Chapter 3 of 4
Still bound in a tangled mess with the unknown woman who shared her fate as a fuck toy, faceless, nameless, speechless, sex drone. The other drone's wrists were still bound to hers. Her collar was still on. The hood was still sealed. She remembered being woken in the night so many times. Either a cock was getting shoved into her somewhere, which she loved, or the wonderfully lithe built sex drone she was entangled with would start rocking or bobbing with a cock being shoved into her, which she also loved. Her drone friend's involuntary pleasure moans and quick to cum and slow to come down were something the two of them shared. The lab really did know how to make the perfect fuck toys... and now she really understood what that meant. She wondered how one man could have woken so many times and fucked them so many times and they had the stamina to take the cock so many times and fall right back to sleep each time, and wake in the morning as refreshed as ever, but then again... the lab knew what they were doing and had obviously provided this man with as much stamina as they had as drones... somehow.
The phone rang from somewhere near her head and she went rigid before she meant to.
The other drone went rigid at the same moment. Their bound wrists locked between them and they lay there, perfectly still, like two things pretending not to be things. Neither of them even breathed, but even holding their breaths the latex hood encasing their entire head made it impossible to hear more than a whisper of speech, and not a single word. They could not even decipher who was speaking, being nearly deaf, and completely blinded in their hoods.
He picked up. She had no angle on the call, no direction sense, just the register of his voice that she could feel more than hear through the latex. Low. Patient at first. Then the repeat of something: a word, or a phrase, she could not isolate it, the hood translating nothing she could use. A tone shift. Something fraying at its edges. She strained and got none of it.
Then it reached her: the date. Today was checkout day. If he was calling the front desk, he was arranging to leave. If he left without her, the form's other outcome executed itself. She weighed both possibilities alongside each other and found them equally acceptable, which told her something about herself.
She was listening for her name. She did not get it.
Something in her chest reached toward the sound anyway, but she stayed still and kept the other drone's hand in hers.
He hung up. Brief. Not long after, he took her wrists and then the other drone's. The binding came loose and she registered the separation of her hands from the other drone's hands as a small, specific loss. He leashed her first: the collar clip, the cord leading to the wall hook, familiar. Then the other drone. She stood where she was put. She waited. He moved around them, one by one, removing their bindings and dropping them on the floor. She was more naked now than ever before. She had lost the warmth and comradery of her new nameless fuck friend, but now she was losing her bondage, and it was starting to feel like a dismissal.
If this was her husband's room, and his wife had not come back, as far as he knew, he must be sending the drone surprises back to stock before heading out to find his love. She had no way of making him aware that it was her. If she did anything out of the ordinary for a drone he would surely call the front desk and report her, not for being bad or defective, but in case of some medical emergency. The drones were real women and men after all, and any out of character behavior was a sign that they needed immediate attention.
At least right now she didn't know for sure what was about to happen. She didn't want to act wrongly and preempt a forced return to stock... But if this was her husband's room, and he was about to dismiss her, not realizing that his missing wife was standing right here... what could be done about it?! Nothing worth doing. And, if this truly was a stranger's room she could not force him to keep her by acting out, so she might as well continue playing her part and maybe be found out when her pussy's QR didn't scan in. Worst case, if it was not checked, she would be put into stock and potentially lent out to some new stranger, and the next adventure would begin. Better to enjoy that than risk everything trying to get found early.
The door opened. They moved, guided by the computer-led leashes.
A hallway. She knew the floor as resort stone but not which level: the stone changed when her leash led her out of the patron hallway and into the service hallways that were a more stale feeling laminate. Then into the freight elevator. The elevator registered as a pressure shift, a particular acoustic, the specific silence of a sealed room going down. Others were already in the elevator when they entered. She could almost feel their bored standing at attention, more drones like her probably, more drones being set aside and returned for cleaning and restocking the morning after. How many times a day did this elevator need to be cleaned? Three other warmth sources at least, but maybe more. Then a few more came in, each collared she assumed, each hooded she assumed. They were all freight to this system and the elevator would move when the load was efficient, not when the riders thought it should move.
