12.

Trixie8 lay snug in her storage box, pressed into a woman-shaped indentation in the candy-colored foam. Her dildos pumped in time with the whispers in her ears, the flashes in her eyes. Her mind was so deliciously empty that she didn't notice the buzz, not even when it rose to fever pitch. She didn't even notice the click. But then awareness flowed into her, and she noticed everything at once.

For a long moment she continued to lie still, absorbing the latest information from her sisters. The social worker had been here - excellent! That meant she had Mistress Nicole's approval to begin Phase Two. The SW hadn't left her any instructions, but that was only to be expected. The comp crew had still been a force to be reckoned with at the time. Fortunately, she wouldn't have to worry about them anymore. Next time around, Mistress would send her a real message. She couldn't wait to hear from her again.

When this Trixie thought of Nicole as "Mistress," it wasn't because she'd been programmed to do so. Leigh Holliday was a natural-born sub who'd volunteered for this assignment entirely of her own free will. For her, nothing could be hotter than being refashioned into a robot, letting her real mind be bound and buried beneath a mountain of programming, and marching around on grinning tiptoe like a brainless sex toy. Best of all, Leigh could wake up from her doll-hood periodically and reflect on it with pleasure. The thought of all that mindless obedience brought her off just as surely as the dildos slurping between her legs.

Even so, Leigh was glad she'd finally have a chance to stretch. The last two weeks of incremental awareness had been spent just lying in her box, plotting. It had been her decision to soften up a guardian with kisses and then suborn him. She and Mistress had discussed that option beforehand, of course, but they couldn't have known GlobeNet's security arrangements until the Trixies arrived on site. While Naomi had briefed her team on the Trixies, Leigh had briefed her team on the GlobeNetters. She'd relayed her commands through the synch lines, finishing about five minutes ahead of Naomi herself. Then she'd clenched her jaw just so and returned to mindless Trixie-hood. The doll Kari Tomlinson had taken out of her box had no memory of the spy she'd been scant minutes ago.

But now, mind restored, Leigh looked through the plastic and found Henderson kneeing before her. That would mean O'Reilly was in the observation booth, and maybe one or two other guardians, as well. They couldn't afford to congregate as often as they'd like yet, but Leigh knew Mistress would have assigned some extra backup for tonight.

"Automatic override L. Holliday," said Leigh, and the lights around her head stopped flashing. The buzzing in her ears ceased a moment later, and then the cranial jacks and dildos withdrew. "Restraints open," she commanded, and her faux twist-ties fell away. She reached out a hand, still deliciously smooth and stiff, and pushed open the door of her box. Henderson gaped at her in wide-eyed admiration. "Hello, slave," Leigh chirped in her Trixie-fied voice.

Henderson flushed and shuddered, then bowed quickly to the floor. "Lady," she murmured. "I am yours to command."

Lady, not Mistress; only one held proper claim to that title. "Are the team members gone?"

"Yes, Lady. The wing is empty of all but Mistress's possessions."

"Well done, slave."

The guardian squirmed in place, mewing softly.

"Give me an earphone."

Still bowing, Henderson passed over the device, warm from long minutes of clutching while she waited for her Lady to awaken. Leigh slid it into place and tapped it once. "O'Reilly?"

"Yes, Lady?" His voice was wonderfully obsequious.

"How many are with you in the booth?"

"Two, Lady. Holmes and Booker."

"Good slaves. Keep an eye on the monitors while I explore."

"Yes, Lady."

Leigh returned her gaze to Henderson, peeping hopefully upward. "You may stay here and masturbate."

"Thank you, Lady!" The guardian's hands plunged instantly to her waistband.

"But with your clothes on. I want you ready to assist me at a moment's notice."

Henderson flushed prettily. "Of course, Lady!" She tapped her own earphone. "I'll hear you if you call."

"Good slave." Leigh stepped around her, enjoying the feel of her stiffly graceful body and staring eyes. She couldn't look to her left or right without turning her head, but her field of vision was wider; and of course she didn't need to blink. It felt so damn hot to be a doll.

Leigh marched down the hall and into the nearest office, Tony Rodenko's. A robot action figure crouched at the edge of his computer table. She grinned and tickled its belly before punching the "on" button.

A red and green network menu bloomed in the air before her. "Security override lholliday," Leigh typed, and a second menu appeared. No one at GlobeNet had ever seen this one before. Well, no one save the comp crew, and they'd only seen it this afternoon when they installed it. Leigh patched into the Recycled Toys database and began downloading.

Suddenly her earphone beeped. "Lady?" It was Booker. "We have a problem."

13.

Anne Jacobs grumbled as she stabbed the thumbplate outside A-Wing. "It's Jacobs," she said, glaring into the camera eye. "I've left my car keys in my office. Let me in!"

