Natalie hated going out.

Even before the Patriarchs’ rise, she’d always been more of an indoor girl. Safely ensconced in the glow of her monitors, green eyes flashing as her fingers danced in staccato clicks, the pale hacker was the mistress of her domain. There was no secret she couldn’t sniff out, no snare she couldn’t untangle, nothing that could touch her without her say-so.

Outside, it was different. Very different.

Especially these days.

Unfortunately, there was no getting around it. In New Detroit, a man out alone on a Friday night was just as suspicious as an unaccompanied woman. If Hugo was going to make the dead drop without incident, he would need cover from an appropriately feminine escort. Since Aki had vanished, that left only one option.

And right now, that option was really, really not feeling it.

Natalie chewed her thumbnail, hugging one slender leg as she reviewed the mission briefing. She was aware that she was procrastinating, but still—it didn’t hurt to double-check the route. This was not a delivery they could afford to miss.

The equipment on offer was an S-14 Neutralizer, the latest in anti-subliminal filters. Once installed, it would clean up all the feeds streaming into their safehouse, allowing them to monitor the media without being exposed to the Patriarchs’ hypnotic signals. The reprieve couldn’t come soon enough. The other day, Natalie had caught herself absently fellating a pen as she tracked the news. And Hugo…

…Hugo was starting to look at her strangely.

The thought drew a curling warmth up through the fidgeting hacker. She bit her lip, severing the feeling before it could blossom into anything dangerous.

It was so frustrating. They’d been careful, she and her comrades, but there was no way to completely escape the Sex Relations Improvement Act. The tendrils of its multi-pronged “health and wellness” program were everywhere. The food, the water, the airwaves, the net—all had become corrupted and twisted, drugged and sublimated, weaponized with the aim of restoring “traditional roles and values” to the nation. Which was to say: transforming all women into voluptuous, vapid bimbos, and all men into their virile, domineering owners.

Natalie and her crew did their best to mitigate the damage. They took their anti-chems and completed their de-programming exercises; they boiled their water and rationed their screen-time. Even so, it was a war of attrition they were losing, one IQ-point and cup-size at a time. Cells of their resistance movement had been folding across the country, with more and more women degenerating into ditzy dolls by the day. The New Detroit crew had endured longer than most, but they wouldn’t last the rest of the year without a major boost to their defenses.

There was no other option: Natalie needed to brave the streets and help Hugo retrieve that S-14. The survival of their cause was worth the discomfort.

Barely.

A notification popped up on one of her monitors: the operation would start soon. Lips quirked into a grimace, Natalie pushed away from her desk and hopped to her feet, landing before the faded doors of her bedroom closet. She slid the compartment open, revealing a line of wrinkled tees and a pile of threadbare sweats. Shoving her normal attire aside, she reached into the back of the narrow space, retrieving a shiny, pink catsuit and a pair of heeled boots to match.

The outfit was anathema to Natalie’s taste. But it was a necessary evil if she wanted to move through the city unnoticed. Though her body had changed since the SRIA’s launch, she was still a far cry from the jiggling giga-sluts that now made up the majority of the female population. Unlike them, her once-flat chest had only swollen into a modest pair of C-cups, their pert, pink points merely twice as sensitive as they once were. Likewise, her hips, ass, and thighs had put on a few supple pounds, but only enough to balance out the rest of her figure. In many ways, she still resembled a young woman from the pre-SRIA world, a fact that she took great pride in, despite it keeping her indoors most days.

Hence, the pink catsuit. Sighing, Natalie disrobed and slipped her bare legs into the gleaming latex, pausing to admire her relatively normal figure one last time before zipping the skintight garment up to her neck. The second she clasped it shut, the nanites within the fabric activated, ballooning around her curves to form a massive pair of dummy tits and a prominent posterior to match. She gave a test-wiggle, observing how her new, false form bounced and swayed just like the real thing. The sight made her cringe, though a quiet voice in her head noted that she didn’t completely hate it. She must’ve absorbed too much programming this week—that new filter couldn’t come soon enough.

