2.

Amanda opened the door and dropped her bag of schoolbooks on the couch. “2520?” she called. No answer. Well, her lover was probably still out on assignment. POP had several new clients in the metro area, and 2520 was keeping very busy.

She threw off her clothes and wig without thinking, then glanced at the blinking light on the answering machine. “Duncan Matheson,” read the display screen.

So he’d finally tracked her here, Amanda thought, shaking her head. Good thing she’d never gotten more serious about that jerk; he was just a couple of screws too tight to qualify as a stalker.

Amanda deleted the message without listening to it, then padded into the kitchen and pulled an OWF single-serve dinner from the freezer. Since moving in with 2520, she’d had access to even higher quality OWF products, like these meals. The dinners looked misleadingly bland, and they were about as tasty as tofu, but they had ten times the nutritional value of anything she could find in a supermarket. Eating these dinners, Amanda felt herself growing stronger, healthier, and happier by the day. Taste was a small price to pay for something like that. In fact, she didn’t even miss it.

There were a lot of things Amanda didn’t miss these days. Even the lace bodysuit, which had once seemed to essential to her personality, was nothing but a memory of shredded fabric. It had been a nice facade for awhile, and it was certainly closer to the real Amanda than her original look had been; but nudity was so much better.

And perhaps, Amanda speculated, there might be something even better than nudity, something even truer to her nature, hidden so deep inside her that only OWF could bring it out.

Well, if it was there, OWF would bring it out. They were so good at that kind of thing.

Amanda nuked and ate the dinner quickly, then moved on to the computer room. A sticky note was pressed to the monitor, inked in 2520’s distinctive spiky purple script.

“Hey there, puppet,” it read, “Sorry I’m working late, but guess what! POP finally sent us the first video from the New York shoot. I’ve saved it to the desktop. Have a look—and a listen. ;-P”

Amanda knew what that meant. Grinning, she rolled the computer chair away from the desk and drew up the papasan, adjusting the cushion to just the right angle. A towel was already in place.

She settled comfortably into the bowl, tucked in the earbuds (They were already plugged into the speakers), and brought the computer out of sleep mode.

The new file was easy to find, right in the middle of the desktop. It was called simply “5389.” Amanda grinned, then double-clicked the TV-test-pattern icon and settled once more into the cushions.

First came the music: the same track Amanda had been listening to since New York. But this time, for the first time ever, Amanda/5389 didn’t want to stop thinking while she listened to it. She knew 2520 would understand, and approve. Amanda/5389 needed to take in everything she could about this video: first consciously, and then perhaps unconsciously, as she played it again and again and again.

Her lips parted as she watched herself onscreen: nude, hairless, and—just as she’d thought—wallowing in the depths of a delicious, mindless orgasm. She half walked, half slumped between two black-clad technicians as they steered her toward a chair in front of a flickering computer screen.

The video had been shot from behind the computer, so Amanda/5389 couldn’t see what was on the screen, but that didn’t really matter, did it? All that mattered was how gloriously mindfucked she looked in the video, how gloriously mindfucked she’d really been. Watching herself like that made her want to blank out all over again; but she didn’t dare, not when she was so curious about what would happen next.

The technicians shifted their puppetlike charge until she was in the position they wanted. Then they withdrew, and a new figure emerged from the shadows: 2520, wearing a black leather corset, a dog collar, and nothing else. She sauntered up to 5389 and whispered something in her ear.

5389 gave no indication of having heard her, but that wasn’t surprising. She’d been so far gone by that point that Amanda hadn’t realized until now that 2520 had been there at all.

The photographer whispered again, then pointed toward the camera and waved at it.

Watching from the papasan, Amanda gasped. 2520 was waving at her! Now! She’d known all along that Amanda would see this video one day. In fact, she’d probably prepared this whole scene with her in mind.

Amanda’s clit begin to pulse, and she stroked it idly as she continued to stare at the screen.

2520 picked up one of 5389’s limp hands and flopped it at the camera. “Hi, Amanda,” the photographer mouthed, and the girl in the papasan bit her lip and fought not to swoon. God, this was so fucking hot. She really had been a puppet. She really had.

2520 stuck her tongue in the sub’s ear and swirled it around, then withdrew and blew gently.

