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The Control Of Humanity.
Section One.
Narrator:
Welcome to my country. I would like to tell you
some tales of it, how we choose to live here, and the nature and quality of our
culture.
First, a slave-doctor will introduce you to our
most important asset; Slaves. They are the backbone of our economy, industry
and service.
Part 4502: Interesting technology from years gone by
part 98.
It has taken three years to train her to this
degree. As she stands before me,
presenting herself perfectly, I reminisce on the work I had to do to attain
this example of submissive art that she personifies. As
I move, her gaze tracks me at chest height, following me as I move to the bar.
When I stop and lift a bottle, she skips rabbit-like across the thick carpet to
reach the same corresponding position. I look upon her again, fully savoring
how light she is, how softly yet quickly she springs about in her crouching
gait. Her eyes settle on my chest again, awaiting my next move or command.
I pour myself a drink.
"P2," I say. She flips her body into a
tighter crouch and then rolls onto her bottom and brings her ankles into her
crotch. I have time to take a breath before I roll off the next command, and
she moves into each position in the space of a second, in time with my
breathing, all the way up to the 63 we have learned together so far. She breaks
into a light sweat as I begin the third cycle, and even this makes her look
even more enticing. I finally stop her
and let her rest in a relaxed pose.
Her artificial teeth glinted spectacularly in the
dim light of my desk lamp. They were artificial crystal, cut to enhance their
multi-colored sparkling quality. She couldn't eat with them, of course, but her
diet didn't require a lot of chewing these days. They had been pulled out
periodically over the last three years of her captivity, each time for a transgression
in her behavior or a failure to follow his rules. She wasn't a stupid girl, or
an inept student, but many of his rules were intentionally ambiguous or
intricate and over-complicated. He so loved to the look of agonized indecision
on her face when she met a knot in the web of his laws.
"Heel," he said, stalking toward the
door. She leapt to his right heel, scampering behind him on all fours. He
snapped the leather leash to her steel collar, and then he led her out and down
into the bowels of the labyrinthine mansion - enjoying that the cold in these
parts would discomfort her due to her nakedness, which was complete excepted only
for her cold steel chains. She rattled slightly as she loped along, and he was
reminded to replace her bells some day.
They reached, and turned a sharp right into the
expansive torture chamber. It was brightly lit, unusually, and so they could
see the Master's new slave-boy on his stand in the recessed alcove, opposite
the entrance, the dildo that pierced his anus and forced him upright.
The Master pauses to examine the new toy, the girl,
littlemeat sliding to a stop at his heel. He didn't like the look of the new slave's
wandering eyes and vacant glare. The boy's head was twitching ever so slightly
and his eyes stared into some middle distance.
"I think I overdid it with the drugs, meat. He
looks all fucked up. It's a shame if I have erred with his one, his training
was expensive, and now he will just be used for experimentation. What do you think
meat?"
Meat the girl pet focused her eyes from their usual
glassy slavespace stare and regarded her new slave-brother. "This doggie
shares your view, my Master. I think it needs to be eliminated, Sir."
Despite her innate compassion, something that had been sharply honed by these
years of incarceration and non-consensual abuse upon herself as well as others
for her punishment, she knew better than to not speak the utter truth to her
owner. And this slave-boy did look pretty much fucked.
"I overdid the narcocatalogic therapy, all
that being kept awake by electricity must have enhanced an existing prepossession
to mild psychoactive effects. Shame. Two slaves transfigured in one day."
Meat shuddered with that, and he dragged her
impatiently further into the depths of the giant torture complex.
The chamber was made up of a series of bays, some
enclosed, others open like the one they soon reached. Each chamber, maybe a
hundred in all, contained a different torture device or suite of devices. A
servant-slave hurried close covered in burn brands and scars of past slavehood.
Meat saw that this one had an eye missing. Some jewel perched in the darkened
socket instead.
"What is your will, Master?" the servant requested,
a hunched and broken figure next to the towering Master.
"Fire up the furnace, this one's getting
seared today."
"My lord." the twisted figure hurried
away. Despite years of training and conditioning, and an acceptance of her fate
that had long since become the norm, she still felt a glowing spike of pure
dread driven through her. She couldn’t move her muscles for a moment, and then
her Master snapped her leash and led her into the bay. Dread became white-hot
terror when she saw the machine.
The first thing her gaze settled upon was the
blackened floating body of an animal, maybe a goat, flapping gently in an
updraft of a blue hot flame which poked its sharp dagger just a half a meter
below. This was behind a transparent window, and the whole was set in the front
of a squat metal box the size of a cargo container.
