One thing Ann had told her employer, over and over again, was that when it came to security, the details were everything. 

Sure, you could get by winging it in the short term, or if all you were guarding was some off-books chemslingers or a scriptchipper with a grievance. But as soon as she was risking her life for someone worth a damn, she needed to tick all the boxes. Because if you don’t, the other side will, and an assassin’s bullet won’t look at your income statements before leaving out the back of your head.

The New Years Party was moving along with a draftsman’s precision. From the lighting to the catering to the entertainment provided by a live band of extremely talented performers working off a fraction of their implant debt, every aspect of the affair had been choreographed to achieve perfection. The location alone had required weeks of preparation, with the enormous rooftop gardens of Crassus Towers entirely remodelled to suit the purpose of hosting such an affair. All to the exacting whims of Zaklina Krole, Chief Technology Officer for Apotheo Systems.

But such was always the case for the end-of-year corporate bacchanal. An exclusive, memorable event that even the fringes of upper management were turned away instead of more prestigious guests. The movers and shakers from the top echelons of the Five were in attendance, along with their significant others, retainers, and bodyguards. Smaller corps, the ones who nibbled at the heels of giants, also put their best foot forward where they could wrangle a spot. Other notables included actors, politicians, and anyone who could trade in a favour. Just to attend was a privilege, because it got you in earshot of the people that mattered.

That’s why, when an otherwise nondescript man approached from the sparkling badinage, sliding between a gorgeous woman in a dress made of bioluminescent bonewire and a man whose memorable voice belonged to a dead actor, Ann noticed he was wearing an off-the-rack suit. Expensive, yes. Well accessorized cufflinks, charming bowtie. But anyone invited to an Apotheo Systems function paid for the tailor. Most owned their own. So he couldn’t be a guest, and no invitee would be caught dead with such a slovenly +1. 

But he wasn’t staff either. Her neural rig had a photo of every member registered to work both security and catering, and a quick facial recognition scan confirmed that he was on neither. That got her moving, her augmetic fingers daintily placing the crystal glass of champagne she was nursing on a passing tray before she cranked down their sensitivity and activated her support spine. It glowed neon scarlet beneath the laces of her backless ebony dress. Soon, even the most detached of corporate stooges noticed there was something amiss. 

The third detail would be missed by almost anyone: his haircut. Current masc fashion for this crowd had long backs, shorn sides. There was some room for variation; here at the top any presentation was possible. But this man’s sideburns were long, the sides of his head grown just long enough to cover his temples: the traditional installation site for several generations of military grade neural jacks.

So when the man in the mildly unfashionable haircut reached into his too large jacket, by the time his fingers were on the grip of the Traekia-13 snubnose pistol, Ann’s hand was already clamped around his wrist.

“Easy way or the hard way,” she hissed into his ear, feeling him try to pry himself loose. “Hard way is you come to the coat check near the elevator with me. Quietly. Easy way…” She squeezed onto his wrist, and the same fingers that clasped the delicate crystal glass threatened to snap the delicate bones in his wrist like matchsticks.

“Corpo bitch,” the man hissed. “You think you’re safe? The moment you aren’t useful, they’ll put you down.”

Squeeze. The man screamed, her hand clamping over his mouth just a second too late. Damn. She hated to make a scene. She hauled his squirming, shaking body out of the room while a crowd of people making phone number salaries dutifully found other topics of conversation for the duration. He almost slipped away once, but her (stylized, steel toed) flats kicked out his knee and he sank. For a moment, she remembered that her boss had tried to get her to wear heels to this affair. Heels! Ann had told her straight out that she could either wear heels, or be able to keep her safe. She was glad Zaklina had caved. Heels…fuck’s sake.

She frogmarched him past the halfway point, his strength pitiful next to her augmetics. The building’s security looked at her approach like chastened children seeing their mother arrive after work. Two of them took him by the shoulders and hauled him to the elevator, likely to the operation station that had sprawled over the underground parkade. Ann looked at the logo on their sleeves.

“Tell your supervisor that if a man with a pistol gets past Cuchulain SSC again, we’re blacklisting you. Good luck getting a contract with any of the Five again.” Letting the babbled apology fall on deaf ears, she turned toward the party, and returned to passive observation.

Across the room, the wake she’d cut in the festivities still lingered. She could see her charge, looking quite resplendent in a dress of shimmering red/gold scales that changed its hue distribution depending on what angle you viewed it at. It left her sleeves and the lower part of her legs bare, all to show off her own augs that were lightyears ahead of Ann’s. They matched Zaklina’s skintone, and would be unidentifiable as machine parts save for a thin threading of gold through the joints and at strategic intervals. Like the Japanese art of kintsugi, the imperfections making the whole more gorgeous than had they not appeared at all.

Ann returned to her charge through the wake she’d cleaved in the crowd. As she retraced her steps, the party guests rejoined into a contiguous whole. Like a zipper closing on a body bag.

“Masterful work as always dear,” the CTO declared, voice loud enough for all but the most deaf of spies and bugs to hear. She had a particular cadence to her voice when she knew she was ‘on’. She even put on a BozWash accent, mimicking that archaic rhythm of speech found today only in newscasters and period dramas set in the decades before the Whiteout. “And I see your 3G Apotheo augs are still more than a match for the rabble. Ann, darling, be a good girl and show these lovely people your arms.”

Polite applause followed. Rather than gracefully slide away from the hired help, the room’s eyes landed upon Ann. She didn’t like it. To be seen was fine. To be respected—desired, even—that was enjoyable. But to…preen? Be paraded? She froze, unsure what to do at this moment. Zaklina appeared at her side, having crossed the remaining distance between them with impressive alacrity, given her pumps. 

Suppressing a sigh, Ann rolled up the half sleeves of her dress, showing the myomimetic material of her upper arms. Once bleeding edge, now a collector’s item. Prominent on the outer chassis was the glowing red triangular mountain and stylized rocket ship in a breakaway orbit. Beneath it, the name of her employer. Her benefactor. 

Apotheo Systems. 

The shooter had gotten far too close without help. Could this be an inside job? Could there be a second shooter? Time slowed in her perception as her awareness momentarily left her corporeal form. She cleaved the IntraNet apart, her high tier of clearance and panoply of rig scripts let her mind read classified and darknet sites as easily as one scrolled their social media. Cross referencing the address and date, she found a call for a hitman on a disreputable local site. Someone offering a literally incredible amount of corporate credit to pay for the hit. 

The applause was flagging as she found the bank account of the assassin. Even as the man was on his way to be interrogated, the credit that had propelled him to homicide already trickling away into a dozen different shells. All run by the same master.

She turned to face Zaklina, whose red lips (the same proprietary shade of red as the logo on Ann’s arms) had parted to reveal a perfectly white smile. 

“Why?” Ann asked, her anger barely contained behind a mask of professional detachment.

“Yours is not to reason why, sweetiepie,” she said, then winked. Like putting out a contract on her own life was just some whimsical practical joke. As the guests’ attentions drifted once more to ramming home conversational pitons for their own social climbing, her boss’ mouth hovered close enough to Ann’s ear that her breath made the back of the bodyguard’s neck prickle in gooseflesh.

“Meet me in the penthouse after Avanti’s performance. I have a belated Christmas gift for my number one employee. And change out of that wonderful dress and into something more…practical, would you dear? One of those cute suits you like. I want you at your most comfortable for what I have in mind.” She turned on her heels and left without broaching further conversation, making apologies to select sycophants on her way toward the elevator. Confused, all Ann could do was watch the sway of her boss’ hips. They were almost hypnotic. Entrancing…it was hard to look away.

A twitch. She felt something in the back of her mind. A little itch. She clawed at it, and something came loose.

Since when did I start ogling women?

