Learning Experience
mc; Mg; oral; alien
I sighed, glancing over the holo display one more time. I flicked a finger lightly over it, looking for my name. There. Welton, Cassandra. Room 118.
I turned from the display, looking a little sheepish at the boy behind me. It had taken me too long to find my name on the class rosters; schools taught us to be quick and efficient. I had to admit, though; I was more than a little nervous. It was the first day of the new school year, and the first since I'd taken the Company-mandated TRIAL exam at the end of last year.
You know, the TRIAL? Training, Regimen & Interest Assessment Logarithm? The one the Company uses to determine your career?
Everyone takes it at 11. You go into your specialized fields starting at 12, assuming you can do anything useful for the Company. If you can't, well, you're dumped into a menial field or shipped off through the 'web to some frontier colony.
I reached 118, found a desk. I plopped down heavily. I wondered, vaguely, what this class was for. I knew it was like the old Earth boarding schools from here out. Not that any of us were really close with our families.
I tugged a lock of ash blonde hair, realizing that I'd likely have it cut. Another Company regulation. I didn't mind. The Company had things it liked- order, efficiency, and everything in its place. It hated families, love, anything that fell outside the rules. We didn't have to like it. We're company property, born and raised. Like cattle.
I shrugged the thought off. Wasn't worth getting worked up about. It's how things work in the Corporate Worlds. And any further thoughts on the matter died as our instructor walked into the room. "Greetings, girls," she said. For the first time, I noticed the room was filled with girls. That was an ominous sign, but what she said next floored me.
"Your TRIALs showed an aptitude for sociability and physical endurance, but most other areas were lacking. Thus, you've been placed to be part of the next generation of TransGen's 'blue girls'."
Blue girls. Hostesses and escorts brought out for VIPs from the Company and visitors from other corps. For all intents and purposes, whores.
"Remember, girls," our instructor said, "You're company property."
She was right. We were company property. Blue girls weren't people, really. They were things. There was a jolt at the base of my skull, and I forced back a sob. Several of the girls couldn't. That jolt was the Company ID chip being altered. We were officially company property.
"Stand up, please."
We did.
"Follow me, girls." She headed for the doors, we followed. We followed as she walked us down the hall into a cargo lift.
Company property. Born and raised. Like cattle.
The thought echoed in my brain as the cargo lift descended deep into the school's depths. We were cattle now, for all intents and purposes. We were led into a locker room whose doors were flanked by Company security, and the instructor stopped us. "Girls, remove all clothing you're wearing. That includes underwear."
There were some protests, but the majority of us obeyed. I think the few who resisted probably hadn't realized that security was there for a reason. I pulled off my jumpsuit, panties, and training bra, listening to the cries of the girls who had resisted and were being forcibly stripped by security.
The deck was cold under my feet as I stood. When everyone was naked, we were led into the medical bay next door. "Girls, take a bed," our instructor called. "It's time to have your neural nets implanted." Again, I obeyed. What else could I do? Run? To where? I couldn't have gotten off-planet. The ID chip in my skull would've been logged on every door I passed through. Going into the Depths would've seen me turned into a whore simply to survive.
I laid back on the bed as the medtechs strapped me down.
"Not going to lie," the doctor told me, "This is going to hurt like hell."
How pleasant, knowing that.
He wasn't lying. The injection needle was jammed into my head right above my ID chip, and pain exploded behind my eyes as the nanites built themselves into the hardwire mesh that would be permanently integrated with my gray matter.
I screamed. I swore. I cried. I couldn't help it; the process hurt. I blacked out, came to, over and over. By the time the pain died down to something tolerable I was gasping and panting. My voice was gone, my throat raw.
I forced my eyes open, eyes that now felt shrink-wrapped, were shrink-wrapped by the displays for my 'net.
It was pink, a bright bubblegum pink.
I read against the dark grey of the medbay ceiling.
TranGen Neural Net 079 Active
NNOS 4.8906 Release Ver. loaded
The pain in my head died down as the OS started regulating my mind.
Integration at 98% active
ID Integration 100%
--Loading--
ID CW449065
Name: Welton, Cassandra
D.o.B.: 15.Sep.2264, TSR/19.Sixth.0150 Local
Age: 12
Designation: Hostess/BLUE
DesID: TG401
--Standing By--
I groaned as the restraints were removed. All my information, flashing before my eyes. We were rounded up by security and led into another room. It looked like a holding pen, more than anything. We were shoved in, naked.
"Okay, girls, it's your first day."
Our instructor was here too.
"It's time to start learning. In a moment, your neural nets will activate-"
My brain twitched as the display on my neural net triggered.
Congratulations! You've been selected for a special position within TransGen, GMbH. Welcome to your training program!
That was laughable.
You are designated as a BLUE class hostess. Do you understand what this means?
There was a lot of noise, muttered responses. "Yeah. I'm a company whore."
Correct. You are meant for social and sexual companionship. Do you understand why this is?
"Because I'm company property," I said dryly. "We're just cattle."
Partially correct.
Some girls were suddenly on the floor. So was I; Some pleasure, some pain.
Your designation ID does not indicate breeding use. Proper medication will be administrated; you will accept it or be sterilized. Understand/Comprehend?
"Yes," I croaked, forcing the word out of my seared throat. And after a moment, "Can I request a change of designation?"
Pain dropped me again from the position on all fours I'd managed.
Negative. Only designation ID can be changed.
"Understood."
Your purpose is to please any who you are assigned to. Repeat.
"My purpose is to please any I'm assigned to."
My voice was one of a choir, a choir of discordant, raspy female voices.
Repeat.
We did. Again, and again, and again.
I am a toy to be used. My purpose is to please.
"I am a toy to be used. My purpose is to please." The choir repeated, raspy, broken by the gasps and pants of girls being punished.