"Yes, Ma'am." Anne didn't recognize the voice on the intercom, but she hadn't gone out of her way to befriend the guardians. She stood there and fumed for both of the seconds it took to activate the door lock. Anne didn't have time for this shit.

The door whooshed open and she darted through, noting the glow under Tony's door as she headed for her office. Had Rodenko neglected to turn off his computer, or was he working late tonight? Bucking for a promotion, perhaps? He'd better not be; Anne had already lost out on one promotion, and look what happened to the cunt who stole it from her.

Not that Anne had anything to do with Renee's fate. Not much, anyway. Just a well-placed phone call.

Anne was half tempted to try Tony's door, but she really was in a hurry. It was Rubber Night at Melons. She practically lunged into her office, then stopped dead, peering around. Where the hell were her keys? On the desk? No. In a drawer? No, no, no. Under the desk? She paused in the act of crouching. What the fuck was that noise?

Thumps and what might have been a muffled yell.

"Tony?" she called. No answer. Softly she tiptoed down the hall to his office. All was quiet now. She steepled her fingers against the door and pushed gently.

Bam!

Anne jumped.

"Help! Heeeeelp!"

She could hear the screams more clearly now, and they definitely weren't coming from Tony's office. She glanced down the hall to the closed door of the storage room. There shouldn't be anyone in there except the Trixies.

Oh, wait. Anne bit her lip as the thought blossomed in her head. Holy shit - could that be Renee?

"Help me! Somebody get me out of here!"

It had to be Renee. And oh, the deliciously irony of it: that Anne of all people should be the one to find her. She could see the headlines already. Hell, she could write the stories! If only she didn't have to actually rescue the bitch to make it happen. Well, at least she could make Renee suffer for it.

So intent was Anne on her plotting that she totally forgot the security guards.

Grinning a little, she crept on down the hall and opened the door to the storage room. There were the ten Trixie boxes, propped up at an angle just short of vertical. And there were the ten Trixies, laid out oh so neatly on their candy colored foam.

Well, nine of them were laid out neatly. The tenth was struggling in her restraints, rocking her box but getting nowhere. Her perma-smile had curdled into a grimace of desperation.

Anne reset her own face to an expression of sympathy. "Renee?"

The blond head swung beneath its visor. The eyes grew even wider than before. "Anne? Oh, thank goodness! Anne! I'm awake! Get me out of here!"

"Oh, poor Renee!" Anne rushed to the box and wrapped her fingers around the tab, but only pretended to try to open it. "Damn, it's stuck!"

Renee writhed in her bonds. "Don't do this to me, Anne!"

"Do what? The tab is jammed - see?" They both knew Renee couldn't see the tab: her head was trapped by the visor. "Don't worry, I'll keep working on it." She grunted and twiddled, just for effect. "So, what's it like, Renee, being a robot? You still remember it, don't you?"

"I remember you putting a collar on me, yes, and having me bitten, and forcing me to-"

"All in the name of restoring your awareness," Anne shrugged blithely. "And look how well it worked! Goodwin, you're about to make me famous! Damn this lock. But you know, I think I have some lubricant in my office. You remember the lubricant, don't you?"

"Don't leave me, Anne!" begged Renee. "You can't leave me!"

"It'll just be for a second," grinned her rescuer. "Just long enough to find the tools I need. You wouldn't object to that, would you? After all, I'm the only one who can save you."

And with that, she turned and almost ran into a trio of guardians.

"Oh, hey," she managed, trying to smile. "I was just coming to get you guys." They stared at her with oddly bland expressions. "Renee's back, see?"

Apparently they didn't.

"Renee's not back," chuckled a voice behind her. "Automatic override L. Holliday."

Slowly, dazedly, Anne turned again. There was nothing frantic about the captive's demeanor now. Her smile had returned, seemingly fuller and more wicked than before. One eye closed in a broad dolly wink. "Restraints open," she said, and Anne gasped as the twist-ties flew wide. Then the guardians seized her and dragged her backwards as the Trixie pushed open her box.

"Sweet little Annie," said the woman. "I'm so glad it was you who discovered us."

"Who are you?" gasped Anne. She struggled fruitlessly against the binding arms.

"My name's Holliday, but don't bother trying to remember it. You won't."

"You're not going to-" Her eyes flashed across the row of Trixie boxes, settling at last on the one Holliday had vacated.

The false Trixie chuckled. "Annie-girl, that's the last time you'll ever tell me what I will and won't do." Her chin flicked toward the guardians. "Holmes, strip her."

Anne gaped as the guard ripped into her blouse. In other circumstances she might have enjoyed the rough play, but now? She was terrified.

What had this woman done to him? To all of them? She stared into his face, searching for any of the typical traces of recycling; but he seemed completely clear-eyed and focused - just sort of...happy. Her gaze dropped to his pants and she gasped at the bulge of his erection.

