….. I don't know. I can't remember. Someone please, someone if you can hear me, help me. I'm not supposed to be here.
No, not in there. Not through the doors. Not back into the darkness. Please! No! Not again!
I can feel again. I have a body. I think I do. It is strange. Too big. This is not my body. It doesn't feel right. I remember my body being smaller. Not this big. I can at least feel it.
But feel is not the right word. I don't feel it. I know it. I logic it. It exists, somehow, I know it.
I'm moving again. Something is moving me. I think I'm tied to something. What is it? Why can't I move my body? This body. Why can't I move it?
What is through those doors? I don't want to find out. I don't have a choice.
Hundreds of them. Thousands of them. What are they watching? What are those people doing? What is that woman saying? Are they mating?
This is disgusting. I shouldn't see this. I won't watch it.
A spark dances across the subject's vision.
Ow! That hurt! What was that? Crap! That hurt. How long will this go on? I can't watch this.
Another spark dances across the subject's vision.
Crap! That was worse then the last. They're hurting me. Because I won't watch this, they're hurting me. That's not right. I won……
An even brighter spark traces her line of sight.
Ahhh! Fine! I will watch! I will watch. Just don't hurt me again. Please.
What in the world is she doing? Why would she do that? She's licking something. It's strange, I don't have one of those. At least I don't think I do. I didn't, I think.
He seems to enjoy it. So does she… Who is that man? Where did he come from? Oh, he has another one of those things. Oh! He's putting it in her hole. She really seems to like that.
That feels good.
I'm feeling good. Why am I feeling good? What is that inside me? What's in my mouth?
Its strange- there's nothing there. But it tastes, salty? Yes, I believe it is salty. And warm. Very warm.
She's moving her head on his part. Maybe if I…
Yes. That feels better. Me moving my head like this…. Mmmm… That is good…
If I do this... Yes… Even better. Faster is better.
Very good, that feels very good.
Wait, don't go! It was just feeling good! Come back!
Shoot. I was just feeling good.
Uh-oh. I'm moving again. I don't want to move. Where am I going?
What is that noise?
Darkness envelops the subject.
I don't remember.
Something happened. I remember something. Watching something. Tasting something. What was it? That damned noise.
Where am I now?
I see others. Others like me. We're on racks. There are hundreds of us. We're moving. Where are we going? Who is that man?
He has a uniform on. Obey uniforms. What is he doing? He's taking his uniform off. Human. Why is he taking his uniform off?
He's touching her- one of them like me. Why is he touching her? She doesn't want to be touched. He's not in uniform. He's not the One. He's not supposed to be touching her. She doesn't belong to him.
It's that thing! The thing! It feels good! Oh, I want it! Please, me, me!
He can't hear me. I can't speak. He's putting it in her. She must be so happy. It must feel so good to have that thing in her. I feel warm just thinking about it. I want one in me!
What's he doing? He's been at it for three minutes eleven seconds. Oh, he's stopping. He must be done. I don't think he was supposed to do that. Only the One is supposed to touch us.
His uniform is back on. Obey uniforms. It's dark in here. Where are we going?
Time passes at a steady tick for the subject- she is infinitely aware of every passing second. But then her time comes.
Finally! Me, they're taking me! I never thought I would be chosen. I get to find out where I'm going. Here. Where is here? I am standing. I'm not on the rack. They've put me down on my feet. I'm standing. Move!
I can't move! Why can't I move! I'm finally free of the magnalocks. Let me move! It is pretty here.
There is green. I had forgotten green. I believe it is a plant called grass. The shelters are smaller here. Not like the… Like someplace I can't quite remember.
Who are they? She is pretty. Is she the One? I hope not. I want a thing. He is the One? Oh, not him either.
He will surely be dead soo…..
Harsh pain drives through the subject's cranium.
He must not die. He is the One. If the One dies, then I am nothing. But he is very fat. Not at all like the One's from…. From my memory?
He is old too. Old like humans. But he is the one. The uniformed man is pressing something on my scalp.
Obey the uniforms.
"What are you," says the uniform.
"I am sentient replication #104056AZ3. Version 2.1. Playmate model." My voice! I can hear my voice! I just spoke! I can speak! How wonderful!
"What do you want to name her?" The uniform is talking to the One.
"Aryn. We want to name her Aryn." The woman does not like this. She does not look happy. But the One is happy with this name. I am Aryn. My name is Aryn. I like it. It seems comfortable.
"What is your name replication?" The uniform is speaking to me again.
"My name is Aryn." My voice again, it is sweet, innocent, playful. It is programmed to be such. I like it!
"I am the One. You will call me Father. And you will call her Mother. Is that understood Aryn?"
He is the One! I have my own One!
"Yes, Father, it is understood." I love the sound of my own voice.
"Go inside Aryn."
"Yes Father." I must obey. He is the One. I must go inside. I walk quickly up the steps to the door. The one called Mother walks with me. She says something. I do not register it.