Next came her makeup, the most intricate and dangerous part of the process. Mainstream beauty products were little more than bimbo toxin bombs these days—even after several rounds of dilution, the set at Natalie’s fingertips could still knock her reading comprehension down a grade or two if she wasn’t careful. The key was to apply sparingly and slowly, painting a mask just present enough to be noticeable without it being so thick as to smother her identity. It was a balance she’d become good at striking. Even so, all the caution in the world couldn’t prevent her lips from tingling beneath the sparkly layer of gloss, nor her eyelids from sinking slightly as the mascara reshaped her gaze. By the time the foundation and its chemical relaxants set in, her sour expression had softened into a placid, pretty pout, shining lips pursed and long lashes fluttering as she gazed into her own bimbofied reflection.

That left one last step: the wig. Natalie’s hair was certainly lighter than it used to be, but her choppy, strawberry blond undercut was still a far cry from a true bimbo do. There was a reason the end of the transformation was known as “going pink”: as a woman’s curves swelled and intellect dimmed, so too did her hair gradually morph, brightening into some variety of glossy pink. Seated before her vanity, Natalie couldn’t resist a disgusted sigh as she hid her sharp style beneath a bubblegum façade. She tossed the long, silky tresses from side to side, preening and shifting until they framed her freshly contoured features just right. Tilting her head and giving her best ditzy smile, she could almost believe that the woman staring back at her was as airheaded as she seemed.

Almost.

Her disguise complete, Natalie wobbled to her feet and exited the bedroom. She moved down the adjacent hall while practicing her bimbo walk, hips swaying and boobs bouncing with every step, her body slowly reacquainting itself with its new proportions. By the time she reached the bunker’s common area, she could’ve passed for a natural.

Perhaps that was why Ken nearly choked on his coffee as she entered his view.

“Wh-what?” he sputtered, wide eyes darting from her curves to her hair. “Who are—how did you…?”

The makeup prevented Natalie from full-on glaring. But she managed a disapproving squint.

“Oh.” Ken exhaled. “Nat. Jesus. Sorry. Guess I’m still not used to this.”

“That makes two of us,” Natalie muttered, seating herself on the frayed arm of their sofa. She wasn’t sure why his reaction bothered her so much. Ken couldn’t help the way he looked at her—the poor boy was struggling against the same insidious influences as the rest of them. In fact, the fight was probably even worse for him. At the tender, hormonal age of 18, he was not only the youngest freedom fighter in their group, but also the most susceptible to the SRIA’s programming. Viewed in that light, the fact that he’d merely gawked at her instead of leaping over the kitchen counter to pounce showed a great deal of restraint.

Did that disappoint her a little? Natalie swatted the stray thought away before it could stick. “Where’s Hugo?” she demanded.

“Uh.” Ken turned so he was no longer facing her, fingers rubbing his temples. “He went back to his room. Said it was just like a woman to keep a man waiting.” The boyish rebel flinched. “Sorry. Probably shouldn’t have said that last part.”

Natalie’s fake nails dug into her palms. It was the SRIA’s fault, she reminded herself. That was the source of the casual misogyny—not Hugo. “It’s fine. I’ll go grab him.”

“Y-you sure? I don’t mind if…”

“I said it’s fine,” the faux bimbo snapped, already sashaying towards the fluorescent-lit hall. Clearly, Hugo was getting sloppy with his de-programming exercises, a lapse in discipline that required swift, stern correction. That was why Natalie felt she needed to talk to him right away. There was no other reason—just the maintenance of team discipline, she told herself.

“Hugo?” Her fist tapped on the dented metal door, only for it to swing open. “You didn’t even close the door? What is with you—oh.”