“If I could have your attention,” came a voice over the rooftop’s audio system, previous piping in the live music to places where it might be muffled by the wind, “As Q4 comes to a thrilling conclusion, I’d like to be the first to congratulate all of you who helped make this our most profitable year on record!” 

Enthusiastic applause from all but the highest in rank, those for whom the credit truly rested and thus would seem self-congratulatory to be clapping for themselves. By the time it sputtered to a halt, Zaklina was gone, and the crowd had begun to mill toward the stage. The musicians had been cleared out, and standing on the raised platform was Avanti Martins, Chief of Product Development. A frivolous man with zero taste and even fewer scruples, he’d been poached from DynaMech two years ago, taking with him much of their augmetic design department.

“The new year is going to bring in wondrous things for us in the Apotheo Systems family. And tonight, as a very special treat, I’d like to show off a new product line that’s in early development and trials. Betty, if you’d be so kind?”

All eyes turned to a gorgeous woman striding onto stage. Her four inch black stilettos clicked with every step, and it took a moment for Ann to notice that they were not shoes. The heels were her heels; a part of her cybernetic legs as much as the knees and shin. She wore a black skirt that barely cleared the barrier to be worn outside of a strip club, but the plunging neckline on her light pink blouse made it clear this was a costume, not an outfit to be worn by a serious person. Her enormous breasts were not hindered by even the hint of a bra, yet only managed a gentle, distinctive wiggle as she walked. Never sagging, but always clearly unrestrained. The sleeves of the garment were rolled up, showing off a set of matching arms to the legs. Long nails in the same light pink as her top and her lips made doing things other than look pretty a challenging prospect. 

Her lips. Those stole Ann’s attention entirely, because they were wholly unnatural things. Luxurious, pillowy creations that resembled the outer bounds of a sextoy than something that belonged on a humanoid form. Something about them transfixed her, beyond their uncanny nature. She couldn’t quite…

“Good evening, guests!” the lips spoke in a cloying, high-pitch voice. “My name is Betty Wylde, and I am not real!” 

A mix of confused laughter and looks from the crowd, punctuated by the woman on stage giving a flirty little giggle. 

“Isn’t she a treat?” Avanti said, clapping as he slipped an arm around her waist. “This little number is the latest project my team’s been cooking up. Combining our previous highly successful customizable assistant DOL program with our recently acquired assets from Tannhauser-Krupp Integrated Love Solutions, and utilizing the latest in dynamic learning artificial intelligence protocols, we’ve developed the first of a new line of intelligent, yet entirely subservient gynoids. Presenting: the very first Good Girl!”

Enthusiastic applause now, even from the C-Suite types. Ann kept her arms folded, growing increasingly disturbed by the performance. The doll, robot…thing on stage took the applause as for her entirely, and did a little wave. Her face even blushed.

“Is smiling and waving all she can do?” one of the nameless +1’s asked, his partner pushing him lightly as he spoke.

“Oh, don’t you worry,” Avanti replied with a practiced chuckle, “These Girls are fully functional in all the ways that matter. All the augmetics we tested in our ‘Your Gender, Your Way’ initiative were instrumental in designing a body that responds to the whims of even the most discerning customer. Observe.” Avanti motioned off stage, where a man brought out a dildo of absurd girth and length. A parody of masculine virtue. He held it out to the gynoid, tip first.

“Is this for me?” she asked bashfully.

“It is! Be a good girl and make this disappear, would you?”

A shudder rolled up Ann’s spine. She chalked it up forcefully to revulsion, but she stared with rapt attention as the machine woman opened her enormous, fuckhole lips and slipped them onto the head of the phallus. Then, without any further prompting or a need to breathe, she pushed forward, letting the impossibly sized prick glide down her throat and practically reach her stomach. Or where her stomach would be if she needed one. He continued his pitch, all while the gynoid’s mouth stayed obediently corked.

“The first rollout will be with this preloaded personality: a slutty, subservient secretary we plan to market as Miss Betty Wylde. But we’ve got our AI trainers working on a full line of purchasable, slottable character chips, each playing off a distinctive archetype that our data scrapers say has mass market appeal.” He pulled back his hand, sliding the dildo from her mouth. A drool equivalent coated the shaft, leaving her mouth a sloppy, wet mess. But at no point did she try to remove it herself, or shudder, or choke. Her mouth was made, first and foremost, to be used for pleasure.

When ‘Betty’ spoke again, it was with spit still dangling from her lips. “Thank you all for your attention. And if you’d like a more active demonstration, please attend to me in the utility closet. I’d love to show you some of my other…skills~”

More applause, more laughter, but Ann was already leaving. Disgusting. This whole fucking company was run by fucking moronic men and their impulses. Save her boss, of course, but she doubted Zaklina would agree with her. She was CTO, after all. If this was a product of research and development, she would have cleared it. Hell, she would have spearheaded it. 

By the time Ann pressed the button to descend to her apartment, she was questioning everything.

*** 

Something is wrong.

Ann stared at herself in the mirror of her bathroom. It had been almost twenty minutes since she returned to her apartment on the penultimate floor of Crassus Towers, one floor down from Zaklina’s penthouse suite. She’s quickly stripped out of the dress, feeling like herself standing naked and free of the frivolous garment. But when she looked at her own reflection, truly gazing at it and not just quick peeks to confirm her makeup was in place or her bra strap was out of sight, she could see that something…off about her reflection.

She’d always presented in a butch fashion. Her hair ran on the shorter side, even when younger. She only got her ears pierced after she’d gotten her neural rig installed, the pinprick of pain making her laugh at the triviality of it in comparison. Over time, she’d made compromises to her preferred aesthetics in order to conform to particular expectations. Apotheo Systems felt like it hadn’t changed its dress code in centuries.

But as she touched the part of the mirror reflecting her lips, she knew in her heart that they were wrong. They still held the glossy dark red lipstick, and as she moved to wipe off the colouring, the lips looked unnaturally large. But these were how they always looked, right? She tried to remember any time when she’d noticed her features as particularly noteworthy. No, she’d always been tall. She’d always been…

Her breasts. They were large, and they had been since they’d grown in, right? She strained to remember a time when she didn’t feel these heavy weights on her chest, of worrying about having them pop out at an inopportune time when she was trying to do her job. But before she took this job, she wore suits all the time, and they’d never bothered her then…

There were other little things that were nagging at her. The scars from previous fights were all gone, despite never having gone for dermal regen treatment. And strangest of all: she was horny. Too horny, and horny for all the wrong things.

Ann wasn’t asexual, but she ran fairly cold with libidinal matters. It took a lot to get her in the mood, and few men were fit to lick her boots, let alone press her to the mattress. As her mind went back to the gynoid on display, the perverse assemblage of parts crudely grafted together to entice the most base of male desires. Seeing her pert lips giggle, watching that cock just vanish down her throat…

Ann jolted. Her fingers had drifted between her legs. She was about to masturbate? To the sight of a female sextoy? Looking into the woman she saw in the mirror, the confusion only deepened. This wasn’t her. Something was affecting her.

Her head shot up. Espionage. It had to be! One of the other Five had infiltrated her with some kind of program that was corrupting her combat readiness. Ann nodded, liking the sound of that explanation. Taking a moment to remove every trace of the makeup that had been plastered onto her face, she dressed back into a proper black suit for protection duty. Zaklina had to be informed. Then, she could go down to Intrusion Security at Apotheo’s Headquarters. Whatever was altering her mind would be ripped out, root and stem, and she could get back to her old self.

Mentally, at least. She’d always looked like the woman in the mirror. She couldn’t picture looking any other way.

