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Now on to the story...
Chapter 1. If you want it clean...
Chapter 3. Slavegirl Fiona is Delivered
Chapter 5: End ... or Beginning?
Melissa looked out of the girl cage at the throng surrounding the sound stage. This was her first time at this meet and mate; in fact it was her first time in this city. This band, she thought, was pretty good. They put some spirit into the current favorites.
She kept an ear cocked for anything behind her. The way she was dressed for the evening said she was trolling for a date; it wouldn’t do to ignore any young men that wanted to take her out of her cage and play.
A casual eye would have found her almost indistinguishable from over half of the young women who thronged these events. Her shoulder length brown hair tumbled over the top of her shirt. The open front showed a hint of breast; the bottom was neatly tucked into her shorts. The material wasn’t the best; it was what one would expect from a lower class woman who bought at the big markets. It was, however, what her owner provided her for her time off, and after a while she had figured out that whoever had set that policy was right.
“Ahem.” someone cleared his throat behind her. She turned. About 5’10”, sandy hair, rugged good looks that he’d either inherited or his parents had the money to buy.
“Looking for a date, big guy?” she asked.
“Of course,” he said, his eyes flicking to the hint of breast and then settling on the cameo on her control collar.
“I don’t think I’ve seen that cameo before,” he said.
“Probably not. It’s Campus Slavegirls’.”
“Your one of their girls?”
“Of course,” she smiled. “I’m on my time off and looking for some fun. If you’d like to lease me the office would be delighted, but tonight’s mine. Maybe ours?”
“You look like fun,” he said, bringing his head close to the bars. She came forward to kiss him. A minute later they broke apart. “Definitely,” he grinned, waving his ID card at the lock. The circular bars slid up and the verticals slid around letting their imprisoned girl out.
“I didn’t think they were recruiting yet,” he said after they had settled with a couple of drinks.
“Next week, I think.”
“So?”
“How am I here? I’m part of the startup inventory.”
“Startup inventory?” he said, clearly intrigued.
“I’m not a student. I flunked out of high school and moved in with my boyfriend. When he got tired of me Mother wouldn’t take me back. Too much pounding the street looking for work, Public Aid getting tired of supporting me, no boyfriend and no prospects. I turned 18 and said the heck with it. Found a factor and said: ‘I’m for sale. Buy me’.
“Campus Slavegirls bought me at the auction. We’ve got a fairly large inventory of slaves on standard contracts that we shift around to meet excess demand.”
Sean nodded, noting that she had identified herself with her owner. He hadn’t known all that many slaves, but the ones he did know usually didn’t.
“So they flew you in?”
“Flew? As if. They trucked us in.”
“Trucked?”
“In girl boxes. Three days.”
“Three days in a girl box?” He sounded shocked.
“You get life support. The second time they ship you they install the advanced life support. It’s a lot better than having a pipe stuck in your face.”
“How’s that work?”
“Haven’t a clue, guy. What I do know is there’s an attachment down here,” she gestured to her crotch, “that’s some kind of a nano-device. They put it on you, and then you sit in the box and it attaches to the life support unit though the floor. It lets them squirt food right into your stomach.
“The other part goes topside. It’s something that they stick in your throat and it goes down your neck to your stomach and lungs. It’s supposed to keep you from choking or having breathing problems.”
“Tube down your windpipe? How do you talk?”
She shrugged “They don’t let you talk anyway when you’re in a box. If I need to say something, there’s always Intercom.”
“How do you stay sane for three days?”
She giggled. “They put a reader on the front of the cage. We can use it without touching it. We’ve all got hobbies, and we can talk to each other using Intercom. If we want to: some do, some don’t. When you live in a cage in a kennel you learn how to not get bored when you’re stuck with nothing to do for your owner for a while.”
He shook his head. “What do they do with you?”
“I’m a level three lease,” she answered. At the look of incomprehension, she continued. “That means I’m trained to be the housekeeper for a family. They lease me to faculty and university staff. You’re probably looking for a level one or two unless you’re living at home.”
“Level what?”
She laughed. “A level one is a rental girlfriend, a level two is a Natasha. As in Tumbling Through Time. I like doing the Natasha thing, but my housekeeping skills are overkill for a student apartment. Besides, most college students want someone they can talk to in a rental girlfriend, and I’m not that someone. Unless you like to talk about bored housewife comedies.”
He shook his head. “There are other levels?”
“Level 4 is a formal maid with all the oh-so-polite manners. We lease a few to the top level faculty and administrators. Then we have a housekeeping service and a party staff service. I do both of those when I’m not out on lease.”
He looked at her again as her small hand rested against the crotch of his slacks and she snuggled up against him. Talk about fluff between the ears, he thought. Pumping her was fun, though.
“Why would a girl want to enslave herself to your owner?”
She giggled. “They don’t. That’s the point; we have our own one year contract. They’re slaves for the year and we lease them back to students; then it’s over except for the memories and the tattoo. And the Goodwife Ribbon, of course.”
“Huh?”
“Our contract,” she said, happy to have something to say that he didn’t know and might actually be interested in, “isn’t transferable. It doesn’t allow the Devotion, and it ends. Usually in a year, sometimes two. And we make sure they keep up with their classes.”
“Um,” he frowned in thought, almost unconsciously letting a hand stray onto a breast. He didn’t notice that she subtly shifted to get more hand onto the strategic area.
“Interesting,” he breathed when he came up for air. Then he noticed his companion. “Let’s do it.”
“I thought you’d never ask,” she answered as she gave an ear a final nibble.
They got up and headed toward one of the escalators to the mating cubicles on the second floor, an apparently carefree couple walking hand in hand.
“You get a date?” Derek asked his apartment mate as they headed back toward the campus.
“Um. Yes.”
“So?”
“Great lay. But...”
“But what, man?”
“Total fluff between the ears. Never knew what that meant before. Like, total.”
“How’s a coed get that bad?”
“Oh, she wasn’t a coed. She was one of Campus Slavegirls’ inventory. Said she specialized in housekeeping.”