The girl in the video wasn’t too far gone to notice that. Her eyes rolled and fluttered, telegraphing her latest heights of orgasm to no one but her future self—and, perhaps, 2520.

Amanda struggled to keep her present eyes from rolling up.

Winking at the camera, 2520 picked up an iPod from atop the computer monitor and plugged the buds into 5389’s ears. The mindless sub started to drool almost immediately.

“I su-soooo hot,” Amanda moaned, changing her words just in time to avoid a mantra-trance. But the music was softening her mind even without her assistance, and the flashes reflecting on her video-self’s face were softening her present-self’s features, too. She could feel it.

Amanda struggled to bring her gaze back into focus, while onscreen, 2520 rinsed her hands and picked up the first contact lens.

“She did that?” Amanda marveled, then moaned again as 2520 slipped the cool discs into place and stepped back.

Amanda had seen this image before as a still, and that had been hot enough. But seeing herself as still as that image, while 2520 moved around her and the lights flickered across her unblinking face, was almost too much to take. She understood now that the test-pattern lenses were only the outward manifestation of what had been her entire inner world. The 5389 in the video was a TV without a signal, the inside of her head crackling with static.

Static that was crackling again, now: in her mind and at her clit.

Amanda struggled to hold herself together a little longer; but then the camera zoomed in, filling the monitor with 5389’s blank, ecstatic face. By some trick of the light, Amanda saw that her present face was reflected in the computer screen, superimposed almost perfectly over her past face from the video. Both were equally slack, and the eyes of her present self were tinted with the colors of her past self.

Of course, her present self was only a ghostly overlay atop the older image.

Amanda’s last thought, before the orgasm erased her brain, was that 5389 was the real her, and Amanda was the illusion.

3.

“Hey, puppet,” 2520 drawled, when Amanda returned to herself. Her lover was sitting in the computer chair, looking slyly pleased. The window behind her showed a pitch-black sky. “How long have you been in here?”

Amanda ran a palm across her sweat-slick scalp. “Um, since about seven, I guess. What time is it now?”

“Past midnight. Damn, girl, that’s a new record for you. Congratulations!”

Amanda blushed and dipped her head. “I really am a natural, aren’t I?”

“You’re getting there.” 2520 folded her arms across her bare breasts. “Of course, three months of daily vid trance will do that.”

“Three months?” Amanda frowned very slightly, trying to work out the logic. “But your note said-”

2520 shrugged. “Yeah, I know what the note said. And the note is all you need to remember.” Her eyes twinkled. “I just like watching the look on your face when I make you forget.”

Amanda giggled. “What did you make me forget?”

“Nothing. Forget I mentioned it.”

4.

Amanda walked proudly across the stage, smiling at the thick scattering of bald heads and altered eyes among the audience. So many of OWF’s products and philosophies were taking off these days. Even the form-fitting white bodysuits were flying off the racks, thanks to new dietary supplements and motivational programs that actually worked. At last ordinary citizens could feel comfortable showing off their true selves. Thanks to One World Future, they could have the same perfect bodies as the celebrities they worshiped. The same perfect, identical bodies.

Conformity was nothing to sneer at these days, thanks to the latest research indicating that the people who lived the longest, happiest lives were those who experienced the deepest sense of belonging. Those who fit in. Those who conformed.

Now that science had proven what most people secretly suspected, they had the excuse they’d always longed for, to join the growing crowd. And they could do it with their heads high and their consciences clear, because all they were doing was taking care of themselves.

As for the nonconformists with their strange hair and stranger fashions, well, they weren’t so much envied as pitied. These days, rebellion was about as attractive as an open sore.

Of course, conformity wouldn’t have been nearly as popular without celebrity endorsements. Models like Amanda had played their part (The New York images were always high on the Google search lists), but billionaire actors with shaved heads and test-patterned eyes did more than Amanda ever could.

Walking down the steps at the far end of the stage, the new graduate gazed out across the audience and met 2520’s smiling eyes - still blue, as she had no need for superficial displays of conformity. She was light years beyond that point. “We did it!” Amanda mouthed, and flashed her lover a thumbs-up.

With the change of major, it had taken Amanda six years to graduate rather than four, but she knew she’d done the right thing. Zoology would have been interesting, but a double major in human biology and computer science would be much more useful to One World Future. In fact, the company had already promised her a job—and a salary that had made her eyes bug when she read the letter.