*** 

Ann tapped her identikey to the elevator’s reader, then hit the button for Zaklina’s penthouse. A moment later, the door opened onto the immense, decadent space. Richly decorated in the Neo-Industrialist fashion, a roaring fire of actual wood bathed the entrance hall slash open concept living room in light and warmth. Above, a gorgeous trompe-l’œil ceiling designed to fool the eye into thinking this was but the base of a tower that ascended to heaven. At her feet, handcrafted rugs atop a dark wood flooring likely pulled from a forest that no longer existed.

Which made the enormous SecuriCrate sitting dead centre in the middle of the living room difficult to ignore.

It was the size of a casket and made of a proprietary tritanium alloy, the sides painted in red and white diagonal banding designed to make its presence visible if lost over a body of water or buried in a missile strike. It was where members of the Five, and the few others who could afford such expense, kept their most precious valuables should they need to be moved. SecuriCrates could only be opened by directly applied genetic material, and only in addition to an access code. How it had even gotten into the elevator without her knowledge was concerning. What it was doing here, more so. Without knowing what it was, it could have been a bomb, or a HK Drone, or any number of other dangers.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Zaklina’s voice called from the bedroom. “I’ll be out in a moment.” 

Ann did her best not to prod at the intrusive object, but it was difficult. It completely clashed with the aesthetic of the rest of the penthouse. Not to mention the active threat it represented. Perhaps it was nerve gas? QuadCom used bombs in safes to deter rivals from accessing their proprietary circuit maps…

Before she could ruminate further, Zaklina appeared from the open double doors. She wore nothing but a dark red robe that ended above her knee, her hands tying the binding around her waist as she walked.  

“Good to see you back in such…intimidating livery,” she said, slipping past the SecuriCrate to make herself a drink at the bar. “Would you like one? It’s almost midnight.”

“No, thank you. Before you go any further, however, I have to tell you that I believe I’ve been compromised.”

“Oh?” the CTO said, an eyebrow perking up as she poured herself a cocktail. “Have you run a diagnostic? What’s the issue?”

“I’ve run several, all came up with nothing. But I believe that something has deeply compromised my systems. I’m experiencing…incongruities. I think I’m being hacked.”

“Ah. Well, if that’s all there is, we can discuss it later. In the meantime, I have a gift for you. To celebrate the New Year, or a belated Christmas gift. Whichever suits your fancy.” She made a broad gesture, like a model on a gamecast, toward the enormous SecuriCrate.

Ann was caught by how blase Zaklina was taking the reported threat. She looked between her boss and the container several times, unsure how to proceed. 

“I…this is for me?” 

“Correct! You’ve been with me, what, three years now? I’ve put you through some rather strenuous trials. I figure you’re owed a little extra bonus as we enter a new fiscal year. Both of us will be quite busy, I can promise you that!”

The bodyguard nodded, approaching the crate. The control panel sat dead centre but facing the right side, like it was meant to stand on one end. She leaned over to examine it.

“Who is it genecoded for?”

“You, of course! The passcode is the first day we met. When I saw you across the room at a gala of living art and you pushed me out of the way of a Hunter Killer drone, losing your arm in the process. It was all I could do to hire you, as well as pay for a replacement.” 

Something odd touched Zaklina’s tone. This whole evening had the air of strangeness to it, but Ann typed in the date, nonetheless. It wasn’t like she needed to strain very hard to remember the night she’d lost a limb. Over time, she’d voluntarily had the rest swapped for matching milgrade replacements. Along with the upgrades to her rig, the spinal core, and a dozen other little augs that had made her such a formidable guardian. But that was the moment where her life had changed. As she keyed the last digit of the date, Ann wondered whether it was for the better…or-

The SecuriCrate popped open, hydraulic seals hissing and sealing bolts spinning of their own accord. The machine opened forth, the lid peeling back to reveal several trays that levered out, one after the other, on squealing actuators. Four trays total, each holding a single cybernetic limb. 

But these weren’t combat augs. These were practically sex toys. The arms on either side were dainty, pale things. Rather than bundles of myomimetic muscle, these looked barely fit enough to lift themselves, let alone perform useful work. Long pink nails were already fused to their surface, surely impeding any task other than looking pretty. Even worse were the legs, which were permanently fused to a set of heels that-

Ann stumbled backward. She’d seen these limbs before. On the Gynoid at the party. On Betty Wylde, the slutty secretary.

The same part of her brain that pieced together who had really sent the assassin went into overdrive. The changes she saw in the mirror. The changes to her sexuality. It was all her!

This level of outrageous violation could not stand. Fuck the contract, fuck the guards just one floor up, all she saw was red. Ann stalked forward, eyes wide, nostrils flaring like some enraged beast of myth. She reeled back to put several million credits of high tech chrome fist through Zaklina’s head. 

“Implant Override Command: Good Girls Use Their Words.”

Ann froze. Or rather, her implants seized up and ceased active motion. From her off-balanced stance caught half way through a haymaker, she was returned against her will to an at ease stance.

“Oh dear. Oh my sweet little Ann. You’re so predictable.” Zaklina clucked her tongue as she orbited around her bodyguard. Ann’s rage transmuted to fear as she realized how helpless her augmetics had made her. How had she not prepared for this scenario? How had she not spotted a total override like this?

“What…why? Why are you doing this?” she asked, unable to keep the terror from her voice. Helplessness was never a state she enjoyed, but even when she was a child, she could run. She could cower. Now she couldn’t even do that.

Zaklina settled into her performance voice playing to an audience of one. “My dear, I’ve always had my eye on you. So dower, so serious, so…masculine. I just had to take you for my own. And I was satisfied to make a woman like you my loyal dog, but as I advanced in ranks up the corporate ladder, my needs changed. And soon I won’t need a bodyguard. I’ll have a small army protecting me. But what I do want…what I do need…is a wife.”

“Why me? You’re the CTO of Apotheo Systems for fuck’s sake. You have to be batting away the suitors.” 

“I am leaving Apotheo Systems, taking with me a large portion of the company’s research and development, classified miltech patents, and a number of key staff. And you, of course. Your contract is technically with them, but I’ve grown fond of you. I’d like to see you perform a new role for me, however.”

She undid her bathrobe, revealing her nude form to Ann for the first time. And among the many surprises, tattoos from a long defunct streetgang for one, there was one that made Ann go from beet red to white as a sheet.

Zaklina had a cock. But not a natural one, nor one formed through traditional gender affirming surgery. Hers was a work of biomimetic art. A statement piece that mimicked the golden lacquer veins that lined her limbs, it nevertheless twitched and throbbed like one she was born with.

“One of the things I demanded in return for my premature end of contract was that DynaMech give me the ability to sire a child. And after two years of R&D, they have. One hell of a hiring bonus, don’t you think?”

Ann tried to reason out what Zaklina’s desire to sire children had to do with growing a penis, and standing helpless before her, she didn’t like the answer. 

“You can’t be serious.”

The CTO, at least for now, offered a chuckle. “You’ve got an inquisitive mind for a brute, but you’re always only one step behind. Yes, you’re correct, I want you to be my partner in the exciting life journey that is parenthood. Well, it’s moreso that I want heirs. Children I can pass down my incredible wealth, material and intellectual, to. But the cutthroat world of business doesn’t deal well with a woman trying to ‘have it all’ as I’m sure you’ll agree. So I had to make some alternative arrangements.”

Ann’s limbs began to move again. A moment’s relief turned back to horror as the arms didn’t listen to her instructions. Instead, they began disrobing her. Carefully at first, but as the fabric refused to budge to their fumbling efforts, the powerful miltech tore at her best suit, ripping it to shreds while she watched. In moments, thousands of credits of tailored perfection had been ripped from her body by her own hand, leaving her in nothing but her bra and panties.

Powerlessness. That was something she’d rarely felt, but she was drowning in now. And despite the fear, despite the anger, she felt something else blossom in her. Arousal. She shut her eyes, trying to focus on that burnin cinder. The desire to turn her boss into a fine paste. But caught so between a prison of her own limbs, the ache in her nethers was the one that clawed at her the most.