“Specialized in housekeeping. And a good lay. Interesting...”
“Fiona would go up the wall if you leased her.”
“Nah, she just needs managing.”
“Yeah. You managed her into moving out,” Sean jibbed.
“Now what idiot idea have you got in your head,” Fiona said to her boyfriend.
“You know how you moved out because of the mess, right?”
“You’ve started cleaning? Did the sun rise in the west today?”
“Uh, no. But I’ve got an idea.”
“You’ve got an idea. That’ll be a first. So, out with it.”
“You lease a housekeeper from Campus Slavegirls.”
“If you... Just a sec. You said I lease the housekeeper?”
“Uh, yes. When we get married you’ll want one anyway.”
“Now that,” the redhead said, “actually sounds halfway reasonable. The other half though. How do I trust you to keep your dick out of her shorts?”
“She’s going to be wearing a slave tunic?”
Fiona suppressed a giggle. “Try again.”
“You’re the owner.”
“Better. Still.” She looked at him narrowly. “I know you. If it’s got a hole, you’ll try to screw it. At least I can keep track of her. You got a candidate?”
“Her name’s Melissa.”
“And how did you meet her?”
“I didn’t. Sean did at a meet and mate. Said she said it was her night off.”
“And I’ll bet he said she was a good lay.”
“Of course.”
“It’s still an idea,” Fiona told her boyfriend. “Now to do some research and hit up Mama for some money. This had better work, or you’ll be looking for a new girlfriend.”
“It looks like they’ve got their auction up,” Fiona said as she frowned at her reader.
“Auction?” her roommate, Alice, asked.
“Campus Slavegirls. That idiot boyfriend of mine suggested I lease a housekeeper if I didn’t like the way their apartment looked and I didn’t want to clean it myself. He’s got a point. I just wonder if it’s enough work for one.”
“Planning on moving back?”
“If it’s clean, heck yes. I want him where I can see him.”
“Grrr.” Fiona said to the wall as she disconnected the call.
“Oh?” Alice asked.
“I hate it when Mama is logical. Mothers aren’t supposed to be logical.”
Alice laughed. “Logical or not, mama is mama, and she’s got the purse strings.”
“Too true.”
“So what did she say that’s got you in a snit?”
“Oh, it’s not a snit. She just said we don’t have enough work for a housekeeper, and we won’t be able to afford one for a few years after we get married in any case.”
“Which means?”
“I learn to clean house and like it.” Fiona almost snarled.
“And you said?”
“That’s slave work.”
“And she said?”
“She laughed. ‘It’s slave work if you can afford a slave, honey. Otherwise it’s woman’s work’.”
“So you snarled at her, right?”
“Uh, yes.”
“And what did she say?”
“If I really thought it was slave work, get myself trained properly. She’ll pay for that.”
“Ouch!”
“Well, she’s got a point. I just wish it didn’t feel like her spike heel up my backside.”
“She does?”
“If I want it clean, I clean it. And if I really think it’s slave work, then I get slave training to do it.”
“She had a suggestion?”
“She said Robot Housekeeper. From what she’s heard, it works well, and you don’t notice the time going by.”
“That’s got to be a plus.”
“Really.”
“They’ve got to be kidding!” Fiona said.
“About what?”
“Well, I decided to see what Campus Slavegirls had in the way of training. It comes out to three weeks. Full time. In their kennel.”
“They probably mean it. I’ve always heard it takes two weeks to train a slave.”
“Robot Housekeeper is the third. I checked with a couple of other kennels, and they don’t do it in house. Campus Slavegirls does for some reason. It’s cheaper with them, too.”
“How can you justify three weeks?”
“I’m not sure. They make this weird statement that I can keep going to class while I’m doing it. I have to be in the kennel at all other times.”
“That is weird. Tell me if you figure it out.”
“It’s making a horrible kind of sense,” Fiona said the next day.
“Oh. Tell me about it.”
“I missed the context. It’s ‘So you want to play Natasha to your George’. They were recommending Basic Robot first, and had said that Robot Housekeeper was overkill. Now it makes sense.”
“Oh, how?”
“If you’re going to spend that much time in the kennel you’ll have class problems. So they’ve figured out a way. It fits with their other program, where they actually sign you up for a limited slave contract. They guarantee you study and class time on that one, too.”
“So are you going to do it?”
“You know, I don’t know. I’m going to have to sleep on it and then look at it again. There’s some weird stuff going on there. And on top of it, they say it’s an experimental package that they’re testing out on several campuses before offering it nationwide.”
“You’re looking awfully thoughtful tonight,” Alice said to her redheaded roommate.
“I’m being indecisive, can’t you tell?” Fiona answered.
“You. Indecisive?”
“Yes. Me. Indecisive. I’m not sure I want to take the last step.”
“What last step?”
“Having myself packaged and delivered.”
“Where did that come from?”
“It’s the focus: how to be your boyfriend’s slavegirl without having to have a slave contract. It’s a cute scene; you can set it up to be delivered with a card. He can use the card to accept you or reject you; if he accepts it’ll shift your authorizations in your control collar so you actually become his slavegirl for however long you’ve set. There are early automatic bailouts, and you can still bail out whenever you want.”
“How does it work?”
“Are you sure you want the detail?”
“Um. Yes.”
“It works with the Slavegirl module. It’s got some kind of controlling module that intercepts any commands to change the environment that either he or I issue, and decides whether to let them through. That makes it so I can’t change what I’m allowed to do unless I issue an override. And that’s supposed to trigger a ‘do I want to continue doing this’ reevaluation. There’s a bunch of other stuff in there as well to manage the whole relationship.”
“I see I’ve got some studying to do,” Alice laughed. “That explanation almost made sense.”
“I can’t quite figure it out, either. He’s got a birthday coming up in about six weeks.” She paused. “I seem to have decided. I’m going to tell him I’m not going to lease a housekeeper, but I might have something on his birthday. Will you hold my space open here? I’m not sure whether I’ll be coming back here or staying with him.”