As she was held there, forced to watch, a motif of
hairs on the goat's back erupted and danced away, fireflies ascending to
heaven.
She collapsed in fear as two servants came to grab
her. The furnace blinked out leaving the blackened and roasted carcass to slide
down onto a tray at the front of the machine.
They carried her into the rear of the machine and
she was wound with wire thread to prevent her arms and legs from flapping. She
screamed as the fire lit up again, echoing inside the dark interior like the
ignition of a jet engine. Involuntary wheezes of fear started to emanate from
her, punctuated by odd high-pitched squeaks like a mouse in the ascending claws
of its killer. They tossed her in.
Another slave detached the new slave-boy from his
perch. A leash was fitted and he was hobbled with heavy shackles to prevent any
running or rapid movement. He was led through a virtual maze of corridors; he
knew there was no way he could remember where he was.
"As you can see, the initial searing of her
skin removed a barrier to true implantation. As the metal is poured over her
body, it naturally glues to her lower dermal layer due to the heat of the metal
in its molten state, and hence the screaming. This then quickly cools, hardens
and contracts quite dramatically. Resulting in a shortened height of about 3
full inches, and some joint damage due to crushing which must be repaired
later.
Initially the slave is unable to move at all, and
emits these annoying yelps from behind her alloy skin. It's imperative that you
drill the airway immediately to save wasting all this beautiful work. Once
respiration is secure, it’s time to make holes for waste and any other
requirements. Meat here has been substantially rewired so there's only one
small waste hole needed. Use your pen blowtorch for this work, as any damage to
the underlying dermal material is actually beneficial at this point. Be careful
around the eyes, as any damage will be hard to repair from now on.
Next, the clever bit. We use high focus electro
magnets to bend the alloy, the only way this can be done. Due to the excellent
nature of the alloy-dermal bond, instead of being torn away from the body, it
shatters instead. This creates microscopic cracks in the material at joints and
stretch zones. This allows for movement and skin re-growth and limited
functionality of skin between the sections of the alloy. The alloy is very
light, almost exactly the same as the skin it replaces, but vastly stronger.
A side effect of the magnetic process is mineral
depletion in the body, causing increased bone damage due to calcium leakage,
and also magnesium build up in the brain, usually leading to early onset Alzheimer’s
and other brain dysfunctions.
Now, the fun part. The slave is wheeled into the
ExLo Freezers for eight hours, where final curing and some plasticization of
the alloy skin occurs. The most interesting thing about this part of the
process - and one reason why this new process is so popular, is that, because
of accelerated hypothermia due to the fast cooling effect of metal skin, the slave
enters a state of extremely low level coma. It is a state one shade up from
death, where the brain is silent and body metabolism is almost zero.
This as close to suspended animation we can get. A
very practical way for long term storage of slaves, within generations of the
same family or corporation for instance, with little aging of the slave's basic
body-chassis.
And of course, the incredible durability of this
skin allows slaves to work and function in very hostile environments."
The slave meat, already dubbed metalmeat by some other
people, was led out by magnetic controller to the powerful freezer. Her skin
was magnetically locked and she was left standing in the middle of the freezer
as the light went out and her skin began to flash- freeze her insides. In
seconds her thoughts became very dull. Her muscles spasmed painfully in their
metal confinement, unable to shiver. Her last drink, dirty toilet water six
hours ago, froze in her colon. The moisture on her eyeballs became frigid and
locked them in position. Her brain shut down. On hold.
The slave boy, whose name we might never know, was
injected with a potent sedative. His brain was removed and his body fed to the
pigs. They stored his brain for transplant the next time their vast pleasure
complex had a brainless bodyto accommodate it. Of course, the slave’s mind
could just be put back into storage, but then it would gain no experience.
Narrator:
Part 12074: Skaterboi part 22.
The Master led a servant a new work slave out into
the compound, a two hundred acre estate above the facility.
Slave-boy murphy continues the story:
He had me kneel on a skateboard, and he had the
servant strap my legs to it with a very large cable tie. The servant tightened
it so it was cutting into my calves and it locked me securely to the board. I
was fitted with a cock-gag, breath controller, blinkers, weighted nipple chains
which were clipped to the edges of the board - keeping me in a low kneel, and a
vibrator butt-plug with a horse's tail.
My hands were locked into two stainless steel
cones, and it was obvious that the way I must move was to drag myself along by
using the sharp points. Finally, he locked a meter long chain and drag hook to
my testicle ring.