In my control center I run the data back and magnify the audio.
"I'm so sorry Aryn. There is nothing I could do."
Interesting. I do not know what she means. I wait for the One. He is speaking with the Drudge who delivered me.
Mother does not look happy. She looks quite sad, a human emotion. I do not compute my response well. Sympathy, I think.
"It is alright Mother. I am happy to be here."
This statement does not have the desired effect. She is worse. Her heart rate is rising, my sensors tell me. She is more unhappy.
The One is returning. I must not make him unhappy with me.
"Let me show you to your room, Aryn. Up the stairs please." Mother seemed unhappy with this statement again. Why was she so unhappy?
As I marched up stairs I could hear the pair of them following me. I tried not to eavesdrop, but I was desperate for the One's approval.
"She looks just like her, but older," Mother said.
"Yes. Quite pretty isn't she?"
"You're disgusting," Mother replied.
She should not speak to Father that way. He is the One. One must not speak back to the One. I could feel Father's breath on my leg and I felt a familiar warmth beginning to grow. Oh, how I hoped that it would not be a long wait.
I stopped at the top of the flight of stairs and waited. Father pressed into my backside as he walked by.
"This is your room," he said indicating a room off the hallway. The wall that ran with the hallway had been restructured with glass. No doubt to keep an eye on me. Father was obviously quite pleased with it.
The room was inviting, and like my name, seemed comfortable- familiar even. There were soft pinks every where and all the toys a little girl could have wanted. But as a sentient, I needed nothing but to please the One, Father. A small vanity stood in the corner. Along with the bed it was the only piece of furniture to speak of.
"Go sit on the bed, Aryn, Father needs to talk with Mother."
I did as instructed, my eyes straight ahead and my hands resting on my bare knee caps. I was dressed in a checkered pleated skirt and white blouse. My knee high stockings were slipping a little on my shapely calves. I would need to ask permission to adjust them.
Directly across from my seat, the sentient in the mirror stared back at me. She was quite pretty- blonde hair, blue eyes, full pouting lips, and a ripe bosom. The eyes seemed strange to me- artificial. I cocked my head and she cocked her head. I enjoyed the game of moving my muscles and watching the sentient respond in the same. She looked like a younger version of a woman I had seen someplace before.
My thoughts would be interrupted by a yell. And then another one. Once again, my curiosity got the better of me and I turned up the volume. The yells were Mother. Father was punishing her for something. For me?
I couldn't make out much, but for Mother begging for no more. I would have to ask what was happening to her later.
Father would tell me, surely he would. He seemed quite pleased with this model.
Hours would pass and eventually the shelter would grow quiet. I amused myself by playing with my settings, turning up and down my volume, testing the sensors which helped me to monitor my world.
At some point I had forgotten my directive, to stay seated and wait for him, Father, and had stood moving in front of the entertaining reflection in the mirror.
When Father entered, I immediately knew I had done something wrong.
It was not that he looked displeased. In fact he looked quite gleeful. There was something else. I had disobeyed and he wanted to make sure I knew it.
I waited silently, until spoken to, as any good sentient would do.
"You disobeyed me."
"Why did you disobey me?"
"I grew distracted waiting for you to return. What did you do to Mother?"
"The same thing I am about to do to you. She disobeyed and now you have as well."
I was nervous. I had done something wrong, on my first day. What a terrible sentient I was. My sensors started buzzing in new information, communicating to me Father's emotion. His heart rate was up. He was excited.
"Bend over the bed, Aryn."
"Yes, Father." An imperceptible shift upward occurred. He was excited as I moved towards the foot of the bed and place my hands in front of me. I bent at the waist and let my hands and upper body slide forward over the pink comforter.
My face was buried in the sheets, my visual sensors unable to detect Father any longer.
Darkness again, but now my sensors kicked in gear, filling the sightless world with useful information. I can hear most everything and the best sign is Father's heavy breathing.
Oh wow! Maybe my contact sensors are turned up to high! Father is pushing my skirt above my waist. His touch is electrifying. He said he was going to punish me, but his hand is softly petting me. That warmth! I feel it! I am doing well!
His hand is gone. There's a change in air pressure. He is going to punish me.
He is strong for his appearance. It is painful. I've been bad.
The warmth won't go away though. This pain is… good?
Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank!
Yes. This pain is definitely good.
"You've… (spank) been… (spank) a bad… (spank) girl…"
"Yes Father. I've been very bad. I am sorry." Should I tell him that this feels good? What would he do to me then?
"This feels good…" He's stopped. Why did he stop? Maybe I shouldn't have told him.
"Oh, you're such a naughty girl. Such a very naughty girl indeed."
My audio sensor pick up the sound of rustling and unzipping. He is undressing. If this is my punishment I must be naughtier.
"Now you're in for it. Oh you better believe you are. Look at me," he commands.