The smell hit her first, halting her in place. A powerful, masculine scent, earthy and inviting, dripping with the alluring tang of sweat. The air was foggy and dark, the silver glow of a monitor revealing nothing but the vague suggestion of a man’s bedroom. Still, Natalie’s wide eyes recognized the muscular form on the mattress, one tree-trunk arm pumping in urgent rhythm, offering glimpses of the meaty, rigid cock it was pleasuring.

“Uhm…” The faux bimbo gaped dumbly. She’d come in here to say something. What was that again?

“Huh?” The figure suddenly straightened. “Shit! Close the door!”

The shout snapped Natalie back to reality. She retreated with a jolt, slamming the door in her own face. The impact seemed to reverberate through her, breaking the haze in her head as she blinked in the buzzing light.

“Everything okay?” Ken’s voice tip-toed down the hall.

“F-fine!” Natalie barked back. “Go help Zander upstairs.”

There was a pause, a sigh, then the sound of boots tromping up the ladder, leaving the hidden bunker for the storefront above. In the next moment, the entrance to Hugo’s room swung open, the tan, towering freedom fighter now fully clothed as he ducked beneath the low doorframe.

Natalie fixed him with as pointed a stare as she could manage. “Really? You couldn’t have waited until after the mission?”

He shrugged. “You were taking forever. Figured I might as well do some extra prep of my own.”

“Oh, is that what it’s called now?”

“Don’t give me that. You know how it is. If I don’t…keep the urges down, they start to mess with my head.”

“Clearly. Might explain why you’ve been letting things slip around Ken. And why you forgot to lock your door.” She crossed her arms. “Face it, Hugo, you’re getting sloppy.”

“You…” He took a step forward, nostrils flaring as he bore down on her. Natalie tensed, swallowing the rest of her lecture, heart racing as her breath thinned into a strained, high whisper.

Then, as soon as the threat arose, it dissipated. Hugo’s hard eyes softened, his face falling with remorse as he moved away and ran a hand through his dark, messy hair. “Sorry,” he said, pulling the thick strands into a loose knot. “I’ve been losing sleep lately. Guess it’s making me careless.”

Natalie exhaled a shuddering breath. She was relieved to see him relent—so relieved, in fact, that she suddenly had the impulse to sidle up to the repentant giant, rest her head against that broad chest of his, and trace a finger down the taut fabric of his shirt, murmuring sweet assurances that she would do whatever it took to make him feel better and…

She shook her head, forcing herself back another two steps. “That’s no excuse. We can’t risk any cracks in protocol. Our enemy never tires, never falters—we can’t afford to either.”

Hugo nodded glumly, the guilt in his gaze almost enough to pull an apology from her lips.

The hacker looked away, grimacing. Why was she always like this? Why couldn’t she just accept his apology without getting one last kick in? She had nothing against Hugo—in fact, she’d always been quite fond of him. Why then, couldn’t she help shutting him down?

Because it was necessary, she reminded herself. She had to be a cold, defiant display of feminine strength, even if it meant being kind of a bitch sometimes. As the last female holdout in their cell, she was the only one who could remind them that women weren’t just obedient sex-objects, that they still deserved respect, admiration, and deference. Otherwise, the prevailing attitudes of the Patriarchs would slowly poison the men’s brains, until they too began seeing her as their rightful property, a hot piece of ass to use however they liked. If their demeanors took that turn, there would be little she could do to stop them. Thanks to the SRIA, their bodies had already begun tightening and hardening into those of apex predators, cocks growing and aching with a near-constant lust for conquest. All it would take was a single slip-up on her part, and she would have three ravenous, insatiable animals upon her, pinning her soft, weak body down as they—

“Uh, Nat?” Hugo’s brow furrowed with concern. “Are you…drooling?”

“Huh?” Natalie started, hurriedly wiping the corner of her mouth. “Shit. Must’ve put on too much lip gloss. Makes everything a little numb, y’know?”

