The Control Of Humanity.

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Section One.

Narrator:

Welcome to my country. I would like to tell you some tales of it, how we choose to live here, and the nature and quality of our culture.

First, a slave-doctor will introduce you to our most important asset; Slaves. They are the backbone of our economy, industry and service.

Part 4502: Interesting technology from years gone by part 98.

It has taken three years to train her to this degree. As she stands before me, presenting herself perfectly, I reminisce on the work I had to do to attain this example of submissive art that she personifies. As I move, her gaze tracks me at chest height, following me as I move to the bar. When I stop and lift a bottle, she skips rabbit-like across the thick carpet to reach the same corresponding position. I look upon her again, fully savoring how light she is, how softly yet quickly she springs about in her crouching gait. Her eyes settle on my chest again, awaiting my next move or command.

I pour myself a drink.

"P2," I say. She flips her body into a tighter crouch and then rolls onto her bottom and brings her ankles into her crotch. I have time to take a breath before I roll off the next command, and she moves into each position in the space of a second, in time with my breathing, all the way up to the 63 we have learned together so far. She breaks into a light sweat as I begin the third cycle, and even this makes her look even more enticing.  I finally stop her and let her rest in a relaxed pose.

Her artificial teeth glinted spectacularly in the dim light of my desk lamp. They were artificial crystal, cut to enhance their multi-colored sparkling quality. She couldn't eat with them, of course, but her diet didn't require a lot of chewing these days. They had been pulled out periodically over the last three years of her captivity, each time for a transgression in her behavior or a failure to follow his rules. She wasn't a stupid girl, or an inept student, but many of his rules were intentionally ambiguous or intricate and over-complicated. He so loved to the look of agonized indecision on her face when she met a knot in the web of his laws.

"Heel," he said, stalking toward the door. She leapt to his right heel, scampering behind him on all fours. He snapped the leather leash to her steel collar, and then he led her out and down into the bowels of the labyrinthine mansion - enjoying that the cold in these parts would discomfort her due to her nakedness, which was complete excepted only for her cold steel chains. She rattled slightly as she loped along, and he was reminded to replace her bells some day.

They reached, and turned a sharp right into the expansive torture chamber. It was brightly lit, unusually, and so they could see the Master's new slave-boy on his stand in the recessed alcove, opposite the entrance, the dildo that pierced his anus and forced him upright.

The Master pauses to examine the new toy, the girl, littlemeat sliding to a stop at his heel. He didn't like the look of the new slave's wandering eyes and vacant glare. The boy's head was twitching ever so slightly and his eyes stared into some middle distance.

"I think I overdid it with the drugs, meat. He looks all fucked up. It's a shame if I have erred with his one, his training was expensive, and now he will just be used for experimentation. What do you think meat?"

Meat the girl pet focused her eyes from their usual glassy slavespace stare and regarded her new slave-brother. "This doggie shares your view, my Master. I think it needs to be eliminated, Sir." Despite her innate compassion, something that had been sharply honed by these years of incarceration and non-consensual abuse upon herself as well as others for her punishment, she knew better than to not speak the utter truth to her owner. And this slave-boy did look pretty much fucked.

"I overdid the narcocatalogic therapy, all that being kept awake by electricity must have enhanced an existing prepossession to mild psychoactive effects. Shame. Two slaves transfigured in one day."

Meat shuddered with that, and he dragged her impatiently further into the depths of the giant torture complex.

The chamber was made up of a series of bays, some enclosed, others open like the one they soon reached. Each chamber, maybe a hundred in all, contained a different torture device or suite of devices. A servant-slave hurried close covered in burn brands and scars of past slavehood. Meat saw that this one had an eye missing. Some jewel perched in the darkened socket instead.

"What is your will, Master?" the servant requested, a hunched and broken figure next to the towering Master.

"Fire up the furnace, this one's getting seared today."

"My lord." the twisted figure hurried away. Despite years of training and conditioning, and an acceptance of her fate that had long since become the norm, she still felt a glowing spike of pure dread driven through her. She couldn’t move her muscles for a moment, and then her Master snapped her leash and led her into the bay. Dread became white-hot terror when she saw the machine.

The first thing her gaze settled upon was the blackened floating body of an animal, maybe a goat, flapping gently in an updraft of a blue hot flame which poked its sharp dagger just a half a meter below. This was behind a transparent window, and the whole was set in the front of a squat metal box the size of a cargo container.

