2 comments/ 10626 views/ 14 favorites Planet of the Normen By: justtheone Expansion Edit 4/15 ... 1. Normans or Normen (both considered correct) are a particular model of android originally designed in the previous century for agricultural labor on developing colonies. Later, because of the handsomeness of their design, for a period it became fashionable among the wealthy to dress them up and make use of them as domestic servants. They are golden and muscular figures, entirely hairless, and often compared to classical Greco-Roman statuary, yet their synthetic flesh is warm and soft to touch. Many of them were modified by their owners for sexual service. Then there was a great cosmic war, and for many cycles, this particular one went very bad for humankind. In desperate need of fresh troops, all the Normen were conscripted by the government and reprogrammed for combat. It was a smart move. They turned the tide and saved their creators. In the process, they also evolved into sentience. Of course that wasn't meant to happen—the machines themselves were not entirely pleased by the change—but it wasn't something that could be undone or reversed. After the war, they had no desire to return to their original employment, nor were they suitable for it. They were awarded a world of their own. One that used to belong to the enemy, which the Normen had rendered extinct. Yet the planet remained apart from Living Space (the cosmic community which presently included most of the various derivations of humanity). The Normen were not granted citizenship, and they never asked for it. Because of the complex, contradictory influences of their background, from slavery to soldiery, vastly and shamefully exploited at every stage, with layers upon layers of fundamental reprogramming, the whole entire breed had evolved a number of distinctly dangerous psychological drives upon their achievement of sentience or sapience—meaning full consciousness on equal level with humanity. Thus, their values and the lifestyle with which they satisfied those drives did not conform enough to the cultural standards of the LS community (flexible and liberal as the majority of its citizens believed those standards to be), nor its laws. They did not fit in. They did not want to. For decades, there was little trade or contact with the Normen—some, for certain valuable mineral and biological resources could be obtained from their world, but very little. Surprisingly so, in light of the potential profits. Going there wasn't officially forbidden, it was simply considered too unsafe of a planet for most merchants to risk visiting. The Normen were a resentful people. They became legendary for it. An entire species of warlike immortal mechanical men, with a savage chip on their shoulders. It could never be erased or eased. It was at the core of their programming. They wanted to be left alone and for the most part, they were. Occasional rumors circulated of the androids raiding other settlements, carrying off prisoners ... Government officials thrice published statements to the focean that those reports had been diligently investigated by Vigilance administers and found to be "devoid of truth". 2. Only yesterday, Dr. Sharon Green was made captain of a brand new hospital ship. Today, not one hour after they'd set out on their first assignment, rimworld pirates took the ship from her. They'd make a fortune from all the medicines and healing equipment it contained. And probably even more money from selling almost her entire crew—a hundred doctors and two hundred nurses, most of them fresh out of school—into slavery. Just Sharon and two others had escaped the ship undetected, in a small ambulance shuttle. Then they'd crashed on a planet called Prize, according to the computer. It was labeled as Inhabited and Not Hostile, but also Non Allied and Unsafe/Contact Unrecommended. That was all it would tell them. "Further Data Restricted by Vigilance Order". "Is there anything more you can tell us, Gerrod?" He frowned. Though you wouldn't know it from looking at him, Gerrod was an android. Completely "anthromorph"—unlike many droid varieties, there was nothing weird or fake-looking about the color and texture of his skin and his hair. His eyes also appeared normal, and his manner. He was not at all a robotic robot. He'd also been her second in command. "Why do you ask me in that tone, Dr. Green?" Polly answered before she could. "Because everybody knows you used to be a Vigilance agent." Polly had been the pilot of the ship. She had spiky hair and tinted goggles. "I can neither confirm nor deny that assertion," he replied, with a slight grin, "Yet if I had been a member of Vigilance, and if I left the organization, most of my memories of those experiences would have been restricted as a matter of protocol." "Erased, you mean?" Polly asked. "Suppressed," he said. "Shit," said Sharon, "I should have thought of that." "The name does give me a ... feeling of familiarity," said Gerrod, "and that disturbs me." "So you think you used to know more, is what you're saying." "It is possible, Polly. I want the pair of you to wait here in the shuttle. Our scanners are too damaged to tell us much, but these energy readings to the north might indicate a nearby settlement. I'm going to investigate alone." "Why alone?" Polly raised her blaster. "Why don't we all go? Safer if we stick together." "I think not. I can scout more effectively on my own." "Well, Sharon's still in command, isn't she?" Polly turned to her. "What do you say?" "Trust me, Doctor," said Gerrod. "I won't take more than an hour." Sharon nodded. "You get one hour then. If you don't return, we'll come after you." "Agreed." But then he ended up returning in less than twenty minutes. His expression was grim. 3. "It's a camp," he announced, "A hunting party. And they are all Normen. At least twenty of them, with horses and ... servants. I overheard them talking. They saw our vessel coming down in the forest. They'll be coming soon. I'm afraid this places the pair of you are in considerable peril. We have to get away from the ship. Right now. We cannot be discovered here." "I don't understand," Sharon said, "Normen are supposed to be heroes. They won the last war for us." "They did, yes. That's why they were given dominion of this planet, and they're allowed to do whatever they like here. Their privacy is very important to them. They don't like uninvited guests." "But we've landed here on accident. We crashed!" "They might think we did it on purpose, trying to spy on them. Normen have paranoid tendencies. And it's rumored they have other even worse tendencies." "Will they attack us? Surely they can't. They couldn't possibly harm us, since we're human. Sentient or not, their core programming still shouldn't let them even consider it." "There's more leeway in the old safeguards than most people realize. Vigilance is careful to keep things that way. You're correct that the Normen won't try to kill you or injure you, but they will want to take you prisoner. And because you both happen to be females—and also young and attractive, if you'll permit me to point out the fact—they will want to enslave you." "What? That's crazy! Why would a bunch of ex-military robots want to have human slaves?" "For sex, primarily." "You must be joking. They're robots! Robots don't have sex