"Move that pile of logs from there to that
storage shed," I saw the shadow of his arm moving as he pointed, but the
nipple chains and blinkers made it impossible for me to see where he was
pointing. I heard the crunch on the flagstone path as he walked away, and the
softer pads of the servant following him. I knew that now I was forgotten. The
rules were that once a task was assigned, the slave performing it could not be
fed, even water, or sleep or stop working until the task was complete.
I moved off in an arc, centered on the general direction
of where I guessed the Master had gestured. The first arc took me twenty
minutes, the heavy hook often catching on the grooves between flagstones and
stopping me with a yelp. Eventually, I found the pile of logs, on my backwards
arc. They were big and heavy and I dreaded having to drag even one of them by
my testicles. Luckily, they had all been fitted with large fence staples for my
hook to link with them. I chose the nearest one and dragged myself past it
until my hook was near the ring on the log. Moving into position was very difficult
due to the shortness of the chain and the turning circle of the skateboard.
After ten minutes of maneuvering, I was finally in a position to hook up to the
log.
I didn't have any fingers, only these dirty steel
points. I realized that the only way to pick up the hook would be to use both
points, leaving me with no support. Then I would have to stretch my nipples as
far as I was able to help me drop the hook through the ring.
The first hook-up took nearly an hour, and by the
end I was sobbing with the agony in my nipples and the aching in my stomach
muscles and arms. It took me another hour to find the storage shed and drag the
log inside. Hooking off was easier, because usually I could just knock the hook
out with one point.
I was on my fifth log, half way back from the pile
to the storage shed, a twenty five minute leg (which I had determined by
counting) when I noticed that darkness was beginning to fall.
This stunned me to a halt. Two realizations hit me.
The first was that this little task could easily kill me, it was no longer a
race to get the job done, but a race to finish before dehydration, exhaustion,
starvation, killed me. A cold finger of fear raked through my guts. Second, at
this rate it could take me nearly a week.
I began to sob. I knew that I was doomed. I would
die somewhere on this vast courtyard. I would slow down and slow down, and then
just stop. No one would even think of giving me the juice of their spittle, let
alone any real aid, because a working slave was to all purposes invisible. I
knelt stunned in this dilemma for many minutes. It was the memory of another
rule that got me going again. Work-slaves that stop will be sent to execution
immediately. So, I could die now or die later. It is human to opt for later,
and so I pushed on.
A sickening tearing sound and a stab of icy pain
from my scrotum stopped me about half way through the night. My tears of agony
mixed with the constant line of drool from the edge of the big cock in my
mouth. The current log, number 9, had caught on something, bringing my little
convoy to a halt by nearly tearing off my testicles. It took me nearly ten minutes
to get going again, and by then the brief rest had allowed the cold to bite me
and then wash me with a sudden gust of freezing wind. I moved quickly, trying
to get into a faster stride to stave off the cold, if I stopped for long I
could be in trouble real fast.
I was trying to soothe the ache in my arms with
comforting thoughts, half dreaming about soaking my poor body in a bubble bath,
like those we had in the old days. The vibrator turned on. The shock was
tremendous, it shook my whole frame and the buzzing was loud in my ears. I realized
that I was moaning in tune with the humming of the infernal device. I was
frozen on the spot for about half an hour, trembling with the discomfort, until
the fucking thing deactivated. More tears, and if it wasn't for the shaking
still vibrating my body they would have frozen on my cheeks. It was so cold. I
lurched forward, to protect my front from the driving wind, and to rest my
arms. I immediately felt myself feeling happier. I began to feel strong. I
decided to rest here for a while, store my energy and then be back at it
quickly.
It wasn’t until I stopped feeling the cold that I
understood that it was hypothermia. I got going again, in order to survive,
sobbing into the wind, my body frozen. My mind despairing.
Narrator:
This little exercise being performed by poor, sad
murphy is growing stale. Let us rejoin it when it becomes more interesting. For
now let me explain the functionality of our civilization.
We discovered you nearly a millennia ago, and have
been planning against you ever since. We are near neighbors in the universe,
and it is only natural that we try to subvert or destroy potential competitors
as quickly as possible. With this in mind, and many plans made ready, we
continued to keep a control on your development as a species.
Now, we have many theorists that contemplate the
integral luck inherent in the predatory nature of our constant influence and
recent total control over you, the substantial advantage that was given to us
by developing sooner. If the shoe was on the other foot, as you say, we would
be the slaves and you the Masters. But it is not to be. Ha ha.