“Right…” Her partner agreed unconvincingly. “Hey, are you sure you’re okay to…I mean, should we maybe reconsider…”

She silenced him with a wave of her hand. “Not an option. This just proves how badly we need that filter. We can’t afford to go on like this.”

Hugo sighed and threw on his jacket. “You’re right,” he said, rolling his neck before slamming a fist into his palm. “Alright. Let’s get to work.”

The first step was always the trickiest.

Natalie tottered out the employee exit, the wet asphalt of the alley nearly slipping from under her heels. She placed a hand on the wall for balance, spine tingling as her fingers brushed the rough, damp surface, the scent of rain wafting beneath her nose. Already she was feeling disoriented, exposed. Gone were the smooth, malleable interfaces of the digital world, leaving her vulnerable to the physical realm and all of its frictions. Noise from the nearby streets tumbled all around her, engines and laughter and echoes of song, as smeared and indistinct as the light splattered across the shadows. After months spent underground, the sensory invasion was overwhelming, bearing down on the wobbling hacker as she struggled to stand.

Fortunately, her companion soon stepped beside her, firm hands helping her balance. “You good?” he asked.

“Yes.” She took a breath, letting Hugo’s touch warm her, ground her. Then, avoiding his eyes, she moved his hand to her side, wrapping her own arm in his. “Let’s go.”

Together, the two of them set off, the darkness of the alley parting like a curtain as they stepped onto the street proper. Instantly, the dull hum that had enveloped Natalie became a roar, a storm of sight and sound as signs flashed and cars honked, bodies passing and drones flying in every direction. Instinctively, her grip on her escort tightened, her fake bust squishing against the hard contours of his bicep. She tried not to be pleased when she felt him tense as well.

Their route was an elliptical one, part random and part planned, intended to obscure both origin and destination. With every block walked, the sense of chaos gradually subsided, the city and its rhythms becoming more familiar by the moment. As the spinning in her head ceased and the legibility of her surroundings returned, Natalie lifted her gaze from the sidewalk, hoping to reacquaint herself with the city she called home.

What she saw made her stomach clench.

For a while now, Natalie had feared that the Patriarchs were close to victory. There were simply too many signs, too many dismal datapoints for her to deny it. Yet behind her screens, it had been easy to rationalize and doubt, to label disturbing news as propaganda and insist that even as the formal resistance movement died, there were still plenty of hearts and minds ready to take up the fight.

This fragile hope was all but obliterated by what she saw now. The streets were positively radiant with excitement and energy, the atmosphere not far from that of a festival, despite it being an otherwise unremarkable Friday. Gaggles of bimbos bounced down the sidewalks, giggling and flirting as their men led them into bustling shopping centers and bars. Some of the women were dressed in the traditional manner, tits straining their tawdry tube tops as neon thongs peeked out from their cut-off shorts. Others exhibited a more high-class escort look, hips rolling elegantly beneath dresses of fine silk, their glittering jewelry almost enough to distract from the plunging necklines and thigh high slits. Lace, latex, lingerie—every color of the bimbo rainbow was out on display, united only by their ridiculous curves and equally absurd smiles.

Natalie’s cataloging was interrupted as Hugo jerked to a stop, throwing the faux bimbo off-balance. She turned, incensed, only to notice that her escort was staring somewhere in the distance, his face rigid with shock.

“Is that her?” he breathed.

The question punched the air from Natalie’s lungs, her eyes darting to where Hugo was looking. In the line for a nearby club, a woman of Asian descent was teasing her man, guiding his hand over her top to the visible nub of her nipple. She let out a small giggle, biting her lip as her hips shifted and skirt swished. Her face was alluring, doll-like and smooth, with large eyes and a small, playful mouth. But…

“It’s not Aki,” Natalie decided.

Hugo wavered. “Are you sure? With all the changes and everything, maybe…”

“It’s not.” She shot him a dubious look. “Even if it was, what would you do? The girl’s clearly too far gone.”