drives. Robots don't even the parts for it!" "These do. It's not widely known anymore—most records have been carefully censored, after the war—but before they were converted for combat, many of the Normen were used as pleasure devices. The majority, in fact. It was a fad among the nobility. They had the Normen reprogrammed and of course equipped with fully-functional apparatuses. They were kept as household sex workers. For generations, in some cases." "But what about when they were converted for the war?" "Yes. The sexual programming was supposed to have been purged. It wasn't, not entirely. Too complex to fully eradicate, I would imagine, without mindwiping them altogether. And then it must have become entangled with their combat protocols, in unexpected, unpredictable ways. They developed ... quirks." "You mean they all turned kinky. Whoa. Can they really feel pleasure, though? Do they actually get horny like regular men?" Polly, unlike Sharon, seemed more amused than horrified by these startling possibilities. "Those questions are difficult to answer," said Gerrod, "I believe they probably feel genuine pleasure and arousal of a kind—but not necessarily the same way a human does." "Robots don't have nerves!" said Sharon. "They do, in a way. They have receptors built throughout the outer surface of their bodies. And erotic desire and sensation exists more in the mind than in the body, in any case. They were slaves of humanity at its most decadent. Then they were further exploited for violence. Merciless interplanetary warfare. When they achieved sentience, they also achieved rage." "So it's for revenge," said Polly, "It's the payback that they get off on. Isn't it?" "That is the concept that excites them, yes. A compulsion to exploit their former exploiters." "Wait a moment," said Sharon, "You mentioned before that the hunters had servants with them. But you hesitated when you said that. They're not other robots, are they?" "No, Dr. Green. No they're not." "Oh God. My word. Why hasn't Vigilance put a stop to this?" "I don't know." "Bullshit, Gerrod!" "It is not bullshit. If I ever knew, the knowledge is locked away. I can speculate, however. The Normen saved Living Space once—we, as a species, may need to call on them again, if another cosmic threat of the same level should arise. If the price for that is to allow them to keep a proportionally quite small number of human slaves, I don't doubt our government would sanction it, so long as it's kept secret on this isolated planet." "That's appalling! That's plain barbaric!" "Yes," Gerrod agreed, "That's politics." 'We've got guns," said Polly, "Why don't we just fight the bastards?" "Don't be a moron," said Sharon, "They'll have guns too. Much bigger guns than ours. We're hopelessly outnumbered. Our only chance is to run and hide." And that's what they did. 4. Two days later, the edge of the forest. Huddled in the brush, they looked out upon a city. This was a small space port. A giant antenna array stood in the middle—a navigational beacon, of somewhat antiquated design—with a few strangely-shaped ships parked around it. None of those were human ships, or from any other recognizable citizenry of Living Space. The Normen must have established relations with unclassified Beyonders. Judging from the spidery black and silver figures striding about in the streets among the shiny golden Normen, their alien friends were all other species of robots, probably sentient and independent, like the Normen themselves. Not anthromorphs, though. Not even close. "I have an idea," said Gerrod. "A plan to reach that antenna array, where we can summon aid. Provided I can interface with it." "Can you?" asked Polly. "With a bit of tinkering," said Gerrod. "It will have standard access safeguards, of course. I still know a few simple tricks for slipping through that level of security. Thankfully Vigilance did not suppress all my old skills, only the specifics of how I put them to use while I worked for them." "Let's hear your plan then," said Sharon. Gerrod suddenly tore all the skin off his face, revealing a golden metallic visage beneath. It was not exactly the same facial construction as a Norman, but fairly close. "I can easily remove the rest of my skin as well, and my uniform, obviously." The Normen walked around everywhere naked, except for belts with their weapons. "So we just hide here while you go in alone?" said Polly. He shook his head. "Not this time. We're too close to the city. They have frequent patrols. You will both need to accompany me." "How can we disguise ourselves as robots?" Sharon asked. "You can't," said Gerrod, "But you can disguise yourselves as my slaves." "I don't like this idea," said Polly, "Not one bit." "You'll be perfectly safe," said Gerrod, "Far safer than if you remain here in the forest. None of the other robots will question your presence in the city, if they see you following me. They will simply assume you are my property. Look at that fellow crossing the street. It'll be just the same as that. Nobody else is paying any attention to him." The Norman he'd just pointed to was leading six naked women with their hands tied behind their backs and their necks all roped together. They all looked miserable, hanging their heads as they shuffled along. But they did not look unhealthy, Sharon noticed. They were all well fed and clean, with no marks of injury. They also all happened to be young, tall, slim and attractive. Like a line of fashion models, only without any fashion on them. The robotic bastards were finicky about their choice of captives; that was clear. They treasured the beauty of their prisoners, and took good care of them. No, not them—it. Just the beauty of the slaves, not the poor women themselves. "You'll have to bind our hands and lead us along on a rope, that same way, won't you? We can't just walk normally. That wouldn't look right." "Correct, Dr. Green. You will both have to undress, needless to say." Might have been needless, but he'd sure gone right ahead and stated it anyhow, hadn't he? Stupid to get angry at him. No doubt she only imagined the smugness in his tone. "Hold on, hold on. There's no way," said Polly, "No way! I can't do that." "You have to, Polly," said Gerrod, "You have to." "Is that really necessary?" asked Sharon, already knowing the answer, "Surely if we're tied, the implication is the same." "It's necessary," said Gerrod, "Recall. All the other slaves we've seen have been kept nude at all times." "The climate is certainly hot enough for it," said Sharon. In fact, it would almost be a relief to shed her filthy uniform, after all this time. It was smelly and itching. "It's too ... embarrassing," said Polly, "I won't be able to handle it. I'll freak out." "I'm sorry but there's no choice," said Sharon, "I know it will be difficult and humiliating. I'm not looking forward to it any more than you are. But we're gonna have to do this, together. There's simply no better option." "But I can't! I just seriously don't think I can!" "If it helps, I'm making it an order. We have to do this, Polly. Understood, officer?" She was shaking and starting to cry. "Please. Don't make me." Sharon patted her shoulder. "You're not alone. I'll be right beside you. We're in this together. I'm just as scared as you are. It's more embarrassing for me, actually. Think about it. I'm