“Sure,” Alice told her soon to be ex-roommate.
Fiona stopped and looked at the door. The sign above it still read Campus Slavegirls. Just like the last time she was here. She hitched her purse on her shoulder and walked into the lobby. It wasn’t a huge lobby, but it was big enough to have a desk at the end with a pretty slavegirl sitting behind it. Her blond hair tumbled artlessly over her shoulders; the left one bare and the right one covered with the single sleeveless shoulder of her slave tunic. The red ribbon of the control collar decorated her neck, punctuated by the oval of Campus Slavegirls’ cameo.
Fiona handed the receptionist her ID card. She slid it over the reader set in the desk and handed it back. “Sandra is expecting you. Third door down the right hand corridor.” She never took her eyes off of the visitor to look at any kind of display.
Kind of creepy, Fiona thought as she walked down the corridor, her footsteps showing a confidence that she was very far from feeling.
Sandra turned out to be a tall brunette, also wearing Campus Slavegirls’ slave livery in their registered pattern.
“Fiona,” she said warmly, “That’s a pretty name to go with a beautiful redhead. I hope your boyfriend knows how lucky he is.”
Fiona laughed. “He’d better if he expects me to stick around after this is all over.”
“A woman who knows her own mind. I like that. Let’s go over the manifest so we don’t have any last minute mistakes.”
A few minutes later they walked farther down the corridor to a room that contained the familiar sight of a contract machine.
“Kennel Training Contract for Fiona Lackland,” Sandra started out a bit formally.
“Let’s get the hardware out of the way first,” she said in a more conversational tone. “First the control collar.” She ran a tape around Fiona’s neck and then took the red ribbon of a control collar out of a box and wrapped it around, pressing the ends together in back. It quivered a moment and then then settled snugly.
“Now the muffler and earplugs,” she said as she took an oddly shaped piece of what looked like plastic out of a drawer and removed it from the sterile wrapping. “Open wide.” She held the device against the top of Fiona’s mouth for a full minute. Then she took a pair of earplugs out of another packet and slid them into the redhead’s ears.
“Now you need to put the cuffs on.” She held out a pair of what looked like four inch long, white wrist protectors. Fiona slid them over her wrists and felt them snug into place.
“The next step is to do the contract. You know the procedure.”
Fiona nodded and walked over to the contract machine. She put her ID card on the plate and the brain scanner on her head. Then she put her hands, palms down, on the scan plate. The screen cleared, showing several messages.
Fiona Lackland identified.
New Control Collar Initialized.
Kennel contract between Fiona Lackland and Campus Slavegirls, INC. Is this the contract you wish to enter?
--> She signaled yes.
--> More questions rolled down the screen. She answered them.
Kennel Contract Accepted.
Kennel Module Installed.
Devotion Neutralizer Installed.
Kennel contract active.
Done.
“Hands behind you, pet,” Sandra told her. Fiona put her hands behind her, wrists crossed, and felt the cuffs lock them into place.
“Now we’re going to box you for transport to the kennel,” Sandra said. She slid an approximately three foot rectangle out of a holder and set it on the floor. A moment later she’d flipped the sides up to where they locked in place, leaving the front and the top open.
“Fiona. Muffler. Silence.” she said. “Step in and sit on your heels so your hands touch the back. Good.” She made sure the cuffs had locked to the bars in back, and then flipped the front up and the top over, locking the boxed girl in place.
Sandra took a powered handcart and slid the tongs under the box, pulling it back so she could move it down the corridor to the end. She dropped the boxed girl and took the handcart back.
Fiona looked at Sandra’s back as she walked down the corridor, and wondered if she had just made the worst mistake of her young life. Well, she reflected, there was no going back. Unlike limited slave contracts, kennel contracts did not include the ability to bail out. What she had specified was going to happen.
She didn’t have all that long to wait. About ten minutes later another of Campus Slavegirls’ slaves came up with another handcart and took her to a loading dock in the back of the building, where she was neatly deposited in a row of three other boxed girls.
The next wait was longer. She watched the shadow crawl across the loading dock. Every once in a while the same slavegirl came out and added another boxed girl to the line. Finally a small truck pulled up and a loading dockworker slid the boxed girls into it.
The truck ride seemed to be interminable, but that was mostly because the inside of the cargo section was as black as pitch; all she could hear was the breathing of the girls on each side of her. She could tell when it started and stopped, but that didn’t help all that much; the computers that ran traffic pretty much insured that the ride was silky smooth, and she had no way of knowing which streets it routed them down. Even if she’d known the most likely routes between the offices and the kennel building.
Eventually it arrived and she found herself blinking in the bright light of the loading dock.
Workers came to slide the boxes onto handcarts and trundled them into the building. Her turn came, and she found herself carted down a corridor that had small doors down the sides. The worker turned the cart so that the front of her box was against number 8. The door and the front of her box slid up as she felt her cuffs release.
She hesitated, and then crawled out of the box through the door, finding herself in a brightly lit room lined with slave cages and facing a brunette dressed in Campus Slavegirls’ livery.
“You’re Fiona, right?” she said, not waiting for an answer. “Your cage is over here. You’re in room 8, cage D4. That’s the top row on the right the way I’m facing. Your left. If you can’t manage it, use the stool.”
Fiona looked around and decided that the stool was a good idea; the bottom of the top row was a good four feet off the ground. She managed to crawl in and reverse herself so she faced the front.
“The cage door,” her guide told her, “doesn’t lock. It’s got a bolt that operates from both sides.” She demonstrated. “Keep it bolted shut unless you’re getting in or out. The bolt secures it so it doesn’t swing out into the corridor. It lets you mount a reader and keeps you from falling out if you tend to toss and turn while you’re sleeping. It’s also handy if you want to grab something, shake it and scream.” She giggled.
“Seriously. The occasional scream has a real therapeutic effect as long as you don’t do it too frequently.