“I have to give credit to my team of endocrinologists,” Zaklina continued. “They managed to allow me to maintain an erection without impacting my hormonal balance. Synthesizing the sperm was its own challenge, but thanks to some deft bioengineering and synthetic testes-”

“But I can’t be a mother!” Ann screamed, twisting in the grasp of her own augments. “I had my tubes tied in the military, and-” 

“And mild radiation damage to your ovaries due to time spent in the Western Glow, I know,” Zaklina said, waving it away like an errant fly. “That’s all been repaired. Partially thanks to grafts from my own reproductive organs. Your predisposition toward male partners presented a risk, as I didn’t want any unsafe sex you might have had off the clock could have prematurely revealed your fertility. But I was lucky that you only used online comms to meet partners. You’ve been chatting with AI simulacra for months now, and they always seem to be unavailable to meet up when you have a day off. Men, am I right? You’ll be much happier as a bisexual. Tell me: did Miss Wylde turn you on?”

She shook her head, the one part of her body she appeared to have control over. But at the denial, her rig’s internal screen was filled with images taken from her ocular feed. High resolution images showing where her eyes locked on, statistics showing for how much time she looked at the sex drone’s plush lips, heart rate and galvanic skin response to hearing her speak.

“I’m not fucking gay!” she screamed, fury in her eyes.

“True. Not yet, anyways. I’d love to make you a raging dyke, just yank you across the Kinsey scale kicking and screaming until your ideal date is four hours spent between my legs. But I would like you to retain some male attraction. I’ve some use for an outwardly demure wife who will attend to my guest’s every need…all while collecting audio and visual data for later blackmail, of course.”

Ann had tried reason. It rarely worked, but it was worth a shot. Perhaps emotion would trigger something…anything…in her boss to dissuade her from this course of action.

“Do you really want a wife who doesn’t love you?”

Zaklina looked at her like she’d just spoken a dead language. The laughter started. Then kept going. She laughed more in that one lull in the conversation than Ann had heard the CTO offer in the entire three years she’d been her bodyguard.

“Oh, of all the things to say. You truly are one of a kind. Of course you’ll love me. You know how many man-hours were spent synthesizing love down in the Personality Department? Hell, half the Good Girl program in its entirety was based on the testing I did on you. Do you know how many times you’ve looked at me, dead in the eye, and told me with your whole heart that you love me?”

Ann’s eyes bugged. “No…you…I don’t believe you. Of all the…of all the people, of all the drones and bots and machines you have access to…why me?”

“Convenience, at first. You’re the most accessible candidate. You already have a compatible neural rig. You essentially gave yourself to me. All that was lacking was the consent forms which, of course, are trivial to forge. I ran simple personality archetypes with you as the vessel because it was faster. But as I edited you, again and again, trying new synthetic identities, making you dance and sing and present yourself like a blushing bride…I grew attached to you. Don’t mistake this for some theatrical morality reversal, but your convenience turned into familiarity.”

An opening! Ann was not a social engineer, but anyone in the corporate world knew the basics. Perhaps she could leverage herself an opening…

“I’d thought we had a partnership together. I’ve protected you from dangers countless times. More than you know!”

“But I don’t need a bodyguard anymore…I need the new version of you.” 

She walked over to a spot behind the bar and withdrew a plastic media case. Inside were six slots for thumbnail size data chips, the kind used for transferring media that needed to be airgapped or otherwise safe from intrusion. Only one of the slots was taken, and she popped the chip into her fingers.

“What is that?” Ann asked, eyes locked on the chip like it was a pill of cyanide with her name on it.

“Why, it’s you! Or the latest version of you. I’ve had Avanti’s team build a whole new, customized Ann for my use. She’s based on the prototype for the Housewife personality they’ll be selling in stores this year. I call her Annie Belle.”

Ann felt a port in her neck push in, and something cold click against her spine. Then, all at once, she was no longer in control of herself. Ann vanished beneath the waves of programming, and Mrs. Annie Belle emerged.

Her face was frowning, which was strange, because she was standing in front of her sweetheart! She swooned, hands clasped together as she rested her cheek on them.

“It’s so good to see you again, dear!” she said in a bubbly voice. The motion, however, made her realize that she was nearly naked! Annie ‘eep’d!’ at the revelation that she was in her underwear, but laughed it off with an easy giggle. 

“Did you forget to put on clothes again?” Zaklina asked in a condescending tone. “I know you get so distracted sometimes.” 

“Ehe, I might have! But it’s soooo easy to lose my train of thought when I have such a gorgeous snack for a wife!” 

Zaklina smiled thinly. “Husband.”

“What?”

“I’d prefer to be your husband, dear. See, a wife’s place is in the home, taking care of the children. I’m the breadwinner. The head of the household. Therefore, I should be the husband.”

A flicker as something locked into place for Annie, then her giddy grin returned. “Of course! That makes so much sense, silly me!” 

“It’s alright dear. I have a way for you to make it up to me.” Ann followed her husband’s eyes down to between her legs, catching sight of Zaklina’s gorgeous erection. It was so big!

“Oh my goodness!” she squeaked, clapping her cheeks in surprise, making an alluring O with her lips as she did. “Is that for me?”

“Yes it is dear. Be a good girl and make it soft again, would you?”

Annie nodded eagerly, bending into a leg-splaying squat to get a good look at the organ before her. Straining credulity of being a natural manifestation in size and width, the hint of gold pulsing through it made its expensive origin in a biogenetics lab clear. Nevertheless, it responded just like the real thing. Annie licked it, and her eyes rolled back at the taste. Girlsweat and musk, her favourite! She ran her tongue up it, again and again, like it was a deliriously tasty lollipop. 

But Zaklina wasn’t in a patient mood, apparently. She gripped the back of Annie’s head, angling her head against her wife’s lower lip. 

“Open wide, slut,” she purred. Annie did, her mouth forming that perfect ring again. With a throaty groan, the CTO slid herself inside. “Fuck. This mouth was worth every penny. I’m sure you agree, given that according to the bank…ngh…records, you’ve been using your savings to pay for your own modification.”

Annie didn’t quite catch what her husband was saying. Her whole focus was on the throat-stretching thickness that pushed down the back of her tongue and down into her throat. Slowly, slowly, taking more and more of it. Her lips slipped back and forth, forming a sticky seal around the cock like a premium sucktoy.

“That’s it…all the way down,” Zaklina encouraged. More and more master-crafted meat pushed down her throat. There was no gag reflex to worry about, and her breathing seemed to take care of itself. Like she was made to suck cock. Like she was built to pleasure this one woman’s length. She reached up to steady herself, but Zaklina slapped down down with a firm flick of her finger.

“Mmm!” Annie said. That hurt!

“Hands at your sides, dear. Your mouth is my hole to fuck, okay? Just focus on being useful.”

So she did. Her hands trembled at her sides as she knelt and submitted herself to having her throat treated like a fleshlight. Wet slapping noises filled the expensive room, and despite her lips seal, she was unable to keep saliva from slipping out and drooling down her face. She must have looked so silly!

Being used so thoroughly made Annie horny beyond belief. She ached to touch herself, frig her needy pussy and pretend the cock in her throat was fucking her pussy. But she obeyed, like a Good Girl ought to, and kept her hands from wandering. Even still, the arousal in the pit of her stomach grew, and she could feel that stickiness return to her lower lips. Sucking cock always made her so wet!

More inches disappeared down her throat. The base was getting closer with every thrust. Her breathing began to sputter, but she did her best to catch air on the withdrawal. A block. A tightness. She struggled. Had she reached her limit? Was this all the cock she could take? No, it was her new throat. Her body had ridges and chambers in it like a sex toy, providing resistance and little suction points to maximize pleasure. She relaxed further, opening herself. It was her purpose. Her wifely duty. Yielding to cock in complete abandon. And soon her lips kissed the very base of Zaklina’s dick. 