We realized that we must act quickly when your
civilization began to infiltrate outer space. The thirst of your curiosity, and
the awesome discoveries so easily made would fire a massive explosion in your
growth, and that could very quickly put you nearly on a par with us, technology
and ability wise. To be honest, we feared you a little too. You have greater
endurance than us, and your minds cope with intense boredom and misery more
readily, which are obstacles in a military engagement, but perfect for your new
role. We decided to act. Rather than pruning individuals for experimentation,
entertainment and such, we know designed to capture and confine your entire
race. It is common in galactic affairs that young species are culled or
confined early in their progression, before any groups leave the home planet;
just as you would kill ants by poisoning the nest. This is what we did to you.
A single weapon, with some brutally comic nickname,
and launched from an archaically designed missile for further humorous effect,
was fired at your world from ours. We filmed the launch and consequent party to
show to you later.
Our weapon, finally free of its encumbering
projectile entered your atmosphere and began its work. It immediately used
material on your world to make a copy of itself, and in this way was able to
multiply. Each unit then manufactured microscopic projectiles which would
deliver the active contents to every single human on your world. Once the
invasion had spread this far, any rebellion was impossible. From initial
activation on planet’s surface to absolute global insemination was 22 hours. It
occurred on Tuesday March 23rd 20— (data edited by SafeCensor
Department). This date was convenient, as it was very close to the end of your
term of protection, an informal agreement between cultures that gives some
apparent safety to young species. A race that ends this term without the
ability to defend its home planet on a global scale is almost surely doomed.
The implanted devices allowed total control of
death on every single human being. Our computer system had to be upgraded
before we could effectively manage all 9 billion subjects.
Our domination was now complete.
The invasion system works by giving us the ability
to instantly end any human’s life. The signal is ultraquantic and so immediate
and flawless. The implant allows many options upon termination. We can choose
to let the personality dissipate naturally, but the system also allows
collection of the personality and download to our database. From our database,
a subject can be fully reconstructed in our captivity. Reconstruction of the
body is easy since the mind contains all the information required, though this
process and the initial downloading can be time-consuming for high numbers of
individuals. Modifications can be made to the body at this stage, resulting in
our newly acquired skill-base of personality programmers. Human minds in
storage in our database are not alive, so no experience is gained from this
period.
We
began gradually, culling and storing various examples of you. Many were not
even reconstructed, but used as backwards design and practice for our
programmers. We reconstructed others to be medical test subjects so that we
finally totally understood your physiology and view of existence. Behavior testing came later.
The Government then passed the Contempt Law, a
determination to see our culture change its opinion of humans to very inferior.
Any depiction of a human should be demeaning and denigrating to its status of
having any value.
Our daily average intake of new subjects now runs
at three hundred and forty eight - explosion of these figures is expected - and
these are split into different groups. The first group are allocated to sale
for a large profit as Basic Mental Codes. They then pass through brokers to any
of thousands of very different species. Copy protection exists on these, but
cracking does occur, though due to the extremely large margins involved and the
inherent value of originals due to memory degradation it is small enough to be
overlooked. Little data is available about the ultimate outcome of these
humans.
The second group is put into long-term storage in
our larger and larger data facilities for possible source-loss in the future.
The third group is your group, and the most
interesting. These humans, slaves already, are now recreated as such. They
awaken in their body, with the contortment of death and fear washed from their
faces. Their body feels strong and new and their mind becomes alert quickly.
Maybe they are many years younger, and this would
alert them that something is not heaven-holy about this dream. But they would
feel so good, and so happy that they have avoided the death that had come to
seize them, and any disquieting feelings would soon fade. They awaken in their
own home, their own bed it seems and maybe they lie there for a while thinking
on memories. Finally
they would get up, and be presented with the truth.
They are then brought into our community and we
play our games with them. Some get relative freedom. Others are used for life
labor, the furnace that drives our manufacturing industry, others are destined
to become things. You are part of the luckiest group of all, the group that
comes into our community, as service, pets, transport. Lucky lucky you!
Glossary of Terms.
BNP Basic Mental Codes. A human’s mind, stored in
digital form; an accumulation of all the data required to reconstruct a slave as
it appeared throughout any part of its existence. A BMC without a body-memory
for progressing physical body states or other related error is called a BMC
Slice, or Slice, as it can limit the modifications available from programming. This term is differentiated from Sacred Holy
Life Programs, which are the codes required to reconstruct real people.
BNP’s are of exactly the same functionality as any
other program. They can be deleted, copied, stored etc.
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