As she was held there, forced to watch, a motif of hairs on the goat's back erupted and danced away, fireflies ascending to heaven.

She collapsed in fear as two servants came to grab her. The furnace blinked out leaving the blackened and roasted carcass to slide down onto a tray at the front of the machine.

They carried her into the rear of the machine and she was wound with wire thread to prevent her arms and legs from flapping. She screamed as the fire lit up again, echoing inside the dark interior like the ignition of a jet engine. Involuntary wheezes of fear started to emanate from her, punctuated by odd high-pitched squeaks like a mouse in the ascending claws of its killer. They tossed her in.

Another slave detached the new slave-boy from his perch. A leash was fitted and he was hobbled with heavy shackles to prevent any running or rapid movement. He was led through a virtual maze of corridors; he knew there was no way he could remember where he was.

"As you can see, the initial searing of her skin removed a barrier to true implantation. As the metal is poured over her body, it naturally glues to her lower dermal layer due to the heat of the metal in its molten state, and hence the screaming. This then quickly cools, hardens and contracts quite dramatically. Resulting in a shortened height of about 3 full inches, and some joint damage due to crushing which must be repaired later.

Initially the slave is unable to move at all, and emits these annoying yelps from behind her alloy skin. It's imperative that you drill the airway immediately to save wasting all this beautiful work. Once respiration is secure, it’s time to make holes for waste and any other requirements. Meat here has been substantially rewired so there's only one small waste hole needed. Use your pen blowtorch for this work, as any damage to the underlying dermal material is actually beneficial at this point. Be careful around the eyes, as any damage will be hard to repair from now on.

Next, the clever bit. We use high focus electro magnets to bend the alloy, the only way this can be done. Due to the excellent nature of the alloy-dermal bond, instead of being torn away from the body, it shatters instead. This creates microscopic cracks in the material at joints and stretch zones. This allows for movement and skin re-growth and limited functionality of skin between the sections of the alloy. The alloy is very light, almost exactly the same as the skin it replaces, but vastly stronger.

A side effect of the magnetic process is mineral depletion in the body, causing increased bone damage due to calcium leakage, and also magnesium build up in the brain, usually leading to early onset Alzheimer’s and other brain dysfunctions.

Now, the fun part. The slave is wheeled into the ExLo Freezers for eight hours, where final curing and some plasticization of the alloy skin occurs. The most interesting thing about this part of the process - and one reason why this new process is so popular, is that, because of accelerated hypothermia due to the fast cooling effect of metal skin, the slave enters a state of extremely low level coma. It is a state one shade up from death, where the brain is silent and body metabolism is almost zero.

This as close to suspended animation we can get. A very practical way for long term storage of slaves, within generations of the same family or corporation for instance, with little aging of the slave's basic body-chassis.

And of course, the incredible durability of this skin allows slaves to work and function in very hostile environments."

The slave meat, already dubbed metalmeat by some other people, was led out by magnetic controller to the powerful freezer. Her skin was magnetically locked and she was left standing in the middle of the freezer as the light went out and her skin began to flash- freeze her insides. In seconds her thoughts became very dull. Her muscles spasmed painfully in their metal confinement, unable to shiver. Her last drink, dirty toilet water six hours ago, froze in her colon. The moisture on her eyeballs became frigid and locked them in position. Her brain shut down. On hold.

The slave boy, whose name we might never know, was injected with a potent sedative. His brain was removed and his body fed to the pigs. They stored his brain for transplant the next time their vast pleasure complex had a brainless bodyto accommodate it. Of course, the slave’s mind could just be put back into storage, but then it would gain no experience.

Part 12074: Skaterboi part 22.

Narrator:

The Master led a servant a new work slave out into the compound, a two hundred acre estate above the facility.

Slave-boy murphy continues the story:

He had me kneel on a skateboard, and he had the servant strap my legs to it with a very large cable tie. The servant tightened it so it was cutting into my calves and it locked me securely to the board. I was fitted with a cock-gag, breath controller, blinkers, weighted nipple chains which were clipped to the edges of the board - keeping me in a low kneel, and a vibrator butt-plug with a horse's tail.