"Yes, Father," I answer as I raise my head and look back at him. He is as fat and old as ever, not in good health at all, but his thing is huge. Visual sensors indicate approximately fifteen inches in length with a circumference of eight inches. Slight scarring on the root. It has been surgically enhanced.
"This puppy cost me twenty thousand. But worth every penny. I give it all to your Mother when she is bad."
Human females are not adapted to such size like we are. It must be an excruciating experience for her.
"Do you want this?"
"Yes, Father, I desperately want it!" I can feel the synthetic lubricant filling my channel. My body is as prepared as it ever will be. And that warmth has not gone away. It buzzes in the back of my mind. My mind. Where did I learn that?
Father removes my underwear for me. He lets them fall at my ankles, and I do not kick them off. My naked backside is up in the air. It feels cooler suddenly. The lubricant is leaking onto my lips. If he does not use me soon, it will spill onto the floor.
I feel the tip now. It is… Oh wow! It's huge. It's even stretching me. But it feels so good! Wonderful. I can't believe its temperature. I feel like I am on fire.
"Oh, Father, it is wonderful."
I hear Father grunt in agreement as he pushes more of his thing into me. It feels perfect. I feel complete. This is my purpose. I repeat a phrase I have seen in my head over and over.
"Fuck me, Father, please fuck me."
"Yes, daughter, I've been waiting so long too."
And he does. Father fucks me like the naughty girl that I am. My body must work hard to keep up with the size of his thing. It is too big and my lubricant practically pours from my sex hole. His length and width fill me completely, I can feel my skin pulling away from my body as he slides backwards.
That warmth. It continues to grow in my mind. Oh, it is so good. This feeling is wonderful. I love Father's thing. It is perfect.
"You like that baby, huh? You like it?"
"Yes, Father, it is wonderful!"
"You're so tight, Aryn. I always knew you would be so tight."
"Yes, Father, I am designed to be. I will always be tight for you, Father."
My audio sensors magnify all the new noises in the room and I fear that I may be lost to reality should this continue much longer. His thing is slurping out of my sex, barely able to fit back in. I can tell from the pulse in his member that he is close. So close. I must serve my purpose.
I work my hips back on him. This is what is required. I take more and more of his massive thing into me, trying to devour it entirely with my sex. That warmth is getting to loud. It is overriding my sensors. It is burning. Something is about to happen.
"ERIC!" It is Mother's voice. She is unhappy.
Father is also unhappy. He continues to pump the thing into me, but he is not paying attention any longer.
"Get your dick out of her! She's your daughter for God's sake!"
Dick. She must mean his thing. But what does she mean by daughter. It is a phrase that references human reproduction. A female child or offspring. I am a sentient. I am not offspring.
"Bitch! I told you what I intended to use her for. And you won't stop me. In fact, you'll join in."
"Father, no," I cry as his Dick pulls free of me. I want the burning sensation to return.
I hear mother let out a moan of sadness at my pleading.
"Restrain your mother."
"Yes, Father." I do as commanded. As I rise from my position, bent over the bed, my lubricant spills down my thighs. I kick my panties off of my ankles and step towards mother, my skirt falling back into place.
I hear Father chuckling. He sounds happy. Good.
Mother does not look happy. She is not the One, however. I step towards her again, yet she does not move. She simply whimpers.
"Aryn. Aryn. What have we done to you." She will continue to whimper this phrase over and over again as I seize her arms and pull her in tight to my body.
Mother is my size, almost exactly. Her breasts are smaller and her body bears the signs of human aging. I would estimate that she is thirty-five. Much younger than Father.
My titanium under framing, well-hidden by real and artificial human flesh, locks her in place. I have her restrained. I wait for Father's orders.
"Take her downstairs, daughter." His voice is lower now. There is an emotional edge to it that indicates anger.
Mother still does not struggle as I lift her form her feet and carry her down the stairs. I am not accustomed to this task but I manage it well. Her weight is one hundred and ten pounds. At five foot seven she has a very low body fat index. She is fit.
The lubricant on my legs is distracting, and that buzzing persists in the back of my head. What is it, I wonder. If it is a malfunction I will have to be serviced soon.
At the bottom of the stairs, I stop, waiting for my next command. Father is the One. I must obey Father.
"Tie her to the coffee table."
Coffee table. Scanning reference databanks. A low, flat piece of furniture used in a living room to serve beverages and food. Sample images run through my head.
"Yes, Father." I carry her there and push Mother to her knees in front of it. She is whimpering again. She knows what is coming. I wonder what it will be.
"Use her clothes to tie her up," Father gleefully utters.
"Yes, Father." I do as ordered. I tear her clothes from her, there was no reason to be gentle. I then use them to bind her arms and legs to each post of the table. Her arms are pulled tight apart and her thighs are spread painfully away from one another. Her human muscles are visibly stretched by the position.