“I…” The handsome giant’s features went slack with defeat. “I don’t know…”

“We’re wasting time. Let’s keep moving.” The faux bimbo tugged him along, his gaze lingering on the mysterious vixen until she vanished from view. Natalie tried to swallow her disgust, and felt an angry barb stick in her throat.

She should’ve known this would happen. Ever since Aki’s disappearance, Hugo couldn’t make a grocery run without seeing phantoms of her everywhere. The two of them had been close—intimate, even—before she’d vanished after a botched factory bombing. Almost a year had passed since they’d lost contact with her, and still Hugo hadn’t given up on seeing her again. It was a hopeless case, as far as Natalie was concerned; even if Aki did return, chances were she wouldn’t be the same fierce rebel leader they once knew.

Why, then, did Hugo remain so fixated on her?

The question burned in the back of the hacker’s brain, warming her face as she and her escort continued their journey. Was Aki really ever that great? Sure, she was charismatic. And attractive. And way better at dealing with people than Natalie ever was. There was just something about the raven-haired beauty, a way she could look at you and make you feel like you were the only other person in the world. When they’d first met, Natalie had felt special, thinking those eyes were meant just for her. Then she learned it was more like an aura Aki couldn’t switch off, a shining beacon for ships lost in stormy waters, drawing them far and wide into her harbor. When Natalie recognized this, it felt like she’d glimpsed a beautiful dream she could never actually inhabit. It was too dazzling. Too pure. And…and…

It just wasn’t fair.

Natalie’s jaw clenched, a faint bitterness crawling on her tongue. Even now, almost a year after their guiding light had disappeared, Hugo still clung desperately to the afterglow. Why? Why was he so determined to torture himself looking back, when everything he needed was right in front of him? He still had his friends. He still had his mission. And he still had…still had…

“It’s strange,” he murmured.

“Huh?” Natalie looked up from her dour thoughts.

“I still remember when this…” He gestured vaguely. “Seemed so weird and scary. But now…it almost feels…” His voice trailed off before the sentence could finish.

It didn’t matter—Natalie knew exactly what he meant. In the immediate aftermath of the SRIA, traveling the city had made her feel like a scared rat, scrambling for safety while threats closed in from all sides. Now, minus her initial disorientation, she found it almost easy to fall into the flow of the streets, the dystopic atmosphere seeming less like a blaring alarm, and more like a slightly annoying hum she could tune out at will. In the course of her and Hugo’s conversation, a full squad of government-issued comfort bimbos had walked by, white uniforms shining in the lights of their escort drones, and Natalie’s only thought had been to shift slightly and allow them to pass. She had no idea where they were going, and chances were neither did they. Even so, they marched without a trace of hesitation, a blank look of contentment on all their faces, as though the city were merely a pleasant reverie they were drifting through. How easy it would be, Natalie thought, to just yield to that invisible pull, that subliminal siren’s call leaking from every speaker and screen, urging her to join the march of the dull-eyed dreamers, and abandon the pain of the waking world.

“That’s a dangerous line of thought,” she muttered. “Don’t bring it up again.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Hugo sighed. “You’re a real hard-ass sometimes, Nat.”

“Someone has to be.” The faux bimbo exhaled, forcing a smile. “Now get your game face on. We’re almost there.”

As they reached the end of the avenue, the towers of glass gave way to a wide park of manicured lawns and stone paths. Couples milled about under warm lamplight, laughing and pawing at each other as vendors and their voluptuous booth babes hawked fried foods and cold drinks. Soon, the synthetic cherry blossoms would begin their nightly bloom, a popular attraction for couples who still bothered to go on dates. The Friday crowd would serve as perfect cover—dense enough to obscure the rebels’ presence, but not so chaotic as to jeopardize their route.

“Looks like we got here just in time,” Natalie murmured. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Hugo rolled his heavy shoulders with a grunt, disguising a quick scan of their surroundings before leading the pair of them towards the public restrooms.