“All kennels are laid out pretty much the same, in modules. A module has four cage rooms on one side of the corridor, and a meal room, latrine, shower and combined devotion recital and exercise room on the other. You can get directly to the shower from the latrine and the exercise room without going through the corridor.
“The shower has got pigeonholes on the wall for personal stuff, make sure you get the stuff in your pigeonhole, not someone else’s. If you need to hit the facilities, just go and come back.
“There are shelves in the back of your cage with blankets, a reader, a mount and grooming tools. The reader has your schedule, both university courses and courses here. There are six scheduled activities a day you’ll do with the rest of the girls in this room if you’re here: morning washup, Devotion ritual and breakfast, two meals and two exercise sessions, and the evening washup and Devotion ritual.
“Someone will come and get you so you can leave for classes, and they’ll bring you back here when you’re done.
“Everything else you need to know is on the reader. Oh. One more thing. There’s an invisible fence on the corridor; you can only go where you’re supposed to. It’s marked with a real obvious red stripe.”
She turned and left.
Fiona looked out the front of the cage. She found she could see the girl across from her, and part of the girls in the cages on either side. She could see girl’s legs in the bottom cages, but not their heads. It didn’t, she thought, look like the room was intended for talking, even if her muffler hadn’t been set to prevent it.
She stretched back and found the reader. It was the large size that everyone used except when they needed to have something that would fit in a purse. She looked at the front. It said: Fiona Lackland. It had the note: Kennel Training Contract.
Underneath there were entries for Rules, Schedule, Coursework, Enhancements, Library and Net. She nodded and decided to look at Schedule.
It was a pretty standard single day display; blocks of time stacked vertically and a pointer on the side that told the current time. It looked like she had about ten minutes to the next meal, and her stomach reminded her that it would be quite welcome.
She backed out and decided to look at Enhancements. It said she was scheduled for three gene mods and three surgeries. What? She looked further.
The three gene mods, on further inspection, seemed to be quite useful. One was to her back to help support her C cup breasts. Not that she got backaches regularly; she’d never quite decided whether she was lucky or unlucky her breasts weren’t larger.
Another was to expand her comfort zone; she should be able to be comfortable completely nude all the way to just above a wind chill of freezing. The last was to reconfigure her feet so she could walk all day in four positions, ranging from flat through full extension. They definitely seemed to be going in for the eye candy factor. Not that she minded in the least!
The surgeries were something called nose ring piercing, breast countermotion generators and advanced life support attachment. Nose ring. The attachment was fine; it was a grommet through her septum. A ring itself? No way. She’d heard of the countermotion generators but she’d never run across anyone who had them. Advanced life support? She had to admit she didn’t have a clue.
Just then the cage doors popped open and the girls started dropping or crawling out.
The meal had been filling, and a chance to chat with the other girls in the room had been quite welcome. She’d barely gotten settled when another of the neatly liveried minions walked up.
“Time for Reader practice,” she said as she slid the bolt on Fiona’s cage. “Out and follow me.”
“I’m Dot,” the liveried girl told Fiona once she got her settled. “I’m one of your two trainers; I’m going to handle most of the training; the other trainer will do Basic Collar Obedience.
“For this session I’m going to get you started on how you issue commands to your collar, and also show you how to use the Reader module. These pieces are first because you’ll be really uncomfortable having to have your reader in your lap. It works much better mounted on the cage door, but then you can’t control it with your fingers on the back. Right?”
“Makes sense,” Fiona answered.
“There are two ways of entering commands. The first is to subvocalize them. Subvocalization will work even if your muffler is set to suppress speech. It can’t be turned off.
“The other is to pretend you’ve got a reader and just let your fingers do their thing. Subvocalizing is usually easier if all you’re doing is a few command words; using your fingers is easier for most other work.
“The first command is: ‘Reader. Link.’ Remember to use your name first and make them separate words.
“Good. The next one is: ‘Reader. Practice. Ghost’.” That’ll get you the fingering practice screens. You’re going to need them.”
“How’s that work?”
“It uses the physiology monitor in your collar to transmit the fingerings to the reader. Just imagine that you’ve got it in your hands and play with it. It’ll come fairly quickly.”
She watched her student for a couple of minutes. “Pretty good start. Now you’re going to do it with your hands behind you. Put these cuffs on and cross your hands behind.”
“Uh, why?”
“Think, girl! You want to fiddle with it where you put it? You’re going to have your hands by your sides or in your lap while you’re caged, and they’re going to be cuffed behind you while you’re boxed. If you’re boxed for more than an hour or so, you’re supposed to have a reader you can use mounted on the front of the box.
Fiona practiced a few more minutes.
“Now the next command is: ‘Cuffs. Unlock.’.”
“I can unlock the cuffs?” Fiona said, startled.
“Sometimes,” Dot answered. “You need that so you can practice in your cage.
“Now let’s cover your coursework. You got the list from your reader, right?”
“Uh, no. I didn’t have time to check it.”
Dot shook her head. “Wish I’d have known, I’d have had you look at it while you were doing reader practice. You’re scheduled for Basic Collar Obedience, Go To It, Basic Intercom, Meaning of the Devotion, Basic Robot, Robot Housekeeper and as much of the Owner’s course as you can absorb in the month you’ll be here. That’s in addition to your university courses, which are also on your schedule. You’ll also learn Exerciser, but that’s self-installing; you can take the course that explains how to set exercise goals and monitor progress on the net if you’re interested in knowing more about it.
“Your other teacher will do Basic Collar Obedience, which includes the Go To It module. I’ll get you up to speed on the parts of the command system you need to know to get anything done, Reader and Basic Intercom. Most of Meaning of the Devotion is self-study, as is the Owner’s course. I’ll be available to answer questions. That means we’ll have another few daily sessions, and then you’ll see me only when you need personal tutoring.
“The first part of the Owner’s course you’re going to do is Meaning of the Devotion. You’re to memorize five stanzas a day, and take the online course in exactly what they mean and how each of them fits into the life of a slave. You’re expected to get an almost perfect score on the quizzes and to be able to recite the Devotion with your cagemates in the morning and evening sessions. Once you’ve got that there will be an oral exam to make sure you can talk about each of them coherently.