“Good girl,” her husband exclaimed, sending a jolt of bliss through Annie’s body. Her panties visibly darkened around her sopping wet slit, and she spread herself just a little more to show that off. “What if I wanted to dump this load down your throat, directly into your belly. Giving you an entire meal of me. You’d have no problem being used like a condom, would you?”

She did her best to shake her head no without dislodging the dick in her mouth. Zaklina laughed. Annie loved that sound…such a pretty voice!

Her hubby used her for a few more minutes, but Annie could tell she was getting close to her limit. So was Annie, as she wasn’t quite getting the breathing opportunities that she wanted to. Perhaps sensing this, Zaklina pulled herself all the way out for the first time, cock glistening with Annie’s throat juices and spit.

“Be a good girl and finish me on your face,” she ordered. Annie obeyed, both hands wrapping around the throbbing prick to coax her husband out of the last of her stamina. Her powerful augments held a dainty, feminine grip, and she opened her drooling mouth wide to show just how eager she was to be painted with cream. 

And in a fit of playful cruelty, Zaklina chose that moment to deactivate the personality chip’s control of Ann’s head only.

The bodyguard returned just in time to watch as she jerked her tormentor to completion, sending the first spurts of seed spattering across her face. She did her best to turn away, to close her eyes, but the rest of her body didn’t cooperate. White, creamy cum glazed her features, marking the first time she’d given another woman an orgasm.

Zaklina’s throat rumbled a throaty moan, but she didn’t lose sight of Ann. In that moment, they both knew that the base sexual pleasure was entirely secondary. Zaklina got off on making Ann degrade herself. The sex was secondary.

“God damnit. You look gorgeous. I much prefer when you wear makeup.”

“You fucking bitch!” Ann snarled, letting a droplet of cum slide onto her bottom lip. She licked at it instinctively, and instantly regretted it. She spat it out, doing her best to clear her face of the load shot upon it. But Annie still controlled her limbs, of course. So she just squatted there, legs splayed in shameless pose lifted straight from the thumbnail of a porn video, as semen dripped down her face.

“Don’t think this is the first time you’ve tasted my spunk, dear,” Zaklina commented, sliding a hand down her face to push a large dollop of salty white toward her fuckpillow lips. “One of the first physical modifications I made was to your mouth and throat. In fact, all of your holes have been completely redesigned for my pleasure in one way or another.” Ann refused to open her mouth to let the cum in, so Zaklina just spread it across like lipgloss.

Popping noises interrupted their pleasant conversation. A dim, distant hope pushed its way into Ann’s mind. Gunshots? The government! Had they chosen this moment to finally smash the Five? Another assassin sent to kill Zaklina and prove, once and for all, that she NEEDED her protection?

No. The glimmer of colourful light out the window told her it was fireworks. New Years had come at last.

“Ah, but I do go on. I tell you this every time, you know? But we’re on the clock. This’ll have to be the last expository monologue…oh who am I kidding? I can never promise that!” She sent another set of commands to the ‘Annie’ currently operating her augs, and Ann jerked to her feet. Insult to further injury, she sashayed like some stimbar harlot toward the bedroom, hips like a metronome, until she settled down with a gentle grace upon the too-soft mattress. 

The vulnerable position on the bed made her all too aware of Zaklina’s previously mentioned intentions. Getting showered in cum was one thing, but…

“Listen…if you’re going to do what I think you’re going to do…just let the chip take over. Please. I don’t…I don’t want to feel that.”

Zaklina entered the bedroom with the pair of feminine augmetic legs in either hand. She placed them opposite Ann, then went back for the arms. They were rather heavy, but the CTO’s augs were far stronger than they looked.

“I’m not a monster, Ann. Of course I want to impregnate the version of you who will beg me to do it. But the extraction team from DynaMech is on its way. I have to get you ready for shipment.” 

Zaklina sent another command to deactivate Ann’s limbs. The myomimetic muscle sagged, taking a rubber-like consistency as the current drained from its fibers. Once safe to do so, she began removing her chrome augmetics. Each popped off with a sickening finality, which Ann was loath to watch but unable to keep herself from hearing. Her controller paused at the final leg. 

“Aren’t you going to ask ‘what shipment’?”

Ann shook her head. “What does it matter?”

“Oh come now. Your curiosity and fighting spirit is what makes you who you are! Don’t lose that to me already!” Zaklina chided, then shook her head. “I suppose it’s to be expected. In fact, I’m surprised you haven’t noticed the bleed yet.”

“The bleed?” Ann asked, then chided herself. Another chance for this tyrant bitch to ramble.

“Oh, yes, the bleed. See, your personality has been subsumed so many times that it’s starting to attrit your real self. These last months I’ve been perfecting Annie, uploading her into you again, and again. She’s starting to melt the original version of Ann away.”

That got her attention again. Being chipped into acting like a slutty wife was one thing. But to lose herself entirely…realization filtered in. All the things she’d noticed. The way she’d begun to fantasize about submitting to her partners rather than dominate them. The empty headed acquiescence she’d offered to posing like a model early in the evening. Even her physical form had changed without her knowledge! If what Zaklina was saying was true, large portions of her body weren’t even Ann anymore. 

“Why? Why tell me this? Why point out all the changes I missed, the memories I don’t have…why do all of this just to put a chip in me?” 

“Because I don’t want this to end,” Zaklina said. This time her voice was honest, without a hint of merciless chiding…and that made it all the more horrible. “I could have chipped you the moment you walked in and never looked back. But as much as I love Annie Belle, I LOVE playing with you more. So I’ll be keeping you around. Not to torture you, understand. But because I get immense gratification and joy from watching you bend. Break. I want to see more parts of your stony exterior crack and fall away, leaving a smooth, featureless surface. Something I can paint on. Make you look silly. Frivolous. I want people to look at you and ask ‘does she have any fucking shame?’ God, you have no idea how many nights I’ve beaten off to your dumb fucking face. Your vacant expression. The look in your eye when I show you a photo of what you looked like before you worked for me. Do you even know if Ann was your original name?”

Ann was speechless. The sheer amount of statements she’d thrown out like live grenades made it impossible to react to them all. And all the while, Zaklina’s cock had gotten harder. The whole time she talked about the humiliation she’d visit on her former bodyguard, the disgusting pervert of a boss only got more and more aroused.

“You’re…you’re evil,” Ann said, unable to think of anything else to say.

“Yes, my dear. And soon, you’ll be my wife.”

Zaklina activated the chip again, and Annie Bell returned with a smile. Her limbless organic form did its best to greet her husband, but it was a little tricky!

“Golly Gosh and Jeez Louise! Look at the situation I’ve got myself stuck in!” she said with a flustered expression. “Honey, could you plug in my arms and legs again?” 

“Of course, buttercup,” Zaklina said, and lifted Ann’s old milgrade left arm.

“No no, silly!” Annie said, leaning over to point with her eyes at the silly pink replacements. “Those ones!”

Her husband chuckled. “Of course, dear. How silly of me.” 

She took her time clamping the feminine augs into place, using it to feel up the vulnerable woman’s body beneath her. The sensation of helplessness was extremely thrilling to Annie, so it was no surprise when her pussy began to visibly dampen Ann’s rather plain set of panties. Her nipples grew stiff as well, as the whole of her organic form yearned to be touched and squeezed.

With the pink heel-feet locked into place, and the slim arms with the dainty fingers joined them, Annie activated the bonding protocol and began feeling out her new appendages. But, of course, they were her normal arms and legs. The discontinuity was quickly ignored, and she soon was too focused on how pretty they made her feel than consider any seeming contradictions. After all, uncomfortable thoughts were always best seen in the rearview mirror!