Behavioral analysis indicates subject Cassandra is highly submissive.
"I'm a whore if I stay, a whore if I run. If I stay, at least the company will care for me."
The response was as raspy as ever, barely above a whisper. I don't know why I even bothered replying that time.
There was a pause, before we repeated the two phrases again.
A toy to please. That's what I was meant to be for the Company.
All subjects initiate sleep cycle.
We collapsed where we were.
I don't know how long I slept. When I woke up, they'd plugged an IV into my neck.
Fluid line installed. Nanocyte upgrades in progress. Subject health is mandatory.
That was good to know.
Initiating rules module....
Rules for Hostess/BLUE:
1) Third person speech.
2) Inability to refuse service to assigned client.
3) Hostess/BLUE is not a human asset. Hostess/BLUE is company property and treated as such.
Confirm?
"Can I get a list of sub-designations?" I asked. Apparently I'd been out long enough for my throat to be much less sore.
Confirm?
I sighed. "Confirm." This was followed by a screech as my brain was forcibly adjusted.
Stand by for daily training.
"Wait," I gasped, "This girl wants a list of sub-designations."
Request logged. Requesting permission.
Permission granted.
Sub-designation list for Hostess designation.
01 - BLUE (VIP/Executive [human] Use)
02 - GREEN (VIP/Exec [non-human] Use)
03 - BLACK (Experimental Use - [DANGER] Subject Lifespan NOT guaranteed!)
04 - GREY (Breeding/Human)
05 - PURPLE (Breeding/Non-Human)
Current DesID for Welton, Cassandra is 401 (Hostess/BLUE).
I nodded to myself. "Girl requests review and sub-designation reassignment."
Request logged. Is girl human?
"Girl is a thing."
Correct.
"Girl is company property. Like cattle."
Correct.
"Girl is a toy meant to please. Girl cannot refuse her clients. Girl is a toy meant to please."
The words were mine. They felt right. Felt good. I knew part of that was the neural net, but part of it had always felt right. The company knew what was best.
"Girl...requests date?" I asked. The concept of time was fuzzy to me.
Date is 23.sixth.0162 local. Time is 14.08.
My second day of training. I wondered if my parents would be proud of me.
"Girl is a whore for the Company. She is Company property, to do with as the Company pleases," I whispered. My voice was one of many in the class.
We carried on, repeating such cachesims. I didn't check the time again; it wasn't important. All that was important right now was reinforcing a truth I'd already known.
"Whore," I said softly, "Fucktoy. Slut. Whore. Fucktoy. Slut."
Subject designation changed. Welton, Cassandra is now Cassie. Confirm.
"Girl is now Cassie. Confirmed." My voice was monotone in my ears, but the idea sent a thrill through me. I wasn't tied down by anything. Somewhere, the old me wailed in sorrow. I didn't care. The company could take anything.
Subject Sub-Designation change request has been accepted.
"Cassie wants..." I struggled to focus on the request. Property didn't decide things. This, I thought, will be the last one. "Cassie wants to work with aliens."
Stand by. Request accepted. Subject Cassie is now designated 402 (Hostess/GREEN).
Deep inside, the old Cassie wailed again. This wasn't how she had wanted to work with aliens. I didn't care. I'm only property, owned by the Company, right? If they think I'm best being a whore for aliens, then that's what I'm meant to be.
"Cassie is a whore for alien cocks!" I giggled.
Stand by. Security will remove you for specialized training shortly.
I could only giggled as I was unhooked.
Sleep.
I slept.
Initiating...DI seed implant accepted.
Cassie, wake.
I woke.
"Cassie is an alien whore."
Affirmative.
The voice in my head had taken on a different tone. It wasn't the monotone masculine tone I was used to; more feminine.
"You're new," I said. "Cassie doesn't know you."
I'm Lizzie. I'm here to help you be a company whore.
"Lizzie will help Cassie!" I giggled.
Don't move, please.
I obeyed Lizzie. I felt something cold slither inside me. I whispered my new truths as the cold slithered through me. My nipples poked hard against the air, my clit began to throb. My cunt swelled and I started to pant.
Cassie is Company property.
"Yes," I whispered.
Cassie is a whore.
"Yes."
Slut. Toy. Fuckdoll. Meat to be used.
"YES!" I shouted, body writhing. My eyes locked on a mirror set into the grey wall. My eyes were turquoise now; a bright, vivid turquoise replacing my old, dull hazel.
"Slut Cassie is a whore! Slut! Toy! Fuckdoll! Meat!"
Excellent. Cassie has always been a submissive, hasn't she?
I thought about that. Lizzie was right; I'd always been one to obey without grumbling. Perfect material for a hostess.
Modifications complete.
"Cassie is a slut for aliens!"
I would agree, Lizzie commented in my brain. I'm surprised they tried to stick you as a BLUE. Your fascination with non-human cultures should have set you as a GREEN.
"Company knows best," I countered.
Until proven wrong, yes. Lizzie fell silent as security escorted me to the proper class. I fell silent and knelt at an empty table. Standby. Cassie, are you ready to start training?
"Cassie wants it so bad!"
A solid-light hologram materialized over the table. The old me started rattling off the kind of alien, average, statistics. I tuned her out. My purpose was its cock. I gingerly stuck out my tongue. My brain- old and new alike- wondered where I'd learned that.
I guess Lizzie had a direct line into my thoughts, because she replied. Subconscious sleep training, she explained.
I licked at it, then began to suck. The old me cried, but it was more distant now. The new me followed learned muscle memory, massaging the canine-like cock with my lips and tongue, licking up and over it. My mind wished it were real.
My cunt pulsed at that thought. I needed to do this. Deep inside, the old me wailed one last time, and faded away.
Good girl, Lizzie told me.