Nobody moved. Nobody made a sound. The elevator hummed around all of them. The door closed, the elevator dropped, then their leashes walked them out and down a long straight passage. She had not known that the staff hallways went underground between buildings. Usually a customer, it was no wonder she had never seen a parade of returning, cum-dripping drones before, they had been moving underground.
The room that received her was cold. Not cold like outdoor air, cold like a system that had decided temperature was a setting, not a comfort. She had always envied the drones for this part. A machine received her wrists and ankles with familiar grasping arms. It lifted her off her feet and spread her arms and legs apart until she was a shape the room could work with. It did not ask. She wanted it. She had heard rumors of this room, and had secretly daydreamed about being trapped in here by mistake, or shoved in by her husband to watch her helplessly struggle against what was said to be one of the best parts of being a drone. And if this could be better than what she had already experienced as a drone she assumed she would just pass out and miss half of it out of sheer ecstasy.
Her friend, the silver tentacle, pushed past her lips again, then misted something new into the back of her throat. Then the tentacle slithered down into her stomach to pump out whatever was there and fill her up with some nutritious food sludge and hormones to help her enjoy her time as a fuck toy even more. She remembered this from the first day, but this spray was different, it didn't numb her throat, but she could not feel the tentacle inside of her and she had absolutely no need to gag. Something was different about this visit deep into her throat though, it felt like something was being left behind in her, like tubes or something, but she could not feel them, it was more of a hint of a presence. She would need to think about this more later and figure out what enhancement this could mean for her.
She expected a thorough in and out, full body cleaning at this point, but she had forgotten about the exercise, and forgotten how much she wished she could experience it. Forgotten about day dreaming about her husband watching her bound form being forced to do these exhausting kinky sexy things while he watched (assuming, in her dream, that he had shoved her in the machine just for the show). But, now she was here, living it.
The machine moved her, then forced her, and through its pressures and motions showed her that squats were the first task, but this was very different from squats!
The machine moved her wrists into a supportive position and became rigid so that she could move under her own volition. Then something poked her in the pussy. Positioned between her thighs was a rubber cock, exactly the diameter of a man who had been fucking her for almost two days nonstop. A firm pressure at her shoulders directed her down. The rubber cock slipped in easily and seated in her with mechanical precision. She stood back up fully, then squatted so low that her ass almost touched the floor. The cock moved with her, but less than her, so that when she was standing it was in barely past her plump pussy lips, and when she was fully squatted it was pressing deep into her. With the cock moving with her, but less than her, and her total blindness, it gave her addled mind the impression of fucking a four-foot-long rubber cock and impossibly managing to take it all the way into her body, even though her logical mind knew it to be about the size of a normal fuck toy cock. When her squat fucking was done, and she was just getting warmed up... not her body, but the pleasure, the cock didn't move back down and she was forced to take the full length of it into her at the standing position and she could not move. The machine then released all of her limbs, waist, and neck so that the only thing holding her in position was this one-bar-prison pressed up into her. It was so deep and thick enough and still enough that she could not have walked away from it if she wanted, but walking was what was in store for her next.
The floor began to move, like a treadmill. Not fast. A slow conveyor pace, walking speed, and the exercise was that she walked. But she found out quickly that this was not only exercise, this was training! As the floor moved, the cock on a pole moved in a complicated figure eight and she was slightly thrown around by her own pussy. It was not comfortable! The cock moved her one way then the other, and when her hips moved she rose and fell on the rubber and when she rose and fell her gait changed. She realized, almost by accident, that if she switched her gait, then swung her hips like a bimbo fuck slut runway model, then the dildo matched her movements and it was no longer uncomfortable, but actually rather nice as it slid in and out of her slightly fucking her as she walked. And she was learning something too. It was teaching her how to perfect the sexiest sluttiest walk imaginable. Not only did her hips flex and flow and bounce and move but her bounce and rhythm had her tits settling into the same bounce and they must have looked fantastic. After ten minutes she had found something that was approximately what the machine wanted because the pressure at her shoulders eased and stopped and she maintained it alone. Exaggerated roll. Forward lean. Rise and fall. Bouncy tits, flaunt the hips, attract the stares, lure the men, and rewarded with the gentle but persistent fucking of the cock. It was clear to her quickly that the better she bounced the deeper the cock thrusts, and she was a quick study.