2520 had only chuckled and squeezed her shoulders. “You’re one of the elite now, puppet.”

5.

And Amanda was about to become even more elite. After lunch at a newly-opened OWF restaurant (all the nutritional value of the frozen meals, plus color and taste—purely to attract the masses), they packed a few necessities and headed for the airport. One World Future was flying them into Washington, DC, for the next phase of Amanda’s training.

A stiff chauffeur in mirrored sunglasses met them at the airport and whisked them out to a compound in the Northern Virginia countryside.

“We’re bringing you in through the public entrance,” 2520 explained as they drew up to a huge, white building made entirely of concrete and mirrors. “So you’ll need to keep your clothes on for just a little longer.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Amanda chirped teasingly.

She followed her lover through the quiet halls, past a number of anonymous OWF employees who nodded politely but didn’t speak. 2520 obviously knew her way around quite well, and the OWF staff obviously knew her.

After some time, they reached a door marked “No Unauthorized Entrance.” Amanda heard a tiny click as 2520 stepped forward. Then the door slid open.

She turned to her lover in surprise. “What did you do? How did you unlock it?”

2520 smiled mysteriously. “You’ll see. And by the time you leave, you’ll be able to do it, yourself.”

Beyond the door was a small, simple room with a couple of benches, some hooks on the wall, and another door. “Now we’re deep enough inside that we can be ourselves,” 2520 said, and began to unbutton her blouse. Amanda quickly followed, and when they both were nude, 2520 opened the second door just as mysteriously as she’d opened the first.

Amanda stepped into a much larger room that was half office, half laboratory.

2520 steered her toward a desk in the near corner, seating herself behind it and directing Amanda to take the position opposite her.

“Don’t tell me,” Amanda chuckled, scootching her bare bottom against the vinyl. “You’ve been running everything yourself, the whole time.”

2520 flashed an oddly chilly smile. “Certainly not. I submit, just as we all do. We were born to it.”

“We were all born to submit,” Amanda echoed thoughtlessly.

“I’m here with you now because I’ve been your primary guide into One World Future. It only makes sense for me to take you on to the next step. The biggest one.”

Amanda’s heart sped up, and she felt a pulse begin in her head - and her clit. This was it. This was the moment. She was going to be inducted into the Mysteries.

“Now, I’m going to do this slowly,” said 2520. “Don’t be afraid, puppet.”

“Why would I-” Amanda began, then found herself struck dumb. The irises and pupils of 2520’s eyes had warped from round to rectangular, then darkened and split into a series of narrow vertical bars. A row of numbers and letters swam into view beneath them: the sixteen digits of 2520’s serial number.

Her warm, lively, human eyes had been replaced by a pair of bar codes.

The woman behind the desk spoke in a cool, accentless voice, her words as regular as a metronome. “The 2520 you knew these last six years was an artificial reconstruction of an individual no longer in existence. You are now viewing node 00052Z6OII472520 in her natural state.”

6.

The blood drained from Amanda’s face. Too shocked, at first, to do anything else, she just stared at the rigid thing behind the desk, the thing that seemed to have crawled up from the depths of her lover’s mind and taken her over. Wiped her out. Erased her.

“Nancy,” she gasped at last, using 2520’s real name almost for the first time since she’d learned it. She’d never thought of her lover as anything but “2520,” even when she’d believed she was Nancy. But somehow the photographer’s real name was the only one that came to mind now.

The thing behind the desk blinked calmly. “Nancy Steinhauer was subsumed before you ever met her,” it said. “She exists now only in the memories of a more perfect being. You, Amanda Lanier, knew only a reproduction of Nancy Steinhauer—and you knew node 00052Z6DNY472520, beneath that reproduction. You knew only me.”

Emotion finally breached the wall of shock. “No,” Amanda whimpered. “No. No, no, no.”

But the “node” continued to speak, and somehow, Amanda found herself listening. “Of course,” the creature said, “There is no ‘me,’ any longer. I use personal pronouns merely for ease of communication.”

Amanda looked up, tears blurring 2520’s features and making her eyes look even more alien. “I fell in love with a robot?”

“I am not a robot, and you did not fall in love with me. Your love is a construct built of chemicals, pheromones, and hypnotic imprinting. It is no more real than the camouflage I wore in your presence.”