Anne began to scream before she'd even known she was going to. "Help! Help! Help! Heeeeeeeeelp!"

Holliday winced at the volume of her yells, but otherwise seemed to enjoy them. She waited until Anne had screamed herself hoarse, then laid a gentle finger on her lips. "Poor little Annie-girl. You still don't get it. The only ones who can hear you are the ones who only listen to me. Don't you know this wing is soundproofed?"

Anne thought of the night shift workers in the other five wings: reporters, anchors, camera operators, technicians - hundreds of people, and all completely out of reach. But if she could just make it past these zombies and into the building's hub....

She jerked and strained, sweated and grunted, but the guards' grip held firm. At last she could do no more and hung exhausted between them. Holmes ripped the final shred of her panties away, and she was naked before her captors.

"All right," chirped Holliday. "Now it's Annie's turn to play in the toy box."

"No," Anne moaned, but her voice was as weak as her body. She felt herself spun around and shoved into place. The foam expanded around her, tucking her in tight.

"Restraints close," said Holiday, and Anne felt the thin, strong wires circle her limbs. Then the visor dropped down, warping the edges of her vision.

"Now then," said Holliday, sounding like a little girl playing teacher. "You're about to get a special treat, Annie-girl. Since you couldn't wait to find out what we were up to, we're going to give you an early peek. Just a peek, though. Mistress isn't ready to gather up all her toys yet. She's having too much fun playing with them."

"No," Anne trembled. There was nothing else left to say.

"Yes," beamed Holliday. "Ohhhh yes. She could take you all right now, if she wanted. She owns the entire team of guardians. Zap-zap-zap with the stun pistols, and then into the boxes with the lot of you. But where's the pleasure in that?"

She moved in close, caressing Anne's shuddering breasts. "You know about pleasure, don't you, Anne? How to sustain it, how to prolong it, how to squeeze it for all it's worth?" She pinched the captive's nipples hard on the last phrase, and Anne gasped. To her shame, she felt herself growing wet.

"I know you've always preferred to hold the reins," said Holliday, "but let me show you how enjoyable being reined can be. I promise, after tonight, you'll never want to play domme again." She stepped back and jerked her chin at Henderson. "Your turn, slave."

The guardian stepped forward, baring her teeth in a feral smile. Anne flinched away from the avidity in her face. This was a recyclee? The others would never believe it. She had to hold on, had to warn them, had to remember the name: Holliday, the Trixie who wasn't a Trixie. But oh shit, what was that in Henderson's hand?

The guard held out a long, thick syringe containing three parallel chambers of fluid. A slight squeeze of the plunger brought a drop of liquid to the needle tip. Drugs! Recycling drugs! Again Anne squirmed, whimpering wordlessly, but there was nowhere for her to go. Henderson grasped her arm in a strong, steady grip and drove the needle home.

Anne screamed, but Holliday clamped a hand over her mouth and intoned, "Initiate Program Holliday Beta."

Sweet spice filled Anne's mouth, and she struggled futilely to spit it out.

"Subject: Anne Jacobs," said Holliday.

Subject - that's me, isn't it? Anne's concentration was already wavering, but she struggled to hold onto her captrix's words. She'd beat this thing. She was strong enough.

"Customize Anne Jacobs 2.0 according to the following specifications," said Holliday.

Anne focused on the non-Trixie's mouth, desperate to catch the words, but her eyes got tangled in the plush red lips and perfect teeth. Didn't this bitch ever stop smiling?

"Submissive in all.......trigger word 'cunt'.......mindless arousal." The words faded in and out. Anne squinted, trying to concentrate, but her gaze kept snagging on the doll woman's eyes. Just as flat and sparkly as glass. How could anything that looked like that think?

But thinking was Anne's trouble now, not Holliday's. The false Trixie stepped back, and Anne found her eyes still locked on the spot where she'd been. Angrily she tried to follow her movements, but it was just beyond her ability. A moan escaped her throat. No! This can't be happening! No one does this kind of shit to ... me?

Blue eyes glittered close again, blurred now by a second pane of plastic that slid between them and Anne. Holliday had shut the door of her box, trapping Anne inside.

Flash! Bright swirls of light spun around her, demanding attention, although she could no more focus on them than on the face beyond the plastic.

Buzz! Thick, soft plugs bored into her ears and whispered their sweet nothings.

Anne struggled to decipher them, but pump pump! Oh! That felt so good! Oh! There it was again! That was just the spot! Oh! Mmmmm!

There was something Anne was supposed to remember, but - flash! buzz! pump! mmm! - it was just too hard. All she really wanted to do was just to lie here in this nice, soft foam and soak up the pleasure. That's right, just give up. Give in. The box would take care of her.