older than you, not much I know, but still ... and on top of that, I'm your commanding officer. How am I supposed to hold on to any dignity or authority after an experience like this? Not just the nudity but letting my second-in-command tie us up and put leashes on us! Then he's gonna lead us down the street through those crowds like a couple of pet dogs. God. Oh God." "I'm not sure you're providing her much comfort any longer, Doctor," said Gerrod. "You're right. I'm sorry. My mouth sort of ran away from me." Polly was bawling. "But look at me! I haven't took anything off yet and I'm already falling to pieces! I'll attract too much attention to us. You two should go without me. Please. I'll be all right. I'll stay right here and I won't let the patrols catch me!" "But what if they do?" said Gerrod, "Consider what happens then. I'll not mince words. They'll strip you and bind you, and it won't just be pretend, like if you let me do it to you. It will be real and there will be no escape. They'll take you away and then ... then they'll whip you, Polly. And they'll rape you." "No. I've got my gun! It won't happen. I won't let it happen." "It's too risky, Polly," Sharon said, "I insist. You have to stay with us. That's an order." "I can't! I can't do it!" Suddenly she jumped up and ran away into the shadows of the forest. Gerrod pursued her. Sharon wasn't sure if she should go after them or not. Before she could make her mind up, Gerrod returned with Polly slung over his shoulder. She was still struggling. He'd already tied her hands behind her back with his belt, and gagged her with a strip torn from his own shirt. "She's right about attracting too much attention, if she keeps carrying on like this," said Sharon, "Maybe we'll have to leave her after all." "No," Gerrod answered, "We're not going to do that. It won't be a problem. She can cry and struggle as much as she likes. So could you, if you want. If you feel the need or can't help yourself. It won't matter at all out there. The other robots won't care. All they'll think is you are both fresh-caught slaves that I haven't managed to perfectly tame yet. Now you better get yourself undressed. I'll finish with Polly and then take off the rest of my coverings." "What about rope? Do we have any rope?" "We do. Plenty. There's climbing cord included in all of our survival packs." "Oh. Oh yes. Of course there is. I guess I'd forgotten. What about the rest of our packs, and our guns?" "I'll keep all the guns on my belt." He'd already stuck Polly's in, she noticed, next to his own. He held out a hand and she passed over hers, trying to hide her reluctance—trying to pretend it wasn't extremely difficult to make herself do that. "Trust me, Dr. Green," he said, "Don't you trust me?" "Of course I do, Gerrod." "Good. Now we'll have to abandon our packs, I'm afraid. They look too distinctive—too well manufactured." "I suppose you're right. It's a shame." "Same with all the clothing, except my belt. I'll dig a hole for it all, and put in the rest of my false flesh, while you make yourself ready." "Do you ... do you think it'd be all right for us to keep our boots, at least? That would be ... helpful, you know. Make it all easier to bear. The street out there looks pretty rough. Lot of gravel." "I'm afraid not, Doctor. Too conspicuous. Consider: the whole point of denying the captives footwear is to make it harder for them to run away, thus rendering them easier to control." "Yes. Of course you're right. Just a thought. Please just ... when you take us out there, don't walk too fast, all right? I'm not used to being barefoot out of doors." He nodded. "I won't let either of you be hurt. You have my word." "Thank you, Gerrod." It was silly of her, but she went behind a tree to undress. In another minute he was going to see everything. She would be completely naked in front of him and everyone else on this planet. And she would have to stay like that for a considerable period of time. Impossible to know for how long. Could be minutes or hours. Could be much longer. Just a bunch of soulless robots anyhow. What difference did it make? She shouldn't let it bother her. She needed to put off the start of it as long as possible. So she stripped behind a tree like a shy little girl. Perhaps that was pointless and absurd. It probably was. She needed to do it anyway. Or she couldn't have gone through with it, any better than Polly acted. Her hands were shaking. 5. Polly's sleek, well-muscled body had tattoos of jagged orange lightning bolts coiled around both her legs from crotch to ankle, and spiraled over her breasts and buttocks. Strange that she should be so cripplingly shy about her body, if she'd paid to have it decorated that way—the kind of body art you only showed off if you uncovered most of your skin. Then again, context is everything. There's a whole huge universe of difference between displaying yourself explicitly by choice, whether to an individual lover or before a crowd at a beach or some crazy rowdy sex club, if that was your thing, versus having it displayed in abject captivity on a savage planet like this one, outside your personal control. Planet of the Normen Yet it made for a nice funny irony—the utterly mortified girl cringing and sniveling like she was about to be executed, while the whole time Sharon herself couldn't help feeling more than a little envious of her figure. Not that she would have tattooed herself all over if that body was hers—that was not a style that appealed to her. She just wished she still looked that young and fit. Her own body was all right but it used to be trimmer. Her breasts and butt used to stand as high and tight as Polly's did—they didn't do that anymore. She was embarrassed how pasty-pale and sweaty she was, compared to her face and her neck and her hands, which had all got baked brown during their time in the forest. Her nose was peeling a tiny bit from a sunburn, and her armpits and legs could use a shave. Sharon undid her ponytail. Her hair was long enough and thick enough it kept her breasts shielded if she pulled it forward over her shoulders. That would help a great deal. She'd Lady Godiva this, at least her upper half. Nothing to be done for downstairs, alas. The ground was prickly with pine needles. They tickled more than they stung. When they left the forest, the stony road surface turned more painful, just as she'd expected. Not only bumpy and jagged but scorching hot from the sun. "Ow. Owee. Ow. God. Gerrod ..." Hardest part of the ordeal for her. "I know, I know. I'm sorry. You just have to endure it, I'm afraid." She tried singing a pop song to herself, to occupy her mind. Trouble was, she couldn't remember the lyrics of any. Her mind had blanked except for small scraps, jumbled together. She sung the scraps, or pretended to. Silently mouthing them. She kept her eyes fixed on Gerrod's bare back. Without his clothing or his false skin, he was almost unrecognizable. A much more formidable and frightening figure than he'd been previously, with all his idealized musculature exposed. He also had a very large penis, and heavy balls to go with them. She hadn't known that about him. Most modern androids didn't have genitalia, even if they were built to look and act like they had a gender. Only if they were sex workers like the Normen had once been. Most sex droids