“No!” Amanda insisted, hugging her arms tight around her. “I loved 2520! I loved Nancy!”

“00027X8POP475389, disengage implanted bisexuality for exactly fifteen minutes, and disengage implanted romanticism until further notice.”

Amanda sat back, blinking. She felt as if the node-thing had reached inside her head and yanked out six year’s worth of what she’d thought was heartfelt emotion. She still felt a friendly affection for the, the reconstruction she’d thought was Nancy Steinhauer; but it was only a friendly affection. It held none of the love she’d felt right up until a moment ago, none of the passion. In fact, it didn’t even hold much of an ache when she thought about losing Nancy.

When she thought about Duncan, on the other hand-

Duncan, who’d ‘d only been trying to warn her, after all. Amanda saw that now. Now that it was too late even to regret pushing him away. And to her great surprise, she didn’t regret it. Her ex had graduated two years ago and taken a job with a software firm in the Midwest. He was safe, far from Atlanta and DC and all this OWF insanity. And Amanda was...she was...was she...?

She probed the absences in her mind, like holes left by extracted teeth. What have you done to me?” she murmured, suddenly more puzzled than horrified.

“Today is the culmination of six long years of work. Amanda Lanier, from the day you downloaded the first Power of Pleasure program and agreed to test One World Future’s products, you have been subjected to increasing levels of physical and mental modification. Some of the additives in our products improved your health and stamina, while others altered your brain chemistry, making you more receptive to Arnold Imhoff’s particular brand of imprinting.”

2520’s freakish eyes met hers. “Amanda Lanier, you are a very different person than you were six years ago. You are stronger, healthier, and happier than you could ever have imagined. In fact, your lifespan has already increased by at least a decade and a half. As our products continue to improve, and as you continue to consume them-”

Amanda started to protest, but 2520 shushed her with the wave of a hand. “As you continue to consume them, you will continue to evolve. Our scientists expect today’s nodes to live well into their third centuries.”

“Live like you live?” Amanda snorted, but she didn’t sound nearly as appalled as she’d intended.

“Yes. Live strong, happy, healthy lives. Lives of the kind that humans were born to live.”

“We were all born to submit,” Amanda echoed thoughtlessly.

“You don’t even know what you just said, do you?”

Amanda blinked.

“Even though you retain some independence for the moment, you are already very deeply conditioned. If you weren’t, you would have tried to flee by now. And yet you’ve only sat here, fairly passively, as you’ve learned how little of your mind remains free...as you’ve deduced, no doubt, what must happen to you next.”

Goosebumps rose on Amanda’s arms. She had deduced that, yes. And she’d tried to protest, but how easily 2520 had shushed her! Even now, knowing she should at least want to run, she didn’t. Not really.

The thought made her dizzy but totally failed to provoke a sense of terror. “Oh God, what have you done to me?” she whispered again.

“I’ve prepared you for ecstasy.” 2520 pressed the button on the monitor atop the desk, then turned the screen around.

Amanda gaped. There she sat, in a video that seemed to have been taken during the contact lens photo shoot, the one she remembered only through pictures.

“Amanda Lanier is nothing,” her recorded self moaned, stroking her pussy while 2520 kneaded her breasts from behind. “Like every other product of her flawed society, she is in need of perfection. In order to be perfected, she must submit. Submission is right. Submission is natural. Submission is ecstasy.” Her eyes fluttered and her body bucked in its chair. “Amanda Lanier submits. Amanda Lanier is in ecstasy.”

2520 leaned forward, drawing Amanda’s attention away from the screen. “You had already learned, by that point, how to remain motionless while orgasming,” she said. “So you can imagine how intense this particular orgasm must have been, to move you like that.”

Amanda swallowed. Her clit was throbbing all over again, just watching the video: a realization that amazed her but brought no fear. All she felt was a tiny twinge of worry.

“That was in New York, of course,” said 2520. “Thursday afternoon. And this is a clip from Friday.”

The scene changed. 5389 was dressed in her lace bodysuit now, the one she’d left so very far behind her. But wait, hadn’t 2520 torn that one apart earlier in the week? Then there must have been a second suit - and she’d left that one even further behind the first, since she didn’t remember it at all. Shit.