My hands were locked into two stainless steel cones, and it was obvious that the way I must move was to drag myself along by using the sharp points. Finally, he locked a meter long chain and drag hook to my testicle ring.

"Move that pile of logs from there to that storage shed," I saw the shadow of his arm moving as he pointed, but the nipple chains and blinkers made it impossible for me to see where he was pointing. I heard the crunch on the flagstone path as he walked away, and the softer pads of the servant following him. I knew that now I was forgotten. The rules were that once a task was assigned, the slave performing it could not be fed, even water, or sleep or stop working until the task was complete.

I moved off in an arc, centered on the general direction of where I guessed the Master had gestured. The first arc took me twenty minutes, the heavy hook often catching on the grooves between flagstones and stopping me with a yelp. Eventually, I found the pile of logs, on my backwards arc. They were big and heavy and I dreaded having to drag even one of them by my testicles. Luckily, they had all been fitted with large fence staples for my hook to link with them. I chose the nearest one and dragged myself past it until my hook was near the ring on the log. Moving into position was very difficult due to the shortness of the chain and the turning circle of the skateboard. After ten minutes of maneuvering, I was finally in a position to hook up to the log.

I didn't have any fingers, only these dirty steel points. I realized that the only way to pick up the hook would be to use both points, leaving me with no support. Then I would have to stretch my nipples as far as I was able to help me drop the hook through the ring.

The first hook-up took nearly an hour, and by the end I was sobbing with the agony in my nipples and the aching in my stomach muscles and arms. It took me another hour to find the storage shed and drag the log inside. Hooking off was easier, because usually I could just knock the hook out with one point.

I was on my fifth log, half way back from the pile to the storage shed, a twenty five minute leg (which I had determined by counting) when I noticed that darkness was beginning to fall.

This stunned me to a halt. Two realizations hit me. The first was that this little task could easily kill me, it was no longer a race to get the job done, but a race to finish before dehydration, exhaustion, starvation, killed me. A cold finger of fear raked through my guts. Second, at this rate it could take me nearly a week.

I began to sob. I knew that I was doomed. I would die somewhere on this vast courtyard. I would slow down and slow down, and then just stop. No one would even think of giving me the juice of their spittle, let alone any real aid, because a working slave was to all purposes invisible. I knelt stunned in this dilemma for many minutes. It was the memory of another rule that got me going again. Work-slaves that stop will be sent to execution immediately. So, I could die now or die later. It is human to opt for later, and so I pushed on.

A sickening tearing sound and a stab of icy pain from my scrotum stopped me about half way through the night. My tears of agony mixed with the constant line of drool from the edge of the big cock in my mouth. The current log, number 9, had caught on something, bringing my little convoy to a halt by nearly tearing off my testicles. It took me nearly ten minutes to get going again, and by then the brief rest had allowed the cold to bite me and then wash me with a sudden gust of freezing wind. I moved quickly, trying to get into a faster stride to stave off the cold, if I stopped for long I could be in trouble real fast.

I was trying to soothe the ache in my arms with comforting thoughts, half dreaming about soaking my poor body in a bubble bath, like those we had in the old days. The vibrator turned on. The shock was tremendous, it shook my whole frame and the buzzing was loud in my ears. I realized that I was moaning in tune with the humming of the infernal device. I was frozen on the spot for about half an hour, trembling with the discomfort, until the fucking thing deactivated. More tears, and if it wasn't for the shaking still vibrating my body they would have frozen on my cheeks. It was so cold. I lurched forward, to protect my front from the driving wind, and to rest my arms. I immediately felt myself feeling happier. I began to feel strong. I decided to rest here for a while, store my energy and then be back at it quickly.

It wasn’t until I stopped feeling the cold that I understood that it was hypothermia. I got going again, in order to survive, sobbing into the wind, my body frozen. My mind despairing.

Narrator:

This little exercise being performed by poor, sad murphy is growing stale. Let us rejoin it when it becomes more interesting. For now let me explain the functionality of our civilization.

We discovered you nearly a millennia ago, and have been planning against you ever since. We are near neighbors in the universe, and it is only natural that we try to subvert or destroy potential competitors as quickly as possible. With this in mind, and many plans made ready, we continued to keep a control on your development as a species.