“Let’s do a sensory test run,” Zaklina said, running her hand up Annie’s thigh. She sighed, quivering slightly at the touch. Her husband ran similar tests up and down her body, and soon her panties were utterly soaked. It wasn’t nice for a good girl to just ask to be fucked, but that’s all she wanted to do.

“Umm…sweetheart?”

“Yes honeybunch?”

Annie bit her lip, opening her legs as wide as they could go. “I’m feeling a little strange down…down here,” she said, pointing to her panties. “Could you run a few sensory tests there? For me?”

Zaklina’s attention flickered. “Hmm. The extraction team’s delayed a bit in securing ground transport. Seems there’s a gunfight in progress. I’d like you in your box before they get here…but I believe we have some time.” 

She pulled at the panties, and they slid up and down her wife’s graceful legs, revealing Annie’s enhanced vagina in its artisanal perfection. Perfectly suited for its dual purposes, she couldn’t help but look at it like one might a capstone in her career. The first payment of many for her services to DynaMech. The bra held less significance, as the breast implants were little more than off the shelf models with enhancements for lactation support from a fetish supply subsidiary. Nevertheless, Zaklina wanted to see them. The cups snapped apart with ease under her enhanced strength and the last thing from Ann’s wardrobe fell uselessly to the bedding on either side of Annie’s chest.

From Annie’s perspective, her husband was mere moments away from ravishing her. Taking her on the bed as she’d done countless times. So why did it all feel so terribly exciting? Why was her heart racing, pounding in her head and making her dizzy and weak?

“I…I want you inside of me,” Annie admitted, her face burning from the admission.

Zaklina slid atop her. Her arms lifted Annie’s legs, and the golden biomimetic cock came to rest between her lower lips. Gently, she thrust forward. 

“How much do you want it?”

“More…more than anything!” Annie said through a gasp, Zaklina’s tip prodding her clit and sending impossibly vivid sensations up her body. 

“But it’s not a safe day, is it?” she asked, continuing to grind. “Your body is so fertile that anything, even just sliding myself inside, can get you pregnant. Is that what you want?”

Annie moaned, her body writhing and her arms gripping the bedding. 

“I just…I can’t take this need! I…I want it!”

“Even if it means becoming a mother?”

“Yes!”

“Even if it means becoming my housebound wife, who sees to my every need, who raises my children and does what she’s told?”

“Yessss!” Annie’s pussy dribbled and her thighs clamped down, the words making her squirt a sharp, sudden climax onto Zaklina’s cock. When she came back down, her yearning had only grown. She wanted more. She wanted it all.

A final thrust, and Zaklina gave her what they both wanted most. Letting out a feral groan, she unleashed a small fortune in biotech-cultivated semen into Annie’s fertile body, basting her insides with the next generation of corporate tyrants. An amount of seed impossible without technological enhancement pulsed into her body, jet after jet sealing Annie’s future as a mother. She came too, of course, but only because her pussy detected the release and triggered the semen retention protocol, milking the cock within her with mathematic precision and retaining as much cum as possible as to facilitate her fertilization.

Zaklina only pulled out when she heard the five minute warning from the extraction team. With a sigh, she withdrew her limp cock and captured forever with her internal visual suite the moment that a fountain of her own cum pour out of Annie’s body. It drooled lazily into the bedspread, a look of dazed satisfaction on her wife’s face.

“Any chance you have another in you?” she asked with a titter.

“Fraid not, gorgeous. Now come. Our ride’s almost here.” 

She led Annie over to the SecuriCrate. Casually ripping out the theatrical display pieces that had held the augmetic limbs, she reset the crates internals for live, organic shipment. This one had been specially modified for such a purpose.

“What’s that?” Annie asked, a dull glint of Ann’s genuine curiosity in the voice. 

“It’s a kind of…sleeping beauty pod. Technically, you’ll be being moved as cargo to get around customs, so you’ll need to be strapped in securely.” Zaklina helped Annie inside, motioning for her to lay down. A magnetic lock on the internal ferrous core of her limbs slotted her perfectly into place, and belts and harnesses came down like spiderwebs to secure her from moving in transit. From the short sides of the crate she pulled a pair of apparatuses. The first from the side where her feet were locked was almost like a chastity belt. Inside, a pair of toys made to slip inside her made chastity the last thing on anyone’s mind. The second, closest to her head, was a heavily modified netdiving interface, complete with virtual reality headset. The most prominent modification was a strap over the mouth, fitted with a dildo fitted with a clear tube that ran into the internals of the crate.

She slipped both the belt and the rig onto her wife as she explained. “What we’re going to do has never been attempted before. It might not even work. But my wife deserves the best, and I intend to give her the best.” 

Annie listened obediently, wincing as the toy slipped inside of her bottom and whimpering a little when the other plugged her still tender, still creamfilled hole. The belt ‘turned on’, vibrating gently, and she felt the mess in the pussy begin to drain away into another set of tubes. 

Zaklina continued: “You see, there’s another Annie inside you. And while I like her a lot, she doesn’t much like me. And as long as she’s inside you, my precious Annie’s in danger.”

“Oh my gosh, really?” she asked. “That’s scary!”

“It is. But she’s also smart, and strong, and a singularly fascinating young woman. So I’m going to try something nobody has ever done before.” Zaklina leaned back and plucked an empty chip she’d saved for this exact occasion, clipping it into a receptacle on the netdiving headset. “I’m going to download her into this.”

Annie didn’t fully understand the implications of that, but if Zaklina thought it was the right thing to do, then it must be.

“Will she be okay?” Annie asked.

“Of course! Probably. But it’ll mean that you’ll be the only Annie in this body. Even if I pull the chip out, all there’ll be will be my perfect little wife.”

“Aww…you think I’m perfect?” Annie asked, totally glossing over the existential implications to bat her pretty eyes.

“In every way.” Zaklina slipped the cables into Annie’s cranial and spinal ports, then pushed the dildo into her mouth. Her bimbo lips formed a tight seal around it, just like a good girl ought to. “Alright, so the crate will close soon. Don’t be alarmed! Air and nutrients will come through the toy in your mouth, and it’ll buzz when the flow of one changes to the other. Swallowing while holding your breath is a little challenging, but it’s a skill you need to learn anyways. And don’t worry, you won’t be bored. While the download is happening, I’ve prepared some special programs to keep your mind busy. Goodbye, Annie Belle Krole. Next time I see you, you’ll be in your new home.”

The SecuriCrate sealed, plunging Annie into complete darkness. Scary! The connection to her rig turned on with a pop, and her eyes filled with various screens and bars in a frosting pink colour. A moment of calm. She always loved pi-

The screens in her neural rig began to display various videos, taken from archaic black and white film reels. Instructions on how to cook, how to clean, how to be obedient and servile. She couldn’t look away. They were in her mind, and all that she could see besides it was darkness. But why would she ever want to look away? She watched, she listened, and she relaxed.

The toys on the belt began to vibrate, making her squeak around the toy in her mouth. She hadn’t expected that! It felt good though. Just a dull pulse of stimulation, nothing to make her squirt, just enough to keep her engaged. The ebb and flow of the vibrations was timed to the video length, she soon realized, peaking as the orchestra swelled and the final words of wisdom were imparted. The more she felt herself sink into the videos, internalizing their simplistic, moralizing lessons, the more the toys vibrated. 

Annie felt the crate be moved, but heard nothing outside it. After the first round of videos, she felt a gush of moisture from the toy in her pussy. Had it just spurted inside her? An answer came at feeding time, when the toy’s flow of air in her mouth was replaced with a deluge of fluid. She tasted it before swallowing, and it was impossible to miss the salty flavour of spunk, even if it was covered up with sweeteners and other stuff.

Oh my gosh, she thought to herself, I’m helplessly trapped in bondage in a closet being stuffed full of my husband’s cum from both ends while videos teach me to be the best wife I can be are shot directly into my brain so I can’t miss a single moment?

I’m the luckiest girl in the world!

By the time the SecuriCrate had reached the airport, the videos had begun to loop, and she was starting to anticipate her favourite parts. 

By the time they touched down in New Johannesburg Airport, she was humping gently against the toys inside her, wishing it was Zaklina’s real cock. She’d felt something tug at her mind for a while, like it was trying to hold on. But it slipped out her thoughts, and Annie awaited with joy as The Kitchen of Tomorrow replayed the part about icing cakes. Mmm…rich, creamy icing…

By the time the crate was on a flatbed on its way to its final destination, there was only Annie left. Sweet, docile, submissive Annie. And the only thing she wanted more than that adorable little dress that the woman in the head-video was wearing…was to see her handsome and generous husband again.

***

Oh how the time flies, Annie Belle Krole thought as she lifted her considerable belly up to a standing position. It feels like she’d just woken up! But it had been hours since her eyes had opened to her husband using her face to catch a fresh load before heading off to work. After giving her dick a goodbye kiss, the hours had just fled away! Between cooking and cleaning and all the silly little things she did to keep herself busy, it was almost time to greet her husband after her long day of work!

Annie hummed as she waddled over to the kitchen, putting away her cleaning supplies and checking on the roast and potatoes in the oven. Zaklina had asked if she’d needed help, but Annie had insisted that she maintain her wifely duties for as long as she could. Just because she was pregnant didn’t make her helpless! She was a strong and powerful woman, and she would do what chores she could until the babies came.

She rubbed her enormous tummy with a delirious joy. Babies! Plural! They were due in mere weeks. At least that’s what the doohickeys and gadgets they had installed in their home had told her. She didn’t understand all of it, but apparently her three bundles of joy were healthy. Had it truly been months since she’d learned she was pregnant? She remembered telling her hubby with tears in her eyes that she’d been graced with such a bountiful blessing. She’d thanked Zaklina for the gift, and she’d suggest a little token to show her appreciation for the group who had made it all happen.

She could just see the top of the DynaMech logo tattoo, its design and placement meaning that it merely grew and bent as her pregnancy progressed, rather than distort. They’d been together at several formal occasions, always wearing something to show off her branded tummy. An one incredible advertisement for the company’s research! And why not? Without DynaMech, none of this would be possible! Zaklina had received the cock that gave them both so much happiness. Not to mention the food they eat, the clothes they wear, and the beautiful home they shared.

And the changes hadn’t stopped at her belly, as demonstrated by the pressure she felt in her breasts. Pregnancy had given her all kinds of benefits. For one, she’d gained pounds in all the right places. Her tits had swelled, first in size, then with an overabundance of milk. Then her ass blossomed, making anything but the most generous of skirts to leave nothing to the imagination. Her hips were so big, in fact, that she’d upgraded her legs to sport thicker, more proportionate thighs to match. She still wore heels, though Zaklina was kind enough to let her wear more modest ones for the duration of the pregnancy. Even still, her feet were sore...she wanted to just lie down and spend some quality time with her husband...

“I wish she was home already,” Annie mumbled, her hand going to the special plug that she kept in her rear. Pregnancy had made certain kinds of sex difficult to handle, but for some reason she’d become a total anal fiend in the last few months. Luckily, her husband had come through again with a special plug to keep her hole filled all day.

But still...

She leaned against the oven, its gently warm exterior feeling slightly inviting. With curious fingers she began to tug at the plug, pushing it in and out with frustrated fingers.

“Ngh...” she moaned. If only her hubby were here to help her with her needs...if only...

***

Zaklina Krole stepped off the taxi drone with a weariness in her step. Another long day at the office as DynaMech’s second in command. It was a decent job, paid well, and had incredible benefits. One of which loomed ahead of her in a kind of timelost splendour. The verdant, featureless lawn, the inviting little fence surrounding it. And an enormous home, pulled from someone’s fading memory, transplanted into a nature preserve as if by sheer force of will. It was a purposeful anachronism. A message stamped out of time for what world Zaklina wished to be the master of.

Yes, it really did make it all worth while.

She threw her suit jacket over her shoulder and made the tech on aching feet to the front door. There was no need to lock the door of course, an entire legion of security made sure nobody got close to this part of the world without vetting. She turned the brass knob and let herself into the modest foyer that acted like a spoke for the halls to the rest of the house. One of these was a straight line of sight to the kitchen, where her wife was in the process of doing something very unwholesome. Not at all keeping with her outward aesthetic of the submissive housewife...but appreciated by Zaklina nonetheless.

She was so fucking gorgeous, looking swollen and filled like that, the company’s branding tattooed onto her bulging belly. To have turned the muscular, powerful bodyguard into this soft, servile thing, it was better than crushing a competitor’s spirit. Better than a dinner in the ashes of a rival’s home town. It was control on a fundamental, existential level, and she shot it up like a drug every evening.

“Getting a little worked up, are we?” she asked, her voice causing Annie to nearly leap off her heeled feet. Spinning around, shamefacedly pushing her rear against the warm glass front, she did her best to look like she hadn’t just been playing with her ass.

“Oh! Zaklina dear! When did you get home?”

Her partner smiled. Rather than dragging out the teasing, she crossed the distance separating them with a confident stride, capturing her wife in an embrace that turned into a dip. Kissing her deeply, they enjoyed of Annie’s modifications. Zaklina’s tongue met those luxurious lips, tasting minty breath on her perfect teeth and the sweetness of her cherry flavoured lipgloss. When she withdrew from the kiss, Annie’s drooling mouth hung open, and she looked for all the world like the open orifice of a sex toy.

“Just a moment ago. Were you distracted again?” she asked, her hand sliding down to the plug trapped between her cheeks.

Annie blushed. “I just missed you, sweetie. I missed your cock...”

Zaklina laughed, but didn’t tease her further. She pressed the ‘OFF’ button on the oven, took her wife by the hand, and led her to the bedroom. Along the way, they passed many of the rooms in their house. Though large, it had been built to exacting specifications to resemble the height of suburban opulence before the Whiteout. Along with all the comforts of a modern home of course.

To the enormous four poster bed, she let her wife rest on all fours. Though she preferred taking her missionary position, as a proper husband ought to, she did get some perverse thrill fucking her from behind like that. She’d even had an oak vanity pulled from some abandoned mansion in what was left of Florida relocated here, the furniture of a dead oligarch appointing her lovely little home and aiming a mirror directly toward the bed. This way, she could see Annie’s facial expressions when she fucked her. And, more importantly...

“Relax dear,” Zaklina said, wrapping her fingers around the base of the plug locked in her wife’s ass. Gently, she worked it loose, allowing the woman enough time to adjust herself. The plug was enormous, but it had to be, as it was no mere orifice-straining ornament. She pressed a button, and it opened like a blooming flower. Each little sliver contained a single chip in an alcove, backed with a light of either red or green. She found the one she wanted, a green chip, and removed it from its alcove. From her position, it was a simple matter to slot it into the port on Annie’s neck. But control didn’t return to the bodyguard...not entirely, at least.

The team that had made the chips had found a way to blend two of the artificial personalities together. So one could have a ‘cheerleader maid’ or a ‘secretary whore’, for a modest increase in the subscription cost of course. She called it a dimmer switch, and it was something she liked playing with when it came to Ann and Annie. Breaking Ann was fun, of course, but merging the two together to make one bleed into the other, now that was truly deviant. So she set Ann to 80%, with only a 20% of Annie, and turned control over to the chip.