The squat concrete building was the location of their drop. Natalie gave Hugo’s arm an encouraging squeeze, sharing one last look before watching him disappear inside. Assuming it hadn’t been discovered, the S-14 filter would be waiting behind a loose brick in one of the men’s stalls. While he went to retrieve it, his escort lingered outside, wearing her best empty-headed expression as she kept a lookout for any trouble. She didn’t anticipate much difficulty—the worst they’d encountered before was a couple of bored bimbos who’d been a little too enthusiastic about “commiserating” while waiting for their respective owners to return.

It would be fine, Natalie told herself. They’d run this play before, and it always went off without a hitch.

Surely, this time would be no different.

The Handler looked up as the transport’s engine rumbled to a stop. Above his seat, slants of moonlight fell from the narrow windows, the muted sounds of music and laughter audible through the thick armor plating. He sighed, resting his head back against the cool metal. Technically, protocol dictated he begin the search immediately. But as his gaze flicked to the glassy-eyed woman beneath him, saliva dripping down her chin as his dark cock plunged between her lips, he decided to let Hound H62 finish her reward.

He was a kind Handler, after all.

With a wet gasp, H62’s mouth popped free, pre-cum dribbling from her tongue as a mini-orgasm shivered through her. Her soft flesh strained the pink bands strapped across it, the only clothing a Hound was permitted to wear, not so much a uniform as a harness meant to keep her horny, heated body in check. Though, of course, the collar around her neck was a more effective tool of discipline, its sleek metal the same impenetrable black as the glove currently stroking her cheek. With a smile, the Handler cupped H62’s chin, guiding her back to her task and sighing as her head bobbed with renewed fervor and excitement.

A chorus of moans soon joined hers. The Handler looked towards the neighboring bench, just in time to see B88’s face nuzzle between C10’s thighs, the wide eyes of A44 watching with interest. Apparently, H62’s fun had been a little too inspiring for her packmates. A violation of their orders, technically, but the Handler decided to let it slide. His Hounds wouldn’t make each other cum without permission, and he was curious to see if having them on edge would improve their efficiency. Besides, he was enjoying himself too much to care.

A soft grunt escaped his mouth, an involuntary utterance as the tension inside him climbed. Well-trained as she was, H62 seemed to sense his approach, her lips plunging to the base of his cock as her warm throat welcomed his arrival. He came immediately, eyes closed and breath shuddering, the release of his heightened sex-drive leading to a moment of pure bliss. Returning to reality, he noticed H62 was now sprawled on the floor, tongue lolling as she panted and twitched with orgasmic delight. Nearby, C10 was beginning to squeal, hands gripping B88’s messy bob as the chubby slut’s oral enthusiasm nearly pushed her over the edge. A44, meanwhile, had snuck down to H62’s side, long legs folded beneath her as she lapped the glistening splatter from her cum-atose packmate’s chin.

“Hey, down girl!” The Handler pointed an accusing black finger, the light on A44’s color blinking yellow in response. She stiffened, then backed off from the still-shivering H62 with a low, pathetic whine.

“Quite the sneaky one, aren’t you?” The Handler frowned, finger curling inward as he beckoned the offending Hound towards him. She obeyed, face lowered and meek, crawling to his side and kneeling at his feet, the tug of her invisible leash lifting the collar slightly from her elegant neck.

Her Master crossed his arms, the light on her throat winking out. “You know better than to take what isn’t yours. Are you going to be good tonight? Or should I leave you behind?”

“No, Master,” she answered demurely. “I’ll be good, Master. I’m sorry.”

“How sorry?”

“Really sorry.” She lifted her gaze, large, dark eyes pleading. “Like, um, super, duper sorry.”

The Handler paused, then chuckled. The bitch really was sly—she knew he couldn’t resist that puppy-dog look of hers. “Very well,” he conceded, chin dipping to indicate the softening erection spilling from his boxers. “You know what to do.”