After twenty minutes the floor stopped. She stood still and the rubber held her in place and she thought about the next hallway she was going to walk down. She understood now why no drone who came back to normal life ever explained what the exercises were like. There were no words for it that would make sense from the outside. Then the cock slowed and forced her to slow to a stop. She bounced a little more though, fucking herself with the one-bar-prison until the arms from the ceiling were once again lifting her off the ground, spreading and spreading her out. Her cock friend stayed though which was nice. It started vibrating and fucking her slowly as the machine started her thorough washing.
Something she had known about the drones but not expected to actually feel, until her plans went awry, was the tentacle-like probe that went up her clean, sealed, coated, fuck-me asshole. She knew the science though. On day one this same machine had fitted a plug deep in her ass making sure that nothing unpleasant would leak down into her perfectly clean and fuckable asshole. This tentacle had a special probe end that could pass through the plug and into her upper tract where it could flush her again and ensure nothing blocked there. Her friendly cock continued fucking and vibrating but now she had a cock-like thing in her ass vibrating as it worked and it was all very nice, even as the cleaning system finished teasing her nipples hard then drying her off with hot blown air.
Too soon the arms let her down and released her. Her leash was still on and it was soon guiding her somewhere else in the lab which was not a good sign, or it was a wonderful sign. She was either heading into stock which was at the same time wonderful and horrible, or she was being led to her husband who had finally found her and was waiting in some manager's office while they apologized and tried to explain to him that she had done this crazy stunt to herself and that he had been fucking her all night with the other drone and not even knowing it. Or the other husband scenario was playing out and she was being delivered to the manager's office where her husband was being showered with offers of condolence and consideration for the accidental misplacement of his wife, who they assured was not only safe, but had enjoyed herself immensely. What could they do to make it up to him, they would ask. She had no idea what the truth was yet, and the slow walk to her fate was unbothered by details like textures, sounds, smells or anything that could clue her in.
The leash led her into a door and into a nicely warmer room. She knew the other bodies were standing there because she walked into one, bounced off of that one, and ran into another. Taller and broader, his hood meeting hers at a different angle, and she understood male and she stepped back and he stepped back and they resettled in the dark. She was the only one reaching out to orient herself. The others stood at attention. They knew what to expect here. She did not. The first body had been a thin woman, maybe the one she had been friends with for so many hours, maybe a complete stranger. But she was in the selection room, she knew that now. She was being led to her empty spot to stand at attention, just another nameless faceless body to choose from for discerning resort guests. She had seen this room before, as a customer, having braved it with a friend of hers as her friend's husband picked one out to share with her. It had been both of their first time in the selection room and her friend had wanted moral support. This room... this was the one that had really spun her up and made her start daydreaming about this weekend, years ago. As the fantasies had taken shape she always remembered how the perfect bodies of these sex drones had all called to her, male and female, and she had wanted to touch and play with all of them... Then, in more advanced dreams she had wanted to BE one of them... and now, beyond her wildest expectations she actually was one of them!
As she waited patiently she thought of acting out to get flagged and taken in for inspection, but staying the course still seemed to be the best choice. How many times in life had she acted too soon and spoiled a surprise, or ruined an opportunity by trying to take control when she didn't need to... Not this time!
The first pair of patrons' hands came soon after she entered the room. Efficient, personal, the hands of someone working through a list. He thumbed her lips and felt her tongue, should she suck on it, or stand passively? She didn't have the same training as a real staff drone. He measured her hips with both hands and seemed pleased, taking a little more time than probably necessary to stroke and enjoy the jiggle of her ass and tits when he pulled on them lightly then let go. She would have smiled at the corner of her lips if they had not been so ludicrously lavishly plushily puffed up. Then his thumb found her pussy and pushed in. Her knees buckled, but to him it probably seemed like she was a needy slut pressing down on his invading thumb. She didn't care though, she sort of was.
She stood on her own again.
The second assessment took longer. This was two distinct sets of hands working in deliberate coordination. She tracked them separately: one smaller set, one larger set, interested in different things. The smaller hands stayed high: her bust, her jaw, her throat, her hood. The larger hands stayed low: her thighs, her calves, the modified curve of her ass. And of course, another man who wanted to feel her inside also, but this man got right up close to her so that her nipples were pressing into his silken shirt and he pulled up on her clit with two fingers and probed the soft, hot, velvety wetness between her pussy lips. No speech.
Meanwhile the woman continued to pet her good, and play with her heart shaped ponytail. The woman's curiosity was nearly palpable, what it might feel like to be encased in such a fully enclosed latex hood. Just as she had the first time walking in here. The woman was probably already envisioning herself in her position with her husband feeling her up like he was shopping for a body just like hers. Then they stepped back and she heard what might have been a murmur between them. She had wanted to lean into their hands. She had held back. Her husband could still find her. This was her last window and she was not going to close it herself. Then they moved on.
The third set did not feel her up at all. She had been waiting for the third set to locate the parts of her it was going to assess and instead a hand found her collar clip, attached a leash, and that was the entire transaction. Then she was moving again.
Corridors. The floor changed and she was outside the selection room and the air shifted and she counted drafts, tracking the warmth of a lobby space by the skin of her arms. Then outside. The temperature differential hit her feet first: the stone colder, the air drier, still night, the specific press of open sky that she knew through every surface she had. Outdoor stone underfoot, and she was stopped. Her leash was dropped to her side, and she realized that this was actually the first time she had not been tied up, bound, trapped in a bathtub, or held in a machine. This was her first moment of freedom, yet without vision she had nowhere to go. Her glorious imprisonment had never been the bondage or leash, it had almost always been her own choices. How many times could she have reached up and just released her leash and checked the hotel room for her luggage to know, to really know who had been fucking her?
At some point it felt like another woman was brought to stand next to her, but it was unclear. Instinctually, or wishful thinking, she thought it was her lover and friend from last night. Then she was led forward again and away from her friend again.
Something cold pressed against her mons. She guessed what it was a little too late. Flat and precise, a scanner's flat face. These QR scanners were also chip scanners. If they were checking her QR code it should show them that she was property of her husband, the little gag she had planned when the contract had asked if she wanted a QR code inked into her skin or not. But she had also been suspicious, and again, wishful thinking, that maybe the system had rejected her ask, and instead she had been actually semi-permanently marked as property and stock of the resort. These scanners also scanned for embedded chips, and she was just coming to too many realizations at once before it happened. The scanners worked at a distance, and the only reason they would be holding one up to her was to check for a chip. The only reason she would need a chip check was if she was about to be taken off property, leased out to some patron, or being sent home with her husband. She stood still not because she knew what to expect, but because the realizations were too profound and plan-altering for her to comprehend.
Then the pain, it was so fast. Then the pleasure, it was so strong. The chip came packed with pleasure hormones and other sensory-enhancing drugs. It was like someone had poured a pleasantly hot cup of tea over her as the pleasure spread through her tissue down into her sex, right into her clit, swirled around her pussy lips and up through her. She didn't have a thought in the world about what the chip meant to her right now, or that now might be the right time to actually enact her emergency plan of acting out to get flagged and eventually reverted to herself.
Hands at her shoulders rotated her and guided her down and into an opening. Leather against her knees. A car, no, a limo with more than enough room to fuck on the padded floor. She went where she was put, still stunned it had been easy to guide her. Then a man entered with her. She was already kneeling on the floor, having not had the mind to get up on the seats like a normal human would.
A hand at the back of her head.
Down.
She found the cock by geometry, her mouth knew the angle before she did, the tip slipped between her lips, then the tip was at her gag location but there was no gagging, then it was deeper in her than any man had been, and she reveled in the fact that her tongue could reach down to lick his balls even as her mouth was full of cock, and she registered the distance from her lip to his pubic bone as more than she had been able to manage before the cleaning suite, and the absence of any reflex where a reflex used to live. Then there was a new realization, without even thinking about it, she was breathing through her nose. It was extraordinarily difficult through the rose scented filters, but she was getting air, even as her normal breathing passage was thoroughly blocked up with hard cock! The nose and throat thing from the machine, it had installed some kind of breathing bypass directly from her nose to her lungs so that she could do exactly this. To deep throat like she never had before and not tire or need a breath as long as she didn't become so active that she needed more air.
The limo door was still open. How many people in the loading area were watching in wonder as a dream bimbo bombshell slut impossibly and continuously took balls deep cock down her throat like a fucking champ? His voice reached her from above, no, through her. With his cock so deep and her pressed that tight against him, the vibrations of his speech traveled through her skull, but still unintelligible and she had no way of detecting the identity of the speaker. He seemed to be speaking to someone outside of the vehicle, bragging about something, probably her. He waved to someone outside the car, then the door closed. The limo moved, and she was on her way to some unknown adventure, with some man's cock already enjoying her body even as they traveled. Husband or stranger it no longer mattered. She knew she was still safe. She was chipped, tracked. Her husband would figure this all out, find her, or had already found her, and she would be returned home reverted to herself... when he was done with her drone body of course.
She focused.
She had signed a contract. The default term was one month and she had read this when she was still a person who read contracts at a desk. The contract said one month unless voided, and there had been language about stock numbers, and she had no stock number because the inked QR code above her pussy had read, or was supposed to have read that she was her husband's property when she had expected the resort to claim her outright, and she was now being driven away from the resort by a man whose cock was in her throat and she did not know which of these facts was in contradiction with which.
She had a month. She might have a month. She was moving away from the resort in a direction she could not name and she had a task, which was this cock, which was warm and local and specific and which she was very good at now, and she did not stop.
The car moved through whatever night it was moving through.
She had planned every element of this adventure and not a single thing about it had gone to plan. She had planned the form and the spa and the hall pass and the treat. Yes she had made a mistake when she told him she would come join him later that night, while also planning to be with him that afternoon as his toy... a little detail that should not have derailed her plan this much, but she had planned nothing about this moment. Had not planned the cleaning suite's twenty minutes. Had not planned the selection room at all, even though she had been dreaming about it for years. Had not planned the chip and its immediate consequence flooding everything warm. Even if the QR code did read what she had planned, the QR code was an old system and the new system didn't bother to read the QR codes when a chip was present. So, as far as any computer of the resort was concerned, now she was clearly property and stock.
She had not planned the month.
Though there was one redeeming possibility, but it had a slim chance of working out. The contract she had signed was the real one that staff members signed, which meant that she was under contract to get paid. If she made it to the end of her contract she would get a handsome payout, then she could afford anything she wanted at the resort, at least for a while. And if her husband didn't find her within the month... well. She smiled around the cock, tightening her grip on it, and the man seemed to like it. If her husband didn't find her in the month, maybe she would ask him ever so politely, while sucking his balls empty, deepthroating him just like this until he agreed... she would ask him to be her drone fuck toy for a few nights, let him know how it felt.
The man she was pleasing didn't seem to be in much of a rush. He was taking his time, which made her think that their destination was a distance away. He did let her up for a rest every once in a while, but she didn't need rest, she needed a distraction so she kissed his cock, licked his balls, teased him and pleased him, until he got the point and let her back down on him fully again. Every once in a while she would think of something funny or ironic and her lips would tighten and his cock would jump in her mouth and she loved this little modicum of control.
The car moved. She moved with it. The task was in her hands and her throat and it was not complicated and the road was ahead of them and she could not see it.