“One thing to remember is that you will be doing the Devotion recitation twice a day; you’ll be prompted with a voice in your right ear. Just echo the prompts. It won’t prompt you for pieces you’ve memorized.”
“OK. Makes sense.”
“Well, that’s it for today. Scamper back to your cage and start studying.”
“Time for another procedure,” the cheerful voice said from outside of Fiona’s cage. She started; the block of time had appeared on her schedule a few days before, but it hadn’t said what it was.
“Put on your cuffs and follow me,” it continued. She quickly removed the reader and its mount from the cage door and slid the cuffs on her wrists. Then she dropped out of the cage, bouncing a bit as her legs took up the close to four foot drop to the walkway. She brought her hands behind her and felt the cuffs lock.
The woman who had addressed her turned without another word and headed down the corridor. Fiona followed her, responding more to the invisible promptings of her control collar than to the instruction to follow.
They went through another section she’d never been in before, and finally arrived in what looked like a medical office.
“Fiona, right?” the woman who appeared to be in charge said, not expecting an answer. “Let’s get you into the scanner so we can plan the operation.”
Operation? Fiona thought to herself. Well, it did say three medical procedures, and this didn’t look like installing a grommet for a nose ring.
Five minutes later she was out of the scanner. She could almost imagine the sound of the bio-medical computers happily crunching away on their new load of data.
“Fiona. Muffler. Off.” the nurse said. “You’ve probably figured out that we’re going to install your new breast countermotion generators, right?”
“I guessed,” she answered. “I couldn’t be certain because I don’t know what the life support enhancement is all about.”
“We’ll get to that next week,” the nurse promised. “Right now I’m going to tell you what they’re about and what they’ll feel like when they’re installed.
“As you undoubtedly know, breasts are mostly fat and connective tissue. The actual milk glands are pretty much the same size regardless of the actual size of the breasts. Men like big breasts, but the bigger they are the harder they are on the female body. One of the gene mods that has been installed is to strengthen your back so that yours don’t cause backaches. Not that your C breasts are really prone to do that like a D or DD, but it’s a cheap and easy mod that will make you a bit more useful.
“The countermotion generators add a network of bio-mechanical muscle, sensors and nano-computers that automatically compensate for motion. Once they’re working properly, your breasts won’t flop around. It doesn’t matter how suddenly or vigorously you move, they’ll stay where they’re supposed to. All they’ll do is quiver a bit because there’s always a fraction of a second reaction time, and of course fat will quiver.
“You’ll notice a slight feeling of pressure as they adjust. It’ll most likely drop out of your awareness in a day or so. When you’re lactating you may notice a tendency for the milk to slosh a bit in the ducts; that’s perfectly normal.
“Now a question. Would you prefer to watch the surgery, or would you prefer to be out?”
“Not this one, ma’am,” Fiona replied. “I’ve watched a few, and some have been interesting, but this one is a bit too, um, personal.”
“I quite agree; most of our patients want to be out for it.”
When Fiona came to, the first thing she noticed was pressure. She looked down, and sure enough her breasts were bandaged like a mummy.
“Oh. You’re back with us. Just lie there; when you’re ready the computer will get you back to your cage.”
A week later, Fiona found herself back in the surgery.
“Now for the big one,” the nurse said. “Pop into the scanner and we’ll let the computers plan it out.”
“I assume this is the advanced life support?” Fiona asked when the scanner had finished.
“Right. This will let you stay in a girl box for days at a time without having that silly tube stuck in your face.”
“What are they going to do?”
“Rip you a new one,” the nurse said, and then giggled at Fiona’s expression. “Well, they’re not going to rip it, they’re going to go in very carefully; that’s why we need the scan. When they’re done you’ll have a new fitting down below for the life support. It’s going to have four tubes; one short one to your bladder, one longer one to your stomach and two to your lungs.”
“Two?”
“The air column is too long for one. That’s actually a minor problem for your natural arrangements; you start each breath with several cubic inches of air you’ve just exhaled but that hasn’t gotten far enough to escape.
“Speaking of escape,” she added, “do you want to watch this one, or would you rather be out?”
“Four tubes?”
“Oh, they won’t be waving around like an octopus. In fact, there’s not all that much to see. They just wheel the machine up. Ten minutes later it’s all done and you’ve got a nice little new socket.”
It was, Fiona thought, an anti-climax. They’d put her on a table and strapped her arms and torso down. Then they brought her legs up like a trussed chicken and rolled a machine up to her exposed bottom.
She felt a bit of coolness as they applied the local anesthetic, and then felt the pressure as the tubes squirmed up her insides. Ten minutes later, almost to the minute, it was over. One of the medical technicians held up a mirror so she could see the silver button that covered the port they’d drilled.
She got about an hour recovery time before the passionless computer that ran the kennel took her off the table and had her walk back to her cage.
“This is a twofer,” the pretty brunette wearing Campus Slavegirl’s livery told the redhead. “We need to check that the life support surgery worked properly, and you also need to experience what being in a box for more than a couple of hours is like. This,” she held up a curved piece of plastic with a number of attachments, “is the crotch piece. It’s actually a fairly sophisticated nano-machine that mates your natural plumbing with the life support. It’s also a sex toy; if you’re in a box for more than a day we usually program it for some stimulation. You can put it on yourself if you want.”
The brunette released Fiona’s cuffs so she could take the device and look at it. She turned it over in her hands and then spread her legs a bit and tried to apply the device. It slid in smoothly, the prongs that invaded her anus and vagina needing no lubrication. It settled with a small snap; Fiona suspected that was for the additional connection she’d had installed below.
“Cuffs behind you, sweetie,” the brunette said. “This piece goes in your mouth and throat. Open up.”
Fiona opened her mouth; the teacher inserted a dental block so she couldn’t close it.
“Looks a bit like a tentacle monster, right? One tube goes down your esophagus, the other goes down your windpipe. It’s to keep them properly separated; you want saliva and mucus to go into your stomach, not into your lungs, and if you do have digestive problems you want anything that comes up to go out your mouth, not into your nose and lungs.”
It did look like a tentacle monster, Fiona thought. The brunette inserted the two tubes into her mouth. She felt them wiggle a bit as they headed toward her throat and then slid down her neck. Once it seated itself it felt a good deal better.
“You’re breathing fine, so now we need to check the connection to your stomach. Let me take the block out. Now try to swallow. Good. This whole thing looks ugly, but it’s a great piece of engineering.
“Now for the box. Sit like you would normally and move your butt a bit until the attachment takes. Got it. Now let’s check.” She looked at a reader for a moment as Fiona felt something squirt into her stomach, and also felt her lungs work without any air coming through her nose.
“Great! Everything’s totally green. Their usual excellent job. Now the next trick is that you’re going to be in here for a while; this is why we schedule it when you don’t have classes over the weekend. Doctrine is that there is always a reader in front of your face. This,” she picked up a flat piece of fabric, “is the box cover.” She shook it out so the sides dropped down and then slid it over the cage. She touched a couple of spots, and it tightened, leaving the air vents on the bottom three inches of the life support unit exposed.
Fiona felt her eyes try to bug out as the cover descended, plunging her into Stygian blackness. She took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself, and then tried the command to turn the reader on. She relaxed as the light from the reader bloomed in front of her.
Then she tried to find a music channel, and relaxed further as the Intercom module located one of her favorites and put it on her earplugs.
Outside, the technician nodded as she monitored her progress. She’d been ready to give her instructions if she hadn’t figured it out herself, but she had. This one, she thought, was going to please whoever she was consigned to.
There was one more item they would have to check in about a half hour. Otherwise the computers were perfectly adequate to monitor against panic.
She took a handcart from the wall, slid the prongs under the girl box, and moved it to a row of identically wrapped boxes.
Fiona put the reader and its mount neatly away in the back of the slave cage and dropped onto the floor. It occurred to her to wonder exactly where she was going. She shrugged slightly as she followed the promptings of the kennel computer to the room she’d been in a few days before.
The helpful technician installed the two fittings and put her into the girl box. This time she put a package on each side before sliding the cover over the box and dropping the redhead into utter darkness.
Fiona felt her box tilt, throwing her back against her pinioned arms as someone rolled it for a ways until she felt it stop. She frowned. Something was going on, and she wasn’t quite sure what. She ought to know.
She shrugged as much as it was possible with both her arms and her ass solidly anchored in place, and turned the reader on. She had material to study for her next classes; presumably she would find out what was going on when she arrived wherever it was.
Whatever was going on was very strange. She felt herself moved from one place to another, stop, and move again. She heard voices outside, but they were not only muffled, they didn’t sound quite right. She couldn’t understand anything they said. It sounded like they’d set her earplugs to garble. She checked, and sure enough that’s what they’d done.
It got late, so she finally went to sleep. She was still in the box when she woke up.
It was late that afternoon that her box stopped again, and she heard several voices that sounded somewhat familiar. Suddenly the covering came off, and she saw where she was. At the same time, she remembered what she had been hypnotized to forget.
“Delivery for Mr. Banister,” the man on the other side of the apartment door said.
“We’re expecting something?” Sean asked Derek.
Derek frowned. “Oh, right. Fiona said she’d have something for me on my birthday. This might be it.”
“That’s huge,” Elspeth commented as the delivery man wheeled the covered box into the room.
“Sure is,” Sean told his girlfriend as he looked at it thoughtfully. The box was about four feet high and two and a half by three wide and deep. The wrapping didn’t quite go to the bottom, which seemed to have air vents.
“It’s from Fiona, but what is it?” Derek asked.
“Well, take the cover off and look.” Sean told his roommate, not mentioning that he thought he knew.
Derek touched the release points and the cover expanded to where it could be taken off.
“It’s Fiona!” he exclaimed.
“In a girl box,” Sean agreed. “So what’s the card say?”
“To my Darling Derek,” he read. “The rest is a data card.”
“Well, look at it.”
“Shouldn’t we get her out?” Elspeth asked.
“Not immediately,” Sean told her. “That’s a life support unit under it.”
“Um?”
“We could leave her there for a week and she’d be OK.”
“Probably be pissed as hell, though.”
“True. She’d be OK, we wouldn’t.” Sean shrugged. “Look at the data card man! If she’s got a life support unit, she’s not expecting to be sprung this second, and anyway the key is probably in it.”
Derek slid it into the slot on his reader.
To My Darling Derek on your birthday. May I present Slavegirl Fiona for you to use for the next three months. You may turn down the present; if you do please return the package unopened to Campus Slavegirls.
Slavegirl Fiona comes equipped with the following as standard: Basic Collar Obedience, Exerciser, Go To It, and Reader. She has the following factory installed options: Basic Robot, Intercom, Robot Housekeeper and Slavegirl. She also has the following modifications: Advanced Life Support Attachment, Breast Countermotion Generators, Environmental Enhancement, Foot and Ankle Enhancement, Nose Ring Attachment.
Slavegirl Fiona comes with a remote which has a dozen of the most popular Basic Robot routines from Tumbling Through Time preinstalled.
Slavegirl Fiona is set for a moderate amount of formal politeness. You can change this to informal; changing it to a high level of formal politeness will require additional training.
You need to look at the Rules before accepting her. The box will not open until you do. If you decide not to accept her, put the cover back on and call Campus Slavegirls to pick her up.
Your loving girlfriend, Fiona.
P.S. Slavegirl Fiona expects that cleaning the apartment will be one of her duties. If you decide not to accept her, you either need to find a way of cleaning it and keeping it clean, or you need to find a replacement for Girlfriend Fiona.”
“I think that’s pretty clear,” Elspeth said. “If you don’t want her, I do!”
“Well, let’s look at the rules,” Sean told his roommate.
Slavegirl Fiona has a special agreement with Campus Slavegirls; they have assigned her use to you. This means there are certain things you cannot do with her. She can tell you what they are if you ask her. It also means that her use is not transferable. She is yours if you choose to accept her; if you attempt to transfer her use to someone else, the agreement ends.
-->“Darn it!” Elspeth said.
Slavegirl Fiona comes equipped with the Slavegirl module. This will make her want to be of use to you, just like any slave wants to be of use to her owner. She needs to know that what she is doing for you is important. This means you will need to acknowledge it on a regular basis; treating Slavegirl Fiona as part of the furniture will result in early termination of the agreement.
Slavegirl Fiona expects to be put to use as a housekeeper and cook. She expects to serve all of the residents of the apartment this way. Other residents may use her for other things, but she does not have the same desire to be of use to them that she does to you, dear Derek.
Slavegirl Fiona is not to wear slave livery outside of the apartment. It is your decision as to whether she will wear livery inside.
Slavegirl Fiona must not be assigned duties that conflict with her ability to attend classes and keep up with class assignments to her normal standard of excellence.
Slavegirl Fiona will either sleep in your bed or in a slave cage, at your option. If the latter, the cage must be either in your room or in an unobtrusive location. She has one in mind, ask.
Slavegirl Fiona expects that you will set up a housekeeping account so she can buy food and other necessary housekeeping supplies.
Slavegirl Fiona expects a half day off a week, and a small spending account.
“I can live with that,” Elspeth said.
“The question is, can Derek?” Sean replied as his friend studied the reader he held in his hand.
“I think she’s a keeper,” Derek said as he went forward to the unpacking instructions.
“The kennel contract with Campus Slavegirls is still active. To accept her, you must approve the escrow account.” It gave instructions. Derek frowned at it a moment and then managed to follow the pointers. A minute later he pushed “Accept.”
The front and top of the girl cage opened. Fiona stood up as another set of instructions appeared on the page.
“The throat unit must be removed by hand. Have Slavegirl Fiona open her mouth. Reach in, put a finger through the ring and pull slowly.”
Derek looked at it and shrugged. “Open your mouth, dear.”
Nothing happened. “Huh?”
“She probably can’t understand you,” Sean said.
“Oh. Right. Fiona. Fiona. Language. On. Open your mouth so I can take the throat unit out.”
This time she opened her mouth. He looked inside and then poked a finger in. A moment later he pulled out a floppy piece of plastic with two tubes.
“Now what?” he mused. “Oh. Fiona. Cuffs. Unlock.”
The naked redhead stepped forward and threw her arms around Derek, pulling him down into a big kiss.
“Let’s get the other piece of packing off,” she said after they released each other. She spread her legs a bit and tugged at the crotch piece. It came off with a slight pop.
“Do you want me to dress?” she asked when they released each other.
“Um. Did you bring a tunic?” he asked.
“Of course,” she said as she took one of the packages on the side of the box.
“Hold it there a second, Fi,” Elspeth ordered. Fiona froze, bent over.
“I wondered about that,” Elspeth said as she ran her fingers between the redhead’s ass cheeks. “Is that the life support connection?”
“Yes,” Fiona laughed as she straightened up with the package. “It runs directly into my stomach and also into my lungs. It kind of tickles when it’s feeding me. It only uses the lung connection when my box is covered for delivery.”
She slid into a thong and tunic while she was talking, and put on a pair of heeled sandals. “Slavegirl Fiona reporting for duty, master,” she curtsied neatly in Derek’s direction.
Elspeth clapped. “That sounds like you mean it,” she said.
“Oh, I do,” Fiona answered her.
Elspeth looked at her strangely. “You sound more like one of my family’s slaves.”
“As long as master is using me for something he really finds useful, I’m his slavegirl. The Slavegirl module guarantees it. Until the timer runs out in three months.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Ask me again in three months. If I’d thought I’d find it abhorrent, I wouldn’t have done it.”
“But why?”
“I really like Derek. The pigsty was getting in the way, and I’ve got a thing that cleaning that kind of a mess is slave work.” She shrugged. “It was easier to convince myself to be his slavegirl for a few months than convince myself that I wanted to clean the apartment. I figured three months might change my attitude. If not I can try to hit Mama up for a housekeeper again.”
“That,” Sean said, “sounds just like Fiona.”
“So why aren’t you doing it now?”
“Master has guests. Once the party’s over and master doesn’t have anything else for me to do, this apartment is getting cleaned.”
Elspeth laughed. “Then I’d better leave to let you get on with it. Think it’ll be clean enough for me to move in with Sean tomorrow?”
“Might be a day or two longer,” Fiona answered. “There’s a lot that needs cleaning, and I don’t think we’ve got all the supplies.”
“Good point. By the way, that’s a pretty tunic pattern. It’s not one of the standard ones?”
“It’s my extended family’s. We have enough slaves that we decided to register one. We buy in bulk every few years; Mama sent me a couple of sets from inventory.”
Fiona woke up, as she usually did, while Derek was still sleeping. She looked across at him and frowned slightly. Something had changed. She listened. No difference in the apartment sounds. She did a quick status check via her control collar, and almost giggled. How could she have forgotten?
Today was The Day when her self-imposed role as Slavegirl Fiona ended. The Slavegirl module had quietly shifted mode in the night. Now it would gently prompt her to consider what it was she wanted to do when Derek asked her for something.
She looked across at Derek, who was still sleeping soundly and nodded thoughtfully. They’d both changed in the last three months. He’d learned to show appreciation for what she did, and she’d learned a great deal about what kept him happy. As well as housekeeping and cooking. And the fact that there were simply things you had to do, so you did them as efficiently as possible to leave time for the things you wanted to do.
Was she still in love with him? Good Lord, yes. Did she still want to wait on his every whim? No, but it wouldn’t hurt to take rediscovering herself in the relationship slowly.
She slid quietly out of bed and walked into the bathroom to take a quick shower. She got back, slid into her thong and reached for the slave tunic. Then she stopped as her hand almost touched it. No, she thought, that’s past. She looked at the selection of normal clothing and chose a shirt and shorts combination that suited her somewhat reflective mood for the day.
She stopped herself again when she found herself setting three places for breakfast. She swiftly rearranged the table for four, and then considered the food supply in the fridge as she gave the housekeeping module new instructions and watched it recalculate menus. Definitely a shopping trip today. Hopefully the household account would stand it. She frowned again. Action item: start contributing to the household account. And take her little expense item out.
As the smell of brewing coffee wafted through the apartment, Elspeth poked her head out of the room she shared with her boyfriend Sean and did a double take. “Oh! Today’s the day, isn’t it? How’s it feel?”
“Meditative,” Fiona told her. “Slavegirl is doing its withdrawal thing, and I’ve already caught myself twice and added a few action items. The one thing I’m sure of is that Derek is a keeper. As long as he doesn’t get too frustrated when the buttons don’t work any more.” She giggled at the thought.
“Should we lease a housekeeper?” Elspeth asked.
“It’s a thought, but I’m not really itching to get rid of the apartment cleaning. It’s taking me less time than I thought, and what they told me is true: the time simply goes. I don’t even remember most of it. If you want to take over your and Sean’s room, I won’t feel put out, but if you want me to keep doing it, suggest something to trade. Or don’t; I’m not at the point of wanting to balance work accounts yet.”
“You may change your mind.”
“Oh, probably. Ask me again in a couple of weeks. Right now I don’t want another female body around Derek.”
“Good point!”
A few minutes later Derek stumbled out of his room and did a double take. “You’re, uh?” he asked.
“Have you forgotten something?” she asked sweetly.
“Your birthday?”
“It’s been how long?” she prompted.
“Oh! It’s been three months.”
“Right. Don’t feel bad, I didn’t remember either until I checked why I was feeling a bit different when I woke up.”
“Oh.”
She bounced up and gave him a big hug. “Sweetie, you are going to get teased a bit when you forget something, but it’s no big deal. Get some coffee into you and you’ll be able to talk a bit better.”
“What did your mother say when you hit her up for a housekeeper?” Elspeth asked over breakfast a few weeks later. “I’ll bet it was no, in letters of fire.”
“Not quite,” Fiona answered, looking at her apartment mate. “She said that if I wanted a housekeeper, she’d pay to have you trained.”
Elspeth almost choked on her coffee. Sean whapped her across the back.
“Slavegirl Elspeth? Not even if all ...” her voice trailed off. “I have to think this one over.”
Fiona laughed, green eyes dancing. “I’d love to have you for a few months, but I think Sean has priority.”
“I do?” Sean asked, still a bit dazed by the turn of the conversation.
“I haven’t seen any sign of you two breaking up,” Derek said dryly. “Which reminds me, how did you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Fake being a slave girl that convincingly?”
“It wasn’t a fake. It’s the same setup as their student leases, with a few variations, like the Slavegirl module. They’re test marketing it here before rolling it out to all their sites nationwide.”
“Experimental?” Sean asked.
“It handles small housekeeping associations as well as small pseudo housekeeping associations It’s the pseudo part that’s unique: there isn’t anything else out there remotely like it.
“They set it up so it looked to Derek as if he was interacting directly with my control collar, and he had all the rights as if I was his slavegirl. If he’d looked real closely, he’d have seen he was interacting with Campus Slavegirls’ system. They’ve got a lot of checks for abuse built in, and limits that I set up before we started. As long as he didn’t go out of bounds, it felt real to him, and it sure felt real to me!”
Derek laughed. “I can’t have you get me a beer at the push of a button any more.”
“Right, honey.” She reached over and kissed him. “You’ve got to ask.”
She paused a moment. “Although...”
“Um?”
“The beer one got old, but there were a few I definitely liked.”
“Like the one where I’d push the button, you’d put on something sheer, short and sexy, then sit on the bed with your legs spread, blindfolded, deaf, dumb and cuffed until I was ready for you?”
“That one was marked ‘for occasional use only.’ Now that you mention it, I do find I miss the occasions!”
She stared at her coffee a moment. “I wonder.”
“What?”
“I haven’t really gotten the ‘housework is slave work’ thing out of my head yet, and I’m not at all sure I want to get it out, frankly. Housekeeping didn’t bother me a bit while I was being Slavegirl Fiona, but it’s starting to irk me again.”
She paused to look at her coffee again. “I’d kind of like to try the association option, if you’ll all go in with me on it.”
“What’s that involve?”
“The four of us sign up for a joint account. We move our schedules onto its group scheduler. Elspeth gets kennel trained, and then we tell it to treat her and me as if we had ceded housekeeping rights. We’ll tell it to do a mandatory schedule for us: it will propose a schedule for the two of us to do housekeeping, food preparation, maid duty, gofer duty and our exercise schedule, as well as make sure we can get to classes, do class assignments, study and have the time off that the Slave Code recommends. We’ll tweak it, and then when the scheduled time block comes up, the computer will make us do whatever it is.
“Derek gets his control box back; whether Sean and Elspeth want to do that is up to them. I want to see how it feels without using Slavegirl this time around. Although Derek, or rather the non-existent association, could set a policy that would install it if I started getting off target.”
“Hmmm...” Elspeth said. “You said your mother would pay for kennel training me?”
“She sure did.”
“Can we get mistress blocks as well?”
“Now that’s a good idea! I’m pretty sure you can set them up. Also free time that isn’t time off.”
“Who sets policy?” Sean asked.
“We all do, just like a regular housekeeping association. Then we live with the policy we set – until we change it.”
If you enjoyed this story, please e-mail the author and let him know. He likes to hear from his loyal fans, and it gives him some motivation to keep writing this stuff. Of course, if you're a publisher who'd like to buy this stuff, or an agent who'd like to represent him, please let him know. The starving author in the garret makes a great story, but it sucks in real life.