A44 pouted, lips quivering with an adorable whimper. It would be exquisite torture for her, handling his cock only for the purpose of re-sheathing it. Still, he knew the masochistic brat would enjoy it, in her own twisted way. Indeed, as her trembling fingers grazed his ebony flesh, her breath quickened into a high, hoarse whisper, her flushed body seeming on the verge of its own orgasm by the time she tucked him back into place.

“Good girl,” the Handler murmured, patting her head. She bowed, leaking a guttural moan onto his boots as he turned his attention to her packmates. With a flick of his hand, the lights on C10’s and B88’s necks turned yellow, the former gasping as the latter was forcibly pulled from her sex.

“That’s enough you two,” the Handler chided, rising to his feet. “Everyone in formation. Now.”

Slowly, and with a good deal of dripping and giggling, the Hounds obediently shuffled into place. The Handler buckled his belt and re-clasped the buttons on his coat, performing a quick dress inspection in the process. He was pleased by the result: even delirious with heat, H62 hadn’t allowed a single drop to stain the whites of his uniform. She was such a good girl. As he stepped past her place in line, he allowed himself an affectionate ruffle of her wavy hair before advancing towards the transport’s exit.

The metal ramp lowered with a whir, just as the Handler fixed his peaked officer’s cap atop his head. “Alright girls,” he said, tugging the brim into place. “Let’s get to work.”

For all the bitterness Natalie held toward the world, even she couldn’t help but enjoy the nightly blooming of the cherry blossoms.

The show began at the far end of the park, at such a distance as to only register as a small puff of color in her vision. Then, one by one, the rows of trees began to unfold, branches swaying as their buds sprang to life, a cascade of pink fire racing towards the amazed hacker, cheers rising like joyful embers in its wake. An eruption of applause broke out when the final flowers bloomed and, as if in reply, a storm of petals suddenly burst into the air, swirling and whirling on the warm spring breeze.

On some level, Natalie knew that it was all a sham—a trick of engineering rather than a gift of nature. Even so, her heart couldn’t help but feel a little lighter as a rose cloud spun around her feet, twirling with excitement before rising into the moonlit sky. So enraptured was she with the display, she almost didn’t notice…

…The woman in a pink harness wandering nearby.

A current of fear leapt through Natalie’s body. She faced forward, forcing her breath to slow, trying to appear blank and disinterested while keeping the wavy-haired woman in view. From this distance, the disguised radical could just make out the barcode tattooed above the busty ditz’s mound, a mark of ownership framed perfectly by the tight straps crisscrossing her voluptuous body.

There was no doubt about it: this woman was a Hound.

Natalie should’ve seen this coming. For a while now, rumors had been spreading about hunting parties made up of female ex-rebels, all reeducated and retrained to flush their former comrades out of hiding. Known as the Hounds, these specialized squads were a new arm of the SRIA’s compliance force, a pilot program whose origin, ironically enough, lay in the very anti-brainwashing defenses the rebellion had perfected.

From the moment they joined, every freedom fighter received extensive mental fortitude training, a series of exercises and techniques drilled to the point of second nature. Consequently, when captured and subjected to rapid bimbofication, a rebel’s mind automatically resisted as long as it could, creating intense friction that burned far more brain cells than normal. By the time the transformation finished, the former radical was not only dumber than the average bimbo, but also useless as a source of intel. It was a tragic fate, but necessary, as it prevented them from causing further damage to the rebellion. Or so its leaders had thought.

Unfortunately, it now seemed the Patriarchs had found a workaround. At some point in the past few months, they’d discovered that just because a bimbofied radical could no longer spell feminism didn’t mean that she’d lost all traces of her pre-conversion mind. In fact, it seemed that most ex-rebels could still recognize aspects of their former life, if only on a subconscious level. They might not know why they felt drawn towards hidden safehouses and undercover agents, but that didn’t matter—all they had to do was lead their Handler to a place or person of interest, and he would do the rest.