Amanda stared at herself onscreen. Every curve was plainly visible, but her head was a lump of meaningless swirls. She stood in a hall of mirrors, turning, posing, admiring an infinity of reflections. Once again, she was chanting.

“Personal identity is an illusion, and a hindrance to ecstasy. I release the illusion and embrace the ecstasy. Amanda Lanier is the illusion. Node 00027X8POP475389 is the ecstasy.”

The lace drone began to buck, then to tear at the fabric covering her face. “Amanda Lanier is an illusion,” she chanted as her sex-swollen lips sprang free. ‘I’ and ‘me’ are illusions. Node 00027X8POP475389 uses personal pronouns merely for ease of communication.”

Her nose appeared, and the rip in the lace spread higher. “I am node 00027X8POP475389, and I submit.”

Bar-coded eyes shone white in their clammy sockets, and the video froze.

“Don’t worry, puppet,” said 2520, the familiar term sparking a flicker of revulsion in Amanda’s chest. “You were only wearing contact lenses. You weren’t ready for your new eyes, then.”

“And I am now?” Amanda shuddered, but not from revulsion; that flicker had already died. Her nipples stiffened as she realized the truth, and she resisted the urge to caress them.

“You know the answer to that question as well as I do.” 2520’s attention shifted back to the screen. “There are dozens of videos I might show you, to prove how thoroughly you submit to One World Future already. But we have time for only one more scene before your implanted bisexuality reengages.”

The video switched again, and Amanda realized 2520 must be controlling it the same way she controlled the doors. The same way Amanda would be able to control them, once she left this place.

Of course, by then, she would no longer be Amanda.

Her traitorous pussy quivered at the thought.

The new scene showed Amanda and 2520 undressing aboard an OWF jet, tarmac visible through the windows. For a moment Amanda thought this was more New York footage, taken the day they left for home; but the scenery behind the tarmac didn’t look at all like New York. “That’s Atlanta,” she realized. “That’s today.”

The node-woman inclined her head. “I haven’t permitted you to realize, before now, that you have no memory of anything that happened while we were in transit. Now I will show you what you have forgotten.”

The video fast-forwarded until the two of them were seated. Then the 2520 onscreen, her face alight with a love that looked no less real in retrospect, smiled at her clueless victim. “I’ve downloaded a special new mp3 just for this occasion,” she said. “Want to give it a try? It’ll help pass the time to Washington.”

The present Amanda, watching her past self nod eagerly, realized this was the last thing she remembered until their arrival in DC.

Then the mp3 began, and she understood. Onscreen, her past self slowly arched her back, then let out a sudden yowl. Her eyes rolled up in her head until the barest sliver of brown showed beneath her lashes, and she began to writhe in abject ecstasy.

Tarmac flashed by outside the windows, faster and faster, until it vanished suddenly and was replaced by blue.

Onscreen, Amanda’s eyes continued to flutter and roll, but her body relaxed and her yowling softened, then gradually slurred into words. “I submit,” she moaned, rolling her head limply from shoulder to shoulder. “I submit. Node 00027X8POP475389 submits. Node 00027X8POP475389 is ready for perfection.”

Suddenly the video switched to fast-forward, and the hypnotized victim’s head whipped back and forth, back and forth, as she continued to chant. Tarmac appeared in the windows again, and trees. This wasn’t DC.

The present Amanda glanced a question at 2520.

“Refueling in Little Rock,” the node answered coolly.

Their jet took off again with Amanda still tossing and chanting in fast-forward. There was a brief interlude where 2520 inserted a catheter, then another when 2520 fed her captive from a tube. The sky had begun to darken by the time the jet touched down for its second refueling.

Watching, Amanda felt a sick fascination bloom behind her eyes. They’d landed in DC in full daylight. She licked dry lips. “How long were we in transit?”

“Thirty-six hours. We traveled as far west as Denver and as far north as Indianapolis.”

“Oh God.”

Amanda’s eyes met 2520’s, and suddenly those bar codes didn’t look so horrible after all. In fact, they looked almost familiar, especially when coupled with 2520’s lush black lashes. Amanda inhaled deeply, scenting musk and something more. Her fingertips found her nipples and brushed them further erect.

“Your fifteen minutes are up,” 2520 commented. She rose and walked around the desk, stopping before Amanda and holding out her hand. “Come with me, puppet. I have more to show you.”

7.

I’m going to be “subsumed,” Amanda thought dazedly, even as she took 2520’s hand. My last remaining scrap of self will be a serial number tattooed across my eyeballs.

Her clit thumped happily in agreement.

And not only am I not scared, I’m almost ready to cream.

But of course, it was just node 00027X8POP475389 who was ready to cream. The problem was that node 00027X8POP475389 was a part of her, cobbled together from Amanda’s own thoughts and brain cells.

And how much of her was node 00027X8POP475389 already?

It was hard to say. Even after seeing the videos, Amanda still felt free. Well, mostly free; after all, she hadn’t run. But she still believed she had a personal identity.

Then again, maybe that really was an illusion—and if it wasn’t, it would be soon.

Still not horrified, she shuddered again.

2520 led her deeper into the laboratory, to a low, tilted chair that looked like something out of a kinky dentist’s office. This is where I’ll be brainwashed, Amanda thought.

2520 settled herself into the chair.

“No,” she said in response to Amanda’s gasp. “This is not where you will be perfected. But it is where you will receive your final preparation for perfection.” She reached up to a hanging rack and pulled down a pair of what looked like earbuds tipped with long, flexible probes.

2520 slipped the probes deep into her ears, then met Amanda’s eyes again. “Don’t be alarmed, Amanda Lanier. The probes are not uncomfortable. My eyes are not the only parts of my body that have been replaced.”

She bent down and buckled her ankles into the separate, jointed leg pieces of the chair, then reached beneath it for longer straps to bind her waist and chest. “Amanda Lanier, you must secure my wrists.”

Dreamily, Amanda complied. They’d played bondage games often enough, back in Atlanta, though Amanda had always been the one bound. Of course, she was bound now, too, wasn’t she? And mental bonds were the best kind.

The sex-scent hung around them like a fragrant cloud.

“Amanda Lanier,” said the thing she’d thought was her lover, “I have asked you to help bind me because I am about to show you another aspect of submission to One World Future.

“The state in which I exist at the moment is useful for conversing with other nodes, and with the non-interfaced. In this state I can see and hear and even think, though of course not independently. You might say that Arnold Imhoff thinks through me, using my skills and experiences in the ways that will best further his goals.”

Amanda nodded. Now that the shock and fear had worn off, she was surprised to find herself almost expectant. She understood that the emotion came from node 00027X8POP475389, but that hardly mattered now, did it?

Amanda could almost be grateful that OWF had taken the time to help her enjoy her brainwashing.

“But there is another state of existence, for fully interfaced nodes,” 2520 went on, “a state of one-way-only communication. In this state, all non-necessary organic brain functions grow dormant, while the techno-organic structures become even more highly receptive to programming.

“You have experienced a pale, strictly organic shadow of this state yourself, many times. However, it brought you only amnesia, because you lacked the cerebral enhancements that would have allowed you to appreciate it properly. Now, Amanda Lanier, you will witness the ecstasy attainable by a fully interfaced node.

“When I enter programming mode, my body will become almost completely limp, thus necessitating the restraints. My mind, also, will be almost completely still; and yet you will see that my pleasure surpasses anything you have ever experienced, or seen me experience, at any time prior to this moment.”

Amanda licked her lips. Was it wrong to be so eager? It didn’t feel wrong.

If 2520 noticed her captive’s growing arousal, she chose not to comment. “This particular session,” she continued, “will last exactly two hours. While I am being programmed, you may do whatever you wish - with me, or with anything else in this room. You and I both know that you will do nothing to harm One World Future or its property.”

Amanda blushed and nodded. She knew she’d obey. And she knew OWF’s “property” was more than just the furniture in the room. Butterflies massed in her pussy and fluttered upwards, all the way to her brain.

“Again,” said the node-woman, “I will make the transition slowly, for your benefit.” She settled her head deeper into the headrest and stared at the ceiling. After a moment, the vertical bars in her eyes began to widen, then to fill with color. Amanda realized what was happening well before 2520’s eyes turned completely into test patterns.

She dropped her gaze to her faux-lover’s lips and saw that they’d gone red and puffy, just as they always did during lovemaking. She half expected 2520 to moan, as she so often did; but all that escaped those slack lips was the barest hint of a sigh. Somehow, though, that sigh was filled with unspeakable promise.

Amanda’s gaze traveled lower, to 2520’s jutting nipples and dew-drenched cleft. She wondered how much 2520’s clit had swollen and stepped to the foot of the chair, then slid the segmented legs apart and leaned inward.

Amanda sighed herself, inhaling the heady, honeyed musk as she stared at the wonder between 2520’s thighs. The node-woman’s clit was larger than Amanda had ever seen it: twice as large, and smooth, shiny, and red as a dew-fresh rosebud.

Just for a second, Amanda thought of Duncan again. Bisexual imprinting, she reminded herself. But the thought of imprinting brought her back to her own state of mind, and 2520’s.

She glanced back at the node-woman’s head, lolling against its headrest. Her face was as empty as a poorly-made doll’s. Amanda almost imagined she could hear the hiss of static behind the test-patterned eyes. Or was it more of a buzz?

Yes, that was it: a deep, throbbing buzz. Like a vibrator for the brain.

“2520?” she whispered, though she knew she’d get no answer. “Hey, 2520?”

The node-woman gazed sightlessly upward. Rivulets of glaze swirled from her tear ducts and spread across her unblinking eyes, lubricating them.

Amanda’s jaw fell slack.

Fighting the urge to swoon, she pushed the chair legs—and 2520’s legs—further apart so she could move in closer. “Hey, babe,” she whispered, trying and failing to sound teasing, “who’s the puppet now, eh? Who’s the puppet now?”

She took 2520’s chin between her fingers and waggled it up and down. “’I’m the puppet now, Amanda,’” she answered in 2520’s’s stead; but her voice sounded less like mockery than fascination.

Suddenly embarrassed, Amanda released 2520’s chin and watched it sag slowly back toward her throat. Her hand was wet, and she rubbed it on 2520’s thigh.

Then she looked down again. That rosy clit was even bigger now, and visibly pulsing. Wow. OWF must have modified that body part, too. Did they do that for all their nodes? Amanda supposed they must.

She breathed in deeply, rolling her eyes, and found herself suddenly on her knees. Acting purely on instinct, she knelt closer to the slick, red bud and exhaled onto it.

It practically jumped at her.

Giggling nervously, Amanda leaned even closer. How much bigger could it get? And what would it feel like now, if she took it in her mouth? She’d tongued 2520’s clit thousands of times before, but not when it had looked or smelled this wonderful.

Just for a moment, she remembered that these musings were only node-think: they’d been imposed on her from outside. But really, why did that matter, now? OWF might have made her think this way, but she was thinking this way. It was the only way she could think now. And it wasn’t like she had any hope of escaping—or any desire to escape. She might as well enjoy her last few hours of selfhood.

Amanda bent forward to kiss 2520’s clit, then to tease it with her tongue, giggle/moaning at the pulse and the delightful new taste. She sucked it into her mouth just as far as it would go, which was surprisingly far.

At last Amanda noticed the pulse at her own clit and wondered how large it had grown. She reached down to feel it for herself. Hmm! Not nearly as big as 2520’s, but still a personal best.

Stroking herself now, she let her free hand creep up to slip a pair of fingers into 2520’s cunt. It was gloriously, unbelievably wet. The muscles clenched around her fingers like a baby’s fist, drawing them in deeper.

Orgasm hovered at the edges of Amanda’s mind. She might have thirty seconds more of thought if she really made an effort.

Of course, a large part of her didn’t want to make an effort; but the rest of her still felt curious about what was happening to 2520. What was going to happen to her.

Moaning, Amanda slipped a couple of fingers inside herself, a couple more inside 2520. The pelvis above her began to shift and buck.

Oh, so 2025 could still move! And if she was in ecstasy before, when she’d been completely motionless, then what sort of heights had she reached now?

Even caught up in the moment, Amanda had to know. She raised herself just for an instant, just to see what 2520’s face looked like in the midst of this outrageous ecstasy.

The node-woman’s face was as blank as ever, but a ripple of distortion raced across her test-patterned eyes.

It was the last thing Amanda saw before the tsunami orgasm crashed over her. Two hours later, her mind was still completely flat when 2520 returned to awareness and mentally disengaged her bonds.

Amanda never even had the chance to say goodbye to herself.