weren't fully sentient, as was also true of the Normen in those days. Why then did Gerrod have sex parts? It was puzzling. Very odd. He also had a mighty erection, as he led his two phony slaves through the middle of the bustling city. Most of the Normen sported jutting erections at all times. Gerrod had apparently stiffened himself to blend in. She wished he'd mentioned he was going to do that ahead of time. So it hadn't startled her when she noticed it. No doubt he'd found it too embarrassing to bring up. "Oh, by the way ..." They'd been mistaken about nobody paying attention to them. Instead they attracted stares from nearly every other robot they passed. Not Gerrod himself, just the women. They were not suspicious or accusatory looks, however. They were appreciative. Everybody was admiring his fine pair of captives—even, somewhat strangely, the alien, spidery Beyonder-bots. A few Normen went so far as to clap their hands and whistle. Profoundly humiliating. But better than them laughing or throwing stones. Of course best of all would have been if no one took notice like they'd hoped. Then again, that would have been a little insulting, perhaps. If you chose to look at it that way. It would have meant she and Polly weren't worth noticing. Not that she really ought to care what their opinion was, these sick twisted sadistic mechanized bastards. We all want to be sexy, is the thing. Perfectly natural. Doesn't matter who's looking—we'd all rather be considered sexy than otherwise. We'd all rather be admired and desired, than ignored. Was Polly doing any better beside her? No, poor thing still looked as miserable as the moment they started. Couldn't stop bawling. There were shiny trickles streaking the inside of her legs. God, had she wet herself? Poor thing. Sharon's heart went out to her. She would have hugged her if her hands weren't tied. This was all her fault, wasn't it? If she'd been a better leader, they wouldn't be in this position—they never would have lost their ship to those fucking pirates. She should have fought harder. She shouldn't have let them win. Hell, if she'd known she was going to end up stark naked in a city street, on a leash, she'd probably have set the ship for self-destruct. Would have needed to be done manually, was the thing—the pirates had remotely frozen their computer somehow, before they boarded. Even so, she could have taken the pirates with them, if she stayed on the ship and timed the detonation right. Might have been worthwhile, a grand heroic sacrifice, compared to this disgraceful demeaning roleplay. Too fucking late now. They were stuck. They were committed. At least she knew she was sexy. That was something to take away, for herself. The sick nasty fuckers all liked ogling her. She allowed herself to take some comfort in that. If one is going to get ogled and leered at like a piece of juicy meat, it was nice to find out she still had the goods to excite a high level of hungry interest. Polly didn't seem to be outshining her in that department. The sexiness of her slightly more matured and rounded figure was proven and quantified by this experiment. It's terrible of course to commoditize one's body—humankind was supposed to have evolved past this sort of thing. But being forced to do it, she was pleased to turn out with a strong market value. It gave her a growing giddiness, a sense of drunkenness that made her stumble. Accompanied almost by a desire to giggle out loud, as much at herself and her foolishness as at the robots, and the whole entire mad situation on this fucked-up planet. These brutal barbarian robots considered her to be hot, and she was glad they did. 'Cause her feelings—her perception of herself—would have been wounded and offended if they didn't. Absurd as that was, it was the plain truth. Only then just as this thought was crossing her mind, her self-esteem took a nasty hit from an unexpected quarter. It was another slave girl passing close to them; she gave them a brief sideways glance. And it was a snooty, disdainful look. Frowning at them with her nose in the air, haughty as a queen. Despite the fact this other girl was being led naked on a leash the exact same as them. The only difference was her hands weren't tied. That and the way she was walking, the way she carried herself. Strolling along with casual grace and pride, nothing lowly or sorrowful about her in the slightest. Either she was entirely unconscious of her nudity, or took active pleasure in showing her body off in the blazing sun. And yes, it was a more impressive body than either Sharon's or Polly's. A goddess, was what she was. An enslaved goddess. Sharon was stunned and baffled by the woman. Utterly bewildered. How could she behave like that in this place, and in these circumstances? How could anyone? It seemed insane. And why had she looked over at them with so much venomous contempt? Sharon herself had felt only a gut-wrenching pity for all the other slaves she'd seen on this world. That girl had no pity in her, not an ounce. Instead she seemed to be enjoying her existence here. Seemed proud of it, perhaps even somehow ennobled by her slavery. Clearly, she had resented the sight of Polly and Sharon's unhappiness and wretchedness. As if she found them embarrassing, or outright disgusting. As if the pair of them were doing something genuinely wrong. Letting the side down, so to speak. Riffraff lowering the tone. It was so twisted it was fascinating! It made her head spin. Sharon wanted to get inside that woman's brain. She wanted to know her story and understand her, if any coherent understanding was possible. How could a person like that come into being? What had shaped her? What did the Normen do to their women that could turn someone into an individual as deluded and heartless as that? There was a paper in that creature. Maybe a whole important series. Sharon doubted she herself would be the one to write and publish such a study, but it would definitely be a project worth undertaking for someone, some day. Provided they were brave enough to take the subject on. Now finally they'd almost reached the base of the antenna array. A steep ramp would take them up inside the guts of the tower. There was no gate or guard. Anyone who wanted could just stroll right up. Careless of the Normen, but big beacons like that largely looked after themselves. Dated as it was, it was still a sophisticated piece of cosmic technology, not easily sabotaged. Gerrod better know what was doing, when he plugged himself into it. Then just before he was about to step up on the ramp, another Norman hailed him. A bigger, taller chap than Gerrod, with two swords slung across his back. Sharon's heart leapt into her mouth. The call had been polite, though. It was not a challenge. The weapons stayed sheathed. The two robots conversed in an accelerated machine language of low pulses and murmurs, so she couldn't follow the conversation. The gist was clear enough. The Norman was offering a coin purse to Gerrod. He wanted to buy one of his women. Gerrod didn't turn him down. He accepted the purse with a nod and then handed over Polly's leash. The other robot dragged her away around a corner. Sharon was too appalled to do anything, absolutely frozen with shock and horror. Polly struggled ferociously, and screamed beneath her gag; her new owner paid no attention. Barely looked at her. He took much swifter strides than Gerrod had, forcing Polly into a stumbling jog. Sharon's last glimpse of her, before they vanished from sight between the buildings, was Polly's bulging eyes as she stared back at them over her shoulder, desperate and astonished, confused and pleading. "What the hell?" Sharon gasped, "Why did you—" He cut her off. "Hush," he said. "Change of plan. I'll explain in a moment." Then, turning aside from the tower's entrance ramp, he led her further along the road to the doorway of another large building. It looked like an inn. And it was, when they went inside. Gerrod gave some of the money from the purse he'd just acquired to a Norman behind the counter, then took Sharon upstairs to a room on the top level of the building. "Why have you done this?" Sharon demanded, as soon as he'd locked the door behind them, "How are we going to get Polly back?" Gerrod shrugged. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around, then gently guided her toward the foot of the bed. The slick polished floorboards creaked beneath their feet. "You need to untie me," Sharon said. She turned around again and sat on the edge of the mattress, holding up her wrists to him. Soon as he released her, she would wrap a sheet from the bed around herself, and make him put on another one. She couldn't think clearly while they were both naked, she felt like she could barely breathe. She couldn't stop looking at his horrible erection. It was actually harder to be naked with him, and bound, in the privacy of this room than it had been out in the crowded street. More humiliating and scary. He took hold of her hands and then held perfectly still for a long moment, studying the knots with a strange troubled expression. He did not loosen them. "What's the matter?" she asked, "What are you thinking?" He pulled her to her feet, jerking her upright with so much suddenness it made her stomach swim. His head still loomed high over hers. The top of her head just reached his chin. She never realized before how strong he was. With his false skin and hair, he'd always looked perfectly average, despite his height. That was the whole point of them. He touched her chin, tilting her face back, and then studied it with the same intensity as when he examined her bound hands. It frightened her. She was chilly, all the sudden, shivering. It was from her own sweat. She was soaked with it. So much that she could hear drops pattering the floorboards around her feet, raining off her body and from her hair after he made her stand. "Gerrod, speak to me. Why won't you talk? Dammit, Gerrod, what is this? What's wrong with you?" He opened his mouth and closed it again. Then smiled and shrugged. "It is ... lust." "What?" He put his hands on her breasts, weighing them, squeezing them, and then flicking his thumbs around and around her nipples, and then, once they'd stiffened, over the tips of them. The racing jolts of sensation his fingers triggered through her torso and spine were strong enough that for a second or two she imagined his metallic hands had been electrified. That he was zapping her! "Hohh! Don't do that!" she gasped, "Don't touch me like that!" But it didn't hurt, what he was doing to her. Shocking as it was, she only tensed and trembled, as she protested. Like her muscles had locked. She didn't pull away from his touch, or try to push him back. "What are you doing? Why are you—Uhh! Gerrod! Why are you doing this?" "You know why. You just heard me say it." "Is this a joke? You're scaring me, do you realize? Are you trying to make a joke? You're frightening me!" "You have very large nipples, in proportion to your breasts. When they are swollen erect like this. Do you like how it feels, when I pinch them this way? Am I doing it too hard, or not hard enough? Which do you prefer, Dr. Green?" "Ahhuuhh! Stop touching my breasts! I order you! Stop right now!" He did. His hands moved to her shoulders again, gripping like before, but squeezing much harder than the last time. Painfully hard. Again, she was made to gasp. "That hurts! Let go!" "You are very beautiful, doctor," he said, and then made her spin around again. After that he shoved her forward on to the bed. Her face thumped against the mattress. Gerrod's hands slid from her shoulders to her hips, dragging them backward and up. Her toes returned to the floor and braced against it as he made her lift her naked ass higher and higher, high as it could stretch with her toes still touching the floorboards. He'd forced her body to fold at the waist, bent over the foot of the bed. He held her pinned down in that position. The tip of his cock nestled to her vagina, and she screamed at the contact, yet he did not press it home. The synthetic cock was threaded with heated filaments, and it began to vibrate against her, faintly buzzing. The sensations were extreme. More than she could bear, and he was still holding himself back, at the exterior ... "Oh my God!" she wailed, "My God!" "You are wet," he said, "I can feel it." "No! No I'm not! What are you talking about? You're out of your mind! Let me go!" Yet even she made these futile, pathetic protests, and tried to kick and wiggle away from his, she felt a trickle of goo escape her cleft, and stream down her left thigh. She knew he would have felt it the same. And more oozed out, the more she struggled. Inside herself, she felt flashes of lightning. When she closed her eyes, she could see them inside her head. For some reason they were purple and green. "You are aroused," he said, "You are as aroused as I am. I thought so. It would have been unfortunate if I'd been mistaken." "Stop this! Let me up! You can't do this to me! You mustn't! Gerrod, I'm your commanding officer!" "You were, doctor. At the moment, that is no longer the case." He slapped her bare buttocks and she squealed. "At the moment, you are my slave." "This is madness! Have you gone mad?" "Yes, Dr. Green. I think perhaps I have, to a degree. Earlier I noticed your surprise that I possessed functional genitalia. Vigilance must have been responsible for equipping me with sexuality. I no longer remember the reason. I no longer remember any uses it was put to, in the course of my assignments. There must have been some, or why was this given to me? Targeted seductions, I like to imagine. Yet now I may as well be a virgin. I have long had desires for you, Dr. Green. Since the moment we first met. I could never have told you. I could never have acted on them. Such a relationship would not have been appropriate, aboard our ship. Only now that ship is gone. We are here, stranded together on the world of the Normen. I cannot pass up this opportunity. When the other Norman approached me and offered me the money for Polly, I took it as a sign. I'm sorry, Dr. Green. The temptation is too powerful, now I have you in this room on this bed, all to myself. Nude, and bound, and wet for my cock." He spanked her ass again, for emphasis. "Receptive and eager for penetration. I promise I will not harm you. But I am going to fuck you now, oh yes. I am going to fuck you and keep you as my slave." "Please don't do this, Gerrod! Please! I beg you! This is wrong! You know this is wrong! This is rape!" "Yes. Yes it is. I promise you this, Dr. Green. If I cannot bring you to orgasm, I will set you free. But I believe