Ann snapped back to herself. In a single glance, she saw the extent of the transformation that had warped her body. Her exaggerated feminine features, a massive impregnated belly…

“Oh my god,” she gasped, “What have you done to me?”

“Only what you deserve, dear.” She said, leaning over to rub her wife’s bloated, tattooed tummy. “The triplets are due any day now. You’ll be a Mommy soon.”

“That’s…that’s not…” she began, but her denial fell like dead leaves from her lips as the repercussions of what she was seeing took hold. As she inspected her absurdly proportioned form, eyes gliding over her enormous breasts, her widened hips, and the pathetically feminine limbs where her old combat augs used to be, her husband found something else to distract her. Something to keep her from doing something stupid...like fighting back.

A pair of fingers slid inside her now gaping ass, and immediately, the highly tuned sensorium of cybernetics that Annie took as a matter of course totally overwhelmed the original version. A savage overreaction and ineffectual clenching down fought with a deep, abiding craving to be fucked and filled.

“More of you bleeds out of your personality chip every time I plug you back in. How many more orgasms til Ann and Annie are one in the same?”

“Shut…shut the fuck up…” Ann hissed, closing her eyes and trying to focus on something, anything, besides the intrusion. It felt too good to reject, but it was not enough. It made her aware of a deep, impossible emptiness within her. A craving. One that had been deeply burned into the Annie personality, but was totally anathema to Ann. Or was it?

“You have more in common with her every day. Annie was just about to beg me to fuck her ass. Let’s see if you are going to do anything different.”

Zaklina was already stiff as a board, so fishing her cock out with one hand was an ordeal and a half. Nevertheless, she liked fucking her wife in her suit. It was like this was another part of her job. Ann began to crawl off the bed, but her hands and knees sank into the mattress. Her incredibly pregnant form made movement challenging in a way she was not prepared for. And, in addition, there wasn’t much fight in her.

“Be a good girl and hold still for me,” Zaklina said, and Ann obeyed. “In fact, look in the mirror. I want to see your pretty face.”

Ann obeyed, though there’d be no telling if she was doing it for her own reasons, or her Good Girl programming. Probably the latter, her husband acknowledged. But it didn’t hurt to fantasize about the big, strong bodyguard finding herself paralyzed and helpless with fear. A pair of hands placed upon her hips caused her to quiver.

“No matter what you do to me,” Ann said, her voice thready and meek, even as she delivered a commendable monologue, “You’ll lose. One day, someone younger and stronger than you will come along. And you’ll find you have no allies, no friends. And your corporate benefactors? The moment you aren’t useful…they’ll put you down.”

Zaklina leaned in to make sure there was no mishearing her next words. “Why would I need allies…when I have True Love?”

She jammed herself into Ann’s gaping hole, making the former bodyguard squeal with a mix of pain and cybernetically enhanced pleasure. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t a moral failing for her to enjoy getting buttfucked like the most shameless of whores, but she wouldn’t accept that. Despite being told that her body had literally been programmed to enjoy this treatment, she would feel this visceral joy of being pounded by the woman who had stolen her life, and the unadulterated shame of it would let more of Annie into her mind.

Zaklina pounded her wife for a while, Ann passively receiving the penetration with naught but noises and attempts to squeeze down around the intrusion. But like all her orifices, they’d been built for another’s pleasure, and the act only drove Zaklina’s synthetically grown cock further down the path to climax.

“How are you feeling, dear?”

“I’m feeling pretty fucking furious, sweetheart,” Ann replied. Her eyebrows shot up. She hadn’t meant to use that name. That was Annie, speaking through her. The sight of her two wives’ personalities blending once more was enough to get Zaklina close to popping, as was the tight hole she was stuffing her enormous length into. But she needed just a little bit more.

With her body perfectly in tune, she could detect when Ann was close to climax. She’d fucked her ass dozens of times, and knew that her wife was more than capable of cumming from anal stimulation alone. But Ann didn’t know that…yet. Zaklina helped Ann touch the edge of the peak of this shameful source of pleasure, then immediately halted her thrusts. Ann quivered, unable to do the one thing she wanted but so obviously desperate for more stimulation. Zaklina was close to popping too, but she could wait. She could always wait.

“A-are you finished?” Ann chided, caught between relief and frustration. A wonderful, intoxicating cocktail for her husband.

“No. And neither are you until you give me what I want.”

Second dragged on. Zaklina pressed her tip against Ann’s hole, then withdrew. Her pussy drooled uselessly down her legs, totally untouched.

“What do you want?” Ann asked bitterly.

“Why, I want to hear you beg for it, dear,” she replied in a chipper, almost sunny tone of voice. Like discussing a warm summer’s day.

Cursing. A frustrated groan.

“Fuck me,” Ann whispered.

“Hmm?” Zaklina asked, and then delivered a powerful spank to the enormous right asscheek before her. The noise echoed in the room, mingling with the squeal. “Speak up, gorgeous.”

“I said Fuck Me, damnit!”

Another spank. “Damnit’s not my name.”

“Zaklina!”

Spank.

“Miss Zaklina!”

Spank.

“Ahh...fuck...what do you-”

“Daddy.”

Silence. Another spank, leaving Ann’s flesh a glowing red. Zaklina also noticed a distinct glistening to her pussy.

“I want you to call me Daddy. You’ll be a Mommy soon, and so, I want you to call me Daddy.”

Shuddering, she turned her head, looked directly into Zaklina’s eyes, and said: “Fuck me, Daddy...”

“Of course, baby. Anything you want,” she purred, and got back to fucking. With her neural rig, she turned Ann’s personality expression down to a mere 5%, allowing Annie to almost fully assert herself. But she wanted the original version to feel what happened next before she unplugged her. It was the best part, after all.

“I’m close to finishing, darling.”

“Unnngh...oh god honey, so am I! I practically passed out for a little while!”

“Good girl. And where do you want me to cum? Use your words.”

Annie made a lurid sound that wouldn’t be out of place on the set of a porn vid. “Cum in my ass, Daddy!”

Zaklina grinned. She hadn’t told Annie to use that name, only Ann. The two were blending into one perfect, submissive little firecracker.

“Whatever my wife wants, she gets.”

Zaklina shoved herself deep into Annie’s hole three times, delivering a spank on the final thrust that made the obedient painslut beneath her climax almost on command. The subsequent tightening effect milked the last of Zaklina’s stamina, causing gushes of highly expensive semen to pump uselessly into her wife.

It took a moment for both orgasms to subside. Zaklina was the first to return from the mountain, pulling her fat cock from Annie’s squeezing hole. Cream drooled out of her onto the satin bedspread. Each droplet a small fortune; it would be a shame to let it go to waste.

“Oh honey,” Zaklina purred, pointing at the slowly forming puddle. “You’re making a mess on my lovely bedding. Be a good girl and clean it up, would you kindly?”

Annie obeyed the rules. She wobbled around on her hands and knees, pushed her pretty face to the mattress, and began to lick. She wouldn’t stop until every millilitre ended up in her belly. As she slurped up her meal like a dog, Zaklina played with the personality chip in her neck. Her wife didn’t even pause as the old personality slotted out, ignoring her husband as she continued with her oh so important task.

“Looks like another one’s nearly blended,” she said with a faint regret. She approached the buttplug, spun around to the empty slot, and slid it into its little alcove. A quick note to her plug and the backing light turned from green to red. She spun the interior carousel, seeing there were only seven or eight more green Ann’s left to ruin. She could make more copies, but facsimile syndrome would start to set in. She’d have to save the last one for a special occasion. A parody of Ann would be no fun to mould into a slut. She’d need every reluctant gasp. Every attempt at bargaining for her release. Every pathetic mewl as she came from having a cock shoved into her ass for the “first” time.

After all, she mused to herself, running her fingers through Annie’s luxurious hair, as someone had once told her…the details were everything.