As Natalie watched the approaching Hound, the dull-eyed bimbo suddenly stopped, pausing for a moment before wandering off in another direction, hips lazily swaying from side to side. The disguised radical waited a beat, then exhaled, closing her eyes and running a brief mental search on every female comrade she’d ever worked with. As far as she could remember, none were a match for the brainwashed traitor she’d just spotted. Whoever that woman was, she definitely hadn’t been a part of the local cell. With any luck, her movements would do little more than distract her Handler, allowing Natalie and Hugo to slip away without notice.

A minute passed, and still the Hound hadn’t returned. Holding her breath, Natalie risked a glance towards where the wavy-haired woman had departed, only to discover that she was nowhere to be seen. The hacker suppressed a sigh of relief. The coast was clear, and Hugo would return soon. Just a few more seconds, and they’d be home free.

But…

Something was strange.

Though the Hound was well and truly gone, a prickling tension still crawled down Natalie’s neck. Somewhere, someone was watching her. Swallowing her anxiety, the disguised rebel feigned interest in a passing swirl of blossoms, cloaking her desperate search for the mystery voyeur.

Then she saw her.

It was like watching a dream slowly twist into a nightmare. As the petals parted like a curtain, another Hound materialized into view, standing stock still atop a grassy slope. She stared at Natalie with dim curiosity, head titled slightly, a finger perched on her lips and the barest notch of thought furrowing her brow. The sight made Natalie’s breath freeze. Despite those ridiculous pink pigtails and equally ludicrous curves, there was no doubt who this brainwashed bimbo had once been.

It was Aki. Aki had been turned into a Hound.

“We’re good to go,” Hugo announced, patting his coat pocket as he emerged from the restroom. “You wanna stay for a sec and watch the blossoms or—mmph!”

Natalie’s body moved before she could think, leaping onto Hugo and pushing him beneath a nearby alcove as she sealed his lips with a kiss. Both bodies tensed with shock, mouths parting briefly before reuniting with growing intensity. The faux bimbo moaned as manly hands grasped her hips, pulling her closer until she could feel a stiff, warm bulge straining against her leg. Distantly, she wondered if the Hound was still watching, but that worry soon dissolved beneath the heat of her partner’s tongue, his taste filling her mouth and mind until it was all she could think about.

She wanted him. Badly. Worse than anything she’d wanted before. From the crown of her head to the curling of her toes, every nerve Natalie possessed was alight with arousal, sparking and tingling beneath her flesh. But it wasn’t enough—she was a starving exile scenting bread, a prisoner chasing sunlight through the crack in her cell. Her trembling fingers clawed at Hugo, eventually seizing upon the collar of his coat and yanking the zipper down. He let out sound of muffled surprise, staggering slightly as she threw the garment open, her needy body desperate to meld with his, to feel his pulse thrumming inside her, heedless of what it might cost them to…

A thin metal square toppled from his pocket and clattered noisily on the ground.

“Shit!” Hugo pulled himself back, reeling for a moment before scrambling to recover the S-14 at his feet. “Fuck! Goddamit! Are you crazy, Nat? What the hell was that?”

The faux bimbo barely heard the question. Her head swam in a glittery fog, the sensations of her transgression still swirling inside her. She touched her lips, savoring the traces of Hugo’s heat, her hot cunt smoldering with deferred desire.

“Nat?” Hugo repeated. “Hey!” He clapped in her face. “Wake up!”

The sound pierced the pink reverie, allowing cold reality to come rushing back. “Whoa…” A wobbly step, thighs still sticky and shaky. “What…jus’happened?” Natalie slurred.

“You tell me,” Hugo demanded. “The second I walked out of the bathroom, you pounced on me like some kinda animal and—”

“The Hound!” Natalie exclaimed, whirling to where the bimbofied Aki had once stood. But the space was now empty—nothing but a listless carpet of cherry blossoms, and the memