Clichés

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“So”, Stephanie began to summarise, “Your plan is to keep me in this tub filled with nano-thingies, until I’m all shiny and then to program my brain to believe that I am your helpless sexual prisoner?”

The scientist looked at her captive and wondered, not for the first time today, which of them could most accurately be termed “mad”. Everything had been going swimmingly. The woman had succumbed quickly, after drinking from the sedative-laced glass. After that it had been easy to remove her to this secret lair.

But when she woke up, apparently not understanding that she was chained and in peril, it had all begun to go wrong. Why did she have to be so damn perky?

“When’s it going to kick off then”, the prisoner asked, seemingly without guile, “I haven’t got all day you know, I’m a very busy lady … you should see how the reviews are backing up already”.

It was obvious that she couldn’t possibly understand what was about to occur and that was beginning to irk the scientist. She wanted to see the despair, the horror, to relish the fear. To hear how her victim’s cries of protest slowly failed, as she was consumed and transformed. Instead, she got the happy grin and a demand to hurry up and throw the switch.

Angry at fate for lumbering her with this bubblehead and with herself for not being able to keep her feelings in check, the scientist activated her machine. Silver goo began to foam and puddle around the woman’s naked body. She grinned all the more brightly, and tried, despite the chains, to splash the liquid over herself.

The scientist hated her. This was supposed to be her time, when she could cackle and gloat. Instead she had to listen to the suddenly girlish giggling and try not to scream in frustration. Talk about ruining the moment.

As the nanites began their work, Stephanie’s giggling took on a more sultry quality. In fact, to the scientist’s ears at least, it all sounded profoundly dirty. Nano-mycelium threaded its way into her body, filtering, cleaning and purifying. Muscles became toned and fat shifted. Skin became more elastic and resilient. She could feel all of it, and it was incredible, perhaps not better than sex, but running it a close second.

All her aches and pains receded, her vision growing more acute and every blemish and mark disappearing into shiny silver perfection. It was wonderful, better than she had even hoped. The only thing that marred the experience, was the angry look on her saviour’s face? What on earth could be making her so upset?

Finally the robotification process finished. The scientist gazed on her new creation, hoping that once the new software was installed, she might at least lose the vapid grin. Why couldn’t she say something like “You’ll never get away with this?” or “You’re insane” or “What have you done to me?”

Stephanie’s upload took only seconds, cold and impersonal code overwriting her mind. But of course she didn’t care, it felt amazing and it was after all pretty much exactly what she had wanted. Instructions flowed into her brain and she happily accepted them. She must do what the Mistress commanded, must make her feel perfect in every way, must never try to think for herself … and so the list continued.

It was all so simple, Stephanie realised. She didn’t have to worry about anything ever again. She was perfect, ageless, beautiful, all the things she had longed to be.

The scientist ordered her pleasurebot to stop smiling and was happy to see the silly grin disappear. She was still annoyed, but was sure that her new toy would be able to make it up to her. They kissed passionately, literal electricity sparking between them. She moaned softly and crumpled to the floor, stunned and paralysed.

Stephanie worked quickly, following her instructions. Stripping Mistress of her unnecessary clothing, before gently lowering her into the tub. She had to do what she was told, she wasn’t allowed to think and she had to make Mistress feel perfect in every way. After all, what could be more perfect that a shiny metal body and no worries or thoughts?


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