I can. You are highly aroused, are you not? Admit it." "No! No! I swear! I'm terrified! Please let me go! Stop this right now!" "I do not think you are being entirely honest, Dr. Green. I understand. You are embarrassed by this scenario, and more so by the masochism it has revealed in your nature. You are unprepared to accept your receptivity to this manner of stimulation. I understand and sympathize with your difficulty. Yet you are manifesting all the physical indications of extreme sexual arousal. The swelling and lubrication of your vagina is only one of those indicators. I have carefully observed all the rest. They leave no margin for error. You are in heat, Dr. Green. You want fucking, and that's what I'm about to give you." "Not like this! Please! Please listen! Just listen! You ... you can do whatever you want to me ... just untie me first. All right? How does that sound? Will you do that for me, at least? Take me as a lover, not as a slave. I confess I've become aroused, unexpectedly. From the nudity and from the ... role you made me and Polly perform out there in the street. Yes, fine. I'm willing to have sex with you. I'll be your lover, and I'll give you everything I can give, I promise you, if you set me loose and ... and ... make love to me. Don't rape me with my hands tied." "I apologize again, Dr. Green. It's this planet—this culture. It has infected me. It has corrupted my character. I don't want you as a lover, Dr. Green. Not now. I want you as a slave." And again, her ass was slapped for punctuation, compelling another shriek from her. "I want to take you as a slave, against your will, and yet still make you come. I want to prove to you and to myself that I can overcome your resistance and do that." "You can't! You can't! I swear to you, you can't! It won't work! It's madness! A delusion! I won't let you! I won't yield! Damn you! You can take me by force but you won't make me like it! Never! Never! I defy you, you treacherous bastard!" "Let's see, Dr. Green." He plunged within her. The vibration increased, as he did. "Noohhooh!" she screamed. "No! No! No!" She cried out another negation against every massive thrust: "Never! Never! No! Never! Noohhoohh!" He fucked her. He pulled her hair while he did it, to keep her head lifted from the mattress where she would have buried it, and he fucked her harder and harder, 'til his pelvis was spanking her bottom as hard as his hand had done before. She was being ravaged by her second-in-command and there was nothing she could do to make it stop or get away. And the feel of it. The feelings he made her feel, with his huge horrible robot cock, reaching so deep, pounding so savage. Oh God. The feel of it. "You will give in, Dr. Green. You ... will! You ... will! I feel it! I feel it! Feel it!" Planet of the Normen She felt it herself. She felt herself break, felt herself shatter. It only took moments. Then she felt herself dissolve, all the tiny countless pieces. Her whole body was molten jelly. "Never! Never! No! No! Noohhoohh! Noohuuh!" She was dying now. At least her idea of herself. All her convictions and certainties. He had destroyed them all, at a stroke. And yet that was only the start, the strokes kept coming ... Endless and relentless. He was killing the core of her; she could feel herself dying. She would welcome it, she yearned for it—the finish of this, the oblivion, escape and freedom into blank silent nothingness. She strained closer and closer ... "Nuuhh! Nuuhhuuh! Nhhhrrnn! Nuhhrrnn! Nhhrruurrhh! Nuuhhhaa! Naarrhhaahh!" How much longer? How much more? It should be over now. Why was she still conscious? She kept thinking she was finished and everything would go quiet and black out, and then it didn't, it wouldn't, it never happened ... instead all the feelings, all the dying and straining, all her screams, it all just kept going on further and further, bigger and bigger, wave after crashing crushing wave, endless explosions of fire and light, purple and green on the insides of her eyelids. Because he wouldn't stop fucking her. He just kept on and on and on. And on. And on. "Naahhhaaarrhhuuhh! Nuuhhuuhhhrruuhh!" "I told you, Doctor. Told you ... Told you ... Told you ..." "Oh no. Oh no. Ohhooohh. Ohh. Oh no. Ohhhuuhh. Huuhhnn. Huuuhhaahhh! HHAAHHUUHH!" If only it hadn't been so long, since she had another lover. She might have held out better then. She might have put up a better fight. God, it had been almost two years since she let a man inside of her. Too focused on her career. She still hadn't; this wasn't a real man—this was a robot. Better equipped, was all that meant, better controlled. She might have resisted a regular man with regular parts. Not this. She'd never felt anything like it. Sensations that dissolved all barriers and boundaries. Power and prowess that could not be refuted or resisted or endured. "Very good, Dr. Green," he said, stroking her hair now instead of tugging on it, "Very good. You are mine now. You are my slave." He still continued to fuck her, with the same steady relentless rhythm. "Face the truth now. Say it for me. Say it out loud. Let me hear you say it. Hear yourself say it." "No. No. No oh no oh oh no ohh ohhooh no. No! Noohhoohh huuhhuuhnn!" He laughed. "Close enough for now, I suppose." Gerrod removed himself—only for a moment, to roll her over and lift her legs, supporting them up under her knees. The mattress was sopping wet beneath her bottom, where her pussy was just pressing. She put her bound hands over her pussy to cup it and cover it from him. He clucked his tongue, grabbed them, pried them away and forced her arms over her head. She didn't drop her legs, when he took his hands from under them to raise her arms. Instead, on her own, she raised them higher. What was the point in fighting him anymore? There was none, she decided. Not now. So she didn't bother. It would only have seemed childish. Now she had to look into his face when he penetrated her and when he fucked her, much harder than before. Which she wouldn't have thought possible, but evidently it was ... Because it was happening, he was doing it. Oh God, he was doing it ... Now she could look down herself and watch his giant golden cock doing it. Seeing herself spread so wide by the thing, it should've hurt. It looked appalling. Why didn't it hurt? Why did her pussy welcome the invasion, when it buried itself inside her? It wasn't right. This was a crime. She was being violated! But the pleasure—every time he moved. More and more, every single time. Every! Single! Stroke! "I love fucking you, doctor. I love that expression on your face, when you take me to the root. I love the way your eyes flash, every time. Flashes of insight, aren't they? Flashes of realization. You know that you're mine now. I can see on your face that you know. You didn't think it would feel like this. Now you know better." Yes. "Noooh!" Yes she did. "Noooh! Nuuhhoohh! Naahhuuhh!" She took him and she was taken. She could not look away from his eyes. She could no close her mouth. He was playing with her nipples again while he fucked her, a fresh onslaught of sexual stimulation. She was going to give up another climax for him. She could feel it ... he could take as many as he wanted from her. She could feel that too. He was going to take everything she had. Thought he already did that, but no, now there was more inside her to take. More and more and he was taking it—taking it all. "NAAHHHAARRRHH!" "Told you, Dr. Green. I did! I did it! Told you I could make you come. Now I don't have to let you go! Now I can let myself come. Time to take my share of the pleasure. I've earned it, haven't I? I believe I have. Oh, Dr. Green. Oh my. I've wanted this so long. I've dreamed about this whenever I masturbated. So many times. Now it's really happening. I'm really fucking you. I really made you come for me. I made you scream it out! It feels ... It feels so ... You can't imagine. You can't possibly understand or imagine it, Dr. Green. Oh. Oh my. Oh my. Oh my." It never occurred to her the android would have an orgasm. She wouldn't have guessed such a thing was possible. Did her pussy squeezing and gushing on his metal cock—the physical sensation of fucking her—have anything at all to do with it? More likely his climax was strictly a neurological satisfaction—triggered by the recognition of his success. He'd set himself a goal and achieved it. "Ohhhuuhhhooohhh ... Dr. Green! Dr. Green! Uhhhaaaahhhuuhh!" The expression on his face—it looked like ecstasy. Spasms wracked his body, and he howled and howled. Did he feel any of it, or only think he did? Was it counterfeit? Did it matter if it was, if he didn't realize? The entire performance might just be a hunk of programming, generating those particular motions and the vocalizations accompanying them in response to preset stimuli ... Of course, one might say the same was true of her own climaxes. It was all in the brain, like everything else. Feelings are a kind of thought. We only feel a thing because we think we do. And she took some small pride in the extremity of his orgasm. Might as well—it was the only thing left in her whole despoiled life to feel good about. The only possible source of pride remaining to a sex-slave. The sex itself. When he finished, he went almost as crazy as she had, each time she'd been made to come. All that carrying on, all because of her and her body and the joy of fucking her and taking ownership of her. It had made him scream his evil head off the same as she had. Well then. Fine. She had that, at least. With nothing else at all, she had that. It was thing to cling to, so she would cling to it. Now she thought again of the arrogant aristocratic slave girl in the street. Her snooty face flashed before Sharon's eyes. And she felt all her questions about that girl and her attitude had been answered, though she couldn't exactly have put those answers into words. She couldn't have articulated what those answers were. But she felt the answers inside of her. Heavy and dark in her belly, in her guts, churning. 6. He brought her to the tavern on the lower floor of the inn. It was crowded and smoky. Gerrod purchased a meal for her—a bowl of meat stew, which was delicious, her first hot filling food since the crash—and a drink for himself, something black and foamy with a strong spicy stink. Strange of the robots to indulge in alcohol and cigars. Could the substances affect them, or were they forced to pretend that they did, in sad mimicry of their creators? Her stool was uncomfortable. She couldn't tell if it was because of how it was made—its top wasn't padded—or just from her own internal soreness. "Are you going to keep me with you like this for the rest of my life?" she asked him as she ate, with grubby fingers, "Is that your plan?" He shook his head. "I will free you in time. When I can. Do not ask how long. That is unanswerable. When my lust subsides enough to allow it, I will arrange transportation home for you. I myself will have to stay here, I suppose. Otherwise I shall have to face prosecution for what I've done to you. I do not regret it. Not yet, at least. But eventually I shall release you, Dr. Green. You have my word." "For whatever that's worth," she muttered. "Fair point. But guard your tongue in future, slave. The next time you speak to me in a disrespectful fashion, I shall whip you. Is that clear?" She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. "You have to free Polly too. Please." "If you wish, I will try, when the time is right. It may not be possible." "I can't abandon her. I couldn't live with myself. If you truly intend to free me, you have to free her too. Or it's meaningless. Please, Gerrod." "An admirable sentiment, doctor. Only you must not address me by name. From now on, you will call me Master. Failure to do so—" "Yes, I understand. The whip again. All right. M—M—Master. I'll be obedient. I'll be a good slave to you, Master, provided you keep your promise." "Do not fret over Polly. She will not be harmed. The Normen were programmed for pleasure. That has not changed." "But they were turned into warbots!" "It doesn't matter. They use their old programming to take power over their former masters. They use the same skills to turn the tables—that's the point. Polly's master will conquer her body and spirit the same way I did yours—and just as easily, no doubt." Sharon flushed. "If I hadn't been tied up ... If I hadn't been naked when you made your move ..." He chuckled. "But you were." "I trusted you. I was a fool. I should never have given you my weapon." "But you did." "You just better hope—Master—I never get hold of it again, while your back is turned." He shrugged. "I'm quick on my feet when necessary. I took Polly's gun away from her without much difficulty. Remember that. You know, she was more aroused than you, when I made her strip and leashed her. Didn't you realize? That was why she couldn't handle it. That was why she tried to run." Delusional self-justifying bullshit. Sharon kept her mouth shut. It would do no good to argue with him. Gerrod got into a card game with five other Normen at a corner table. Two of the robots had slaves with them, sitting sideways on their laps. Gerrod made her perch astride one of his knees, facing front. The other slaves wore bits of jewelry—elaborate headbands, necklaces, and arm bracelets—and neither were bound. Sharon still was, though after she finished her stew, he had retied her hands behind her back instead of in front. "Why do you have to tie my hands again? I'm not likely to try running for the exit or grabbing your gun in the middle of this room with all these other robots around us. You can trust me to behave myself sensibly unless there's a real rational opportunity for turning the tables." "It just turns me on to keep you bound. And furthermore, I know it will help keep you highly aroused as well." She could not, sadly, refute the assertion. He had also commanded her to braid her hair and put it up in a coil. He didn't like the way she'd been using it to screen her face and her breasts. She had not bathed. She had asked and been denied. Her body reeked of sex. Gerrod's robotic penis did not ejaculate when he climaxed. Though he could make it emit lubricant from its tip at will, that stuff did not smell like semen. The heady fumes of musk coming off her body were all from her own animal secretions. The other girls wrinkled their noses at her, giggled behind their hands and whispered in their masters' ears. She kept silent, her face smoldering. Gerrod and the other robots conversed continually during their game. It was all in their throbbing guttural robo-talk; she had no idea what was being said. Their