Now, we have many theorists that contemplate the integral luck inherent in the predatory nature of our constant influence and recent total control over you, the substantial advantage that was given to us by developing sooner. If the shoe was on the other foot, as you say, we would be the slaves and you the Masters. But it is not to be. Ha ha.

We realized that we must act quickly when your civilization began to infiltrate outer space. The thirst of your curiosity, and the awesome discoveries so easily made would fire a massive explosion in your growth, and that could very quickly put you nearly on a par with us, technology and ability wise. To be honest, we feared you a little too. You have greater endurance than us, and your minds cope with intense boredom and misery more readily, which are obstacles in a military engagement, but perfect for your new role. We decided to act. Rather than pruning individuals for experimentation, entertainment and such, we know designed to capture and confine your entire race. It is common in galactic affairs that young species are culled or confined early in their progression, before any groups leave the home planet; just as you would kill ants by poisoning the nest. This is what we did to you.

A single weapon, with some brutally comic nickname, and launched from an archaically designed missile for further humorous effect, was fired at your world from ours. We filmed the launch and consequent party to show to you later.

Our weapon, finally free of its encumbering projectile entered your atmosphere and began its work. It immediately used material on your world to make a copy of itself, and in this way was able to multiply. Each unit then manufactured microscopic projectiles which would deliver the active contents to every single human on your world. Once the invasion had spread this far, any rebellion was impossible. From initial activation on planet’s surface to absolute global insemination was 22 hours. It occurred on Tuesday March 23rd 20— (data edited by SafeCensor Department). This date was convenient, as it was very close to the end of your term of protection, an informal agreement between cultures that gives some apparent safety to young species. A race that ends this term without the ability to defend its home planet on a global scale is almost surely doomed.

The implanted devices allowed total control of death on every single human being. Our computer system had to be upgraded before we could effectively manage all 9 billion subjects.

Our domination was now complete.

The invasion system works by giving us the ability to instantly end any human’s life. The signal is ultraquantic and so immediate and flawless. The implant allows many options upon termination. We can choose to let the personality dissipate naturally, but the system also allows collection of the personality and download to our database. From our database, a subject can be fully reconstructed in our captivity. Reconstruction of the body is easy since the mind contains all the information required, though this process and the initial downloading can be time-consuming for high numbers of individuals. Modifications can be made to the body at this stage, resulting in our newly acquired skill-base of personality programmers. Human minds in storage in our database are not alive, so no experience is gained from this period.

            We began gradually, culling and storing various examples of you. Many were not even reconstructed, but used as backwards design and practice for our programmers. We reconstructed others to be medical test subjects so that we finally totally understood your physiology and view of existence.  Behavior testing came later.

The Government then passed the Contempt Law, a determination to see our culture change its opinion of humans to very inferior. Any depiction of a human should be demeaning and denigrating to its status of having any value.

Our daily average intake of new subjects now runs at three hundred and forty eight - explosion of these figures is expected - and these are split into different groups. The first group are allocated to sale for a large profit as Basic Mental Codes. They then pass through brokers to any of thousands of very different species. Copy protection exists on these, but cracking does occur, though due to the extremely large margins involved and the inherent value of originals due to memory degradation it is small enough to be overlooked. Little data is available about the ultimate outcome of these humans.

The second group is put into long-term storage in our larger and larger data facilities for possible source-loss in the future.

The third group is your group, and the most interesting. These humans, slaves already, are now recreated as such. They awaken in their body, with the contortment of death and fear washed from their faces. Their body feels strong and new and their mind becomes alert quickly.

Maybe they are many years younger, and this would alert them that something is not heaven-holy about this dream. But they would feel so good, and so happy that they have avoided the death that had come to seize them, and any disquieting feelings would soon fade. They awaken in their own home, their own bed it seems and maybe they lie there for a while thinking on memories. Finally they would get up, and be presented with the truth.

They are then brought into our community and we play our games with them. Some get relative freedom. Others are used for life labor, the furnace that drives our manufacturing industry, others are destined to become things. You are part of the luckiest group of all, the group that comes into our community, as service, pets, transport. Lucky lucky you!

It is a feature of DNA which will cause your species to begin a slow evolution to be more like us. You are, of coure, virtually identical to us in physical make up, but your behaviors are radically different. This will change over time, removing your lust for exploration, your belief in freedom and your motivation to rebel. Your personalities will begin to lose that singular strength which first attracted us to you. You will at once become more suited to your position yet less interesting to us. Toys that don't react are of interest to no intelligence.