Leigh watched her captive for several minutes, enjoying the slack jaw and jutting nipples, the spreading pupils and increasingly sticky cunt. That's how I look when I'm in there. Mindless, helpless, one gigantic orgasm from head to toe. She could almost feel envious of her captive. But only almost; she knew what lay in store for this one.

14.

Leigh left Holmes and Henderson with Anne, and took O'Reilly as a guard while she finished her work on the teams' computers. After the downloads were finished, she proceeded to the uploads, transferring the personnel files from Naomi's machine directly into the RT databanks.

Then she strolled back to the storage room. Anne's recycling was almost finished now. She was getting a heavier dose of programming than any of the guardians; but that was only fair, considering.

Leigh waited patiently, enjoying the stiff stillness of her remade body. She slipped naturally into poses now and felt no need to fidget. Her eyes remained fixed on the captive, who even now blinked more frequently than Leigh did. She's still too human...but that will change, in the end. For now, we have to keep up appearances.

The box buzzed to a stop and the captive shuddered as the stimuli withdrew. You miss it already, don't you, babe? But don't worry. You'll get another shot at the box. Leigh opened the lid and unlocked the new recyclee's restraints with a word.

Anne's eyes rolled slowly into focus. "Lady," she said, "I am yours to command."

"You certainly are," purred Leigh. "Come on out and let me have a look at you."

Anne obeyed and stood mutely as Leigh walked around her, poking, prodding, lifting, nipping. At last they stood face to face, though Anne averted her eyes.

"Who are you?" Leigh demanded.

"Annabelle Honoria Jacobs, agent of Mistress Nicole Argenti in the lair of her enemies."

"And who am I?"

"Mistress's Right Hand."

"Do you know my name?"

"No, Lady, I am not permitted that familiarity."

"You certainly aren't, Anne. But you've been familiar with me before, haven't you? Too familiar."

The slave blushed and hung her head. "Yes, Lady. I have humiliated myself and you."

"No. You lack the power to humiliate me - and you have a long way to go before I'll consider you properly humiliated."

Anne tumbled to the floor and crushed her face and breasts against the tiles. "I am yours to abuse, Lady."

"You certainly are." Leigh pressed a foot against Anne's head, turning her face to one side and squashing her lips into lovely twisted shapes. "I notice that you haven't begged me for forgiveness. That's good. You realize you have no right to beg me for anything, not even punishment."

"Y'sh, L'dy."

Leigh tucked her foot under Anne's chin and nudged her up into a crouch. "The problem is, I can punish you as much as I like tonight; but tomorrow I'll revert to doll-hood and you'll have to at least pretend to be the person you were. How will you deal with that, Anne? How will you keep from offending me again, when your teammates all know how you treat your Trixies?"

"Lady," she quavered, "perhaps I could only deal with the other Trixies and not you?"

"I see we haven't wiped all the idiocy from your mind." Leigh toed her roughly onto her back.

Being this aggressive didn't come naturally to a sub like Leigh, but she could manage quite well in a case like Anne's. "When you deal with one of us, Annie-girl, you deal with all of us. I've never touched you physically until tonight, but I can still feel your dirty hands around my neck. How dare you presume to collar me?"

"I'm sorry, Lady," whined Anne. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know!"

"Well, you certainly know now. And after you've had your turn as a fucktoy, you'll have plenty of time to decide how to make amends."

"Yes, Lady. Thank you, Lady."

"I'm giving your fellow slaves three hours to work you over." Leigh glanced at Henderson, who was already licking her lips. Even recycled, the guardian was twice the domme Leigh would ever be. "When they're done, I'll give you back your mind and let you have the rest of the evening to formulate a plan. You will present it to me precisely at 7:00am. If I'm not satisfied, you'll take sick leave and spend the day at Recycled Toys, displaying your shortcomings for Mistress herself."

Anne gulped. "I'll do my best, Lady. I'll get it right the first time."

"You'd better, you mindless little cunt."

Hearing the trigger word, Anne shrieked and thrust her pelvis at the ceiling. She was nothing but cunt now: all juicy, swollen petals and a yearning for release.

"Normally," said Leigh, "I'd say there's nothing nicer than a hot, slick cunt. I certainly enjoy mine."

The trigger word rang through the slave's head. "Unh, unhhhh, hhnnnnnn!" she moaned.

"But, Annie-girl, you've been trying to think with your cunt; and it's just not built for that. You see that now, don't you?"

"Hhhhhhhnnnnn!" Anne saw nothing; her eyes had rolled up to bulging whites.

"A cunt's meant for fucking, not for thinking."

The slave toppled to one side, frigging herself madly and thrusting her tongue in and out between her teeth.

Leigh tipped her chin toward the guardians. "Take her back to her office. She keeps all the best toys in there."