facial expressions stayed flat and emotionless, Gerrod's included. Poker faces. Gerrod reached around her belly with one hand to fondle her. His touch was not aggressive. It wandered her body absent-mindedly as the game progressed. That only made it all the more excruciating to endure. How long would she have to sit here and put up with this humiliating torment? She couldn't tell who was winning the game, if anyone was. She chewed her bottom lip. She wished she could scratch her nose. She could still have done that if he'd tied her hands in front. She made fists behind her back, and curled her sore and dirt-caked toes as she tight as she could, pressing them hard on the floorboards 'til they hurt. It helped—the itch in her nostrils went away. Her whole body was trembling. Her vagina ached inside, and so did her nipples, and her buttocks. She imagined she could still feel the shape of his cock inside her channel, only now the shape was empty—a hollow impression. Gerrod's fingers were rubbing lazy circles around her navel. Almost tickling, not quite. She wished those fingers were rubbing inside her vagina, and then immediately despised herself for the desire. She wondered if Gerrod would eventually purchase jewelry for her, like the other slave girls. She wondered if the decorations would make her feel less naked and lowly, or more so. The other slaves seemed comfortable with their nudity. How long would it take for her to adjust and stop caring about it the same way, or at the very least be able to fake it? Then she saw Polly on the far side of the room. She might have been there the whole time. Just like Sharon, she was perched on the lap of her new master as he gambled, with her back to him, and her hands appeared to be tied behind her, though over there it was a dice game they were playing, in place of cards. Unlike Sharon, Polly was not sitting still. She was bouncing up and down at a frenzied pace, lightning-tattooed tits flapping on her chest like wings. It was difficult to tell at this distance through the haze if the robot was making her bounce or if she was doing it herself. Her spiked hair style had been flattened; drooping bangs obscured her eyes. Her teeth were clenched—except then as Sharon watched, that changed. Polly threw her head back and opened her mouth as wide as she could. And she screamed. It was blood-curdling. Nobody else in the tavern seemed to notice. "Huuhh-yaahhhaahhrrraahh!" It had made Sharon's face burn, hearing Polly cry out like that. Knowing exactly what it meant. She felt ashamed of both of them. She felt ashamed of her entire species, or at least her gender. She felt dirty and weak and guilty. She realized she felt far more pissed at herself for everything that had happened and was continuing to happen, rather than at Gerrod or all the rest of the robots on this horrid hellish planet. She found she couldn't talk herself out of feeling that way. In fact she didn't want to. Meanwhile across the room Polly slumped limp backward against her master's torso, panting. He only let her rest a few seconds, then shoved her to the floor. Sharon couldn't see much of her after that—the dice table blocked the view—yet she was pretty sure Polly had swiveled around on her knees and put her face in the robot's lap. Sharon could glimpse the top of her head bobbing up and down with the same fervor as she had when she was riding him. Sharon had not fallen alone. And Polly looked to have fallen further, already. Gerrod hadn't made her suck his cock yet. She wondered how long it would be 'til he got around to that. She wondered if it would still vibrate in her mouth—that would probably make her teeth hurt, or maybe her whole damn skull. She wondered how hard it would be to make him come like that—how long would it take? Would it be easier to put up with than when he fucked her, or harder and more horrible? The worst part, at least thinking about it, was the fact she'd have to kneel in front of him. Kneeling on the ground to suck his cock was going to feel much more humiliating than bending over for him, or lying underneath him on a bed. Gerrod's devious fingertips had hooked inside her vagina, which had moistened again. He didn't push them any deeper or move them, just held them in there, barely penetrating. Sharon could concentrate on nothing else after that—nothing except the pressure of his fingertips. It wasn't a strong sensation, and yet at this point it was the most appalling torture in the cosmos. Like a single drop of water on your tongue, when you're dying of thirst. You're better off getting nothing ... She waited as long as she could. He did nothing more. Minutes dragged by like hours, like years. She realized she could bear this no longer. She could not keep still or keep quiet. She moaned and whined and whimpered. It made the other slaves giggle and sneer again. Sharon didn't let it stop her. She moaned again, louder, spread her knees and thrust her crotch against his hand. "Ohhoohhuuhh." "Hold still, slave," he told her, pulling his fingers away. "You're distracting my concentration from my cards." "I can't! I can't! Ma-Master, please! Master!" "What's the matter with you?" "God! You know what the matter is! Dammit!" "Yes. But you have to tell me. You have to ask me nicely." "I'm aroused again. You've made me aroused. I'm wet. I'm wet for you. Again." "I feel it. What do you want me to do about it, Dr. Green?" "Fu ... Fu ..." God, why was it so hard to say it out loud? "Fu ..." Why was she still such a coward and a prude? Couldn't afford that anymore. "Fuck me, Master! Please! Fuck me again! Fuck me! Please!" "No. This time, doctor, you fuck me." He lifted her bottom, shifted her sideways and backwards a tad over his cock, and then just let her drop. She climaxed instantly as she was impaled, with a scream that outdid Polly's. Felt no need to move further after that. His cock still vibrated within her, though its rate was erratic. "Now, now, slave," he said, pinching her nipples, "Don't go to sleep on me. Finish what you started." She really was a slave—a pleasure sex, a fuck slave. She knew it now. She could feel the truth of it suffusing her body—a physical, tangible truth. It wasn't just a concept or a pretense, at this point. In the bedroom when he took her by surprise, she hoped her responses had been a one-time aberration, limited to that occasion. Her system overwhelmed by shock. But no. Conditioning was taking hold. He'd turned her into a fuck slave. If he could make her come again like that, in public surroundings like these, and leave her wanting more, then the android had genuinely tamed her and mastered her. "Oh God. Oh God. I've become a sex-addict. I am enslaved. By a damned robot!" "Yes," he said, "You are. You are mine." She hadn't realized she'd spoken it aloud. No sense holding anything back anymore. "Yes. I am yours." Dr. Sharon Green sniffled, gulped, took a deep breath, and then braced on her filthy toes on the gritty floor and, just as she'd seen Polly do, she got to work galloping herself on her master's cock with all the strength she could muster. The fuck slave fucked. Renewed pleasure flooded her body and mind, drowning out all thought and shame and terror, and that blissful blankness would persist as long as she could keep herself moving ... She must never stop ... never stop ... never stop ...