It is believed that slave species often become so subsumed into the host species that they will become identical in every respect. What problems or advantages this may cause are subject to debate.

But hey, this is not for a thouand thousand years, so lets not dwell upon it!

The Control Of Humanity.

Part 2734 Arrival

The recessed nature of the lights caused the pale, freshly shaven heads of the new arrivals to glimmer in the darkness. The steady drip-drips of stealthy water followed them as they were escorted from the arrival chambers. Each was still stunned by the sudden re-awakening after an assumed death, here in this dim stone and metal place, all the gloom of hell but with the promise of gambled survival, and for some in a younger version of their own bodies, no less. The naked guards were not angel or demon, but just human too. They guided their charges, a long line of bald, naked young adults, with careful directness.

"Where are we?" a small voice, a girl of about twenty-two, short, timid, arms clutched to defend her nakedness, yet trim buttocks obvious, pale and beautiful as she marched. Nothing to mark her blondeness except her fuddled memory - hair gone, eyebrows gone, something of anonymity achieved. Thus, she was ignored. The line moved on.

They were cold and tired when they reached the first chamber, the small tunnel of corridor opening into a cavernous space with brighter light, dazzling to them, and a frigid chill to the air which made the hairs on their uncovered arms and legs stand erect, and nipples to waken. The guards left them as they entered, staying them with down-thrusting palms, and still no words, drifting away quickly through the gateways of what looked like a very large airport immigration room. Yet these were entrances set into one wall, hiding who-knew-what behind the dividing line. Fear began to show itself amongst them more strongly now.

"Where are we?" asked a dark-eyed girl, her voice so small and weak, her hands slipping unconsciously across her bare skull, perhaps seeking that which had been lost. No one answered, but another started to moan a little, and a man's voice mumbled sotto voce soothing tones. Speaking here, it seemed, was in some way uncomfortable, or their minds were still recovering from the strange memories from the blankness of their 'deaths' and the other side-effects of being harvested. Such confusion, and the underbush of terrow now a-growing.

Figures appeared at the portals. Nude, of course, yet seeming to possess some authority nonetheless. A sound came then, from invisible speakers, and told them: "Please separate into queues for processing." Confusion, again, was dominant for a few moments, but the herd quickly did as instucted, beautiful and desolate in this brighly lit chamber, firm in the cold, fresh in their youth. Then it was a matter of entering, each suddenly alone as they were escorted into the darkness, the first of half a hundred examination rooms, forever branching, check after check, some medical, many not understood, some computer performed, some by naked humans, others by tall, darkly clothed and masked figures who were silent and clearly powerful, efficient and brisk, aloof, superior.

Water is given first, and taken by all due to the dehydrated nature of their fit, healthy bodies. This contains a sedative which serves to calm them for the rest of the long day of checking. Later, heavily calmed and dumbly compliant as only the heavily hypnotised or somnambulistic can be they will bewgin their descent into the processing facility. But sleep-walkers, these are not, just victims of the powerful empire which has chosen for this to be their time, as will be the fate of all of the species, when they are chosen and downloaded, grabbed and stolen, taken downward into the depths. As the new captives descend levels, a hundred or more, into the bosom of the planet, so shall they all, into the depths of hell.

Glossary of Terms.

BNP Basic Mental Codes. A human’s mind, stored in digital form; an accumulation of all the data required to reconstruct a slave as it appeared throughout any part of its existence. A BMC without a body-memory for progressing physical body states or other related error is called a BMC Slice, or Slice, as it can limit the modifications available from programming.  This term is differentiated from Sacred Holy Life Programs, which are the codes required to reconstruct real people.

BNP’s are of exactly the same functionality as any other program. They can be deleted, copied, stored etc.

The interaction between civilisations in this galactic community is similar in many ways to that of medieval Europe on your own world. War and colonisation are common, and like that historical period, the current universe has many new worlds to discover.

When cultures battle they always use slave races to do the actual fighting. Many armies, like ours, are trooped by armoured slaves you would sometimes find remarkably similar to dear little metalmeat.

And so you are subjugated, subsumed, submitted. What is your future, and what are your chances of survival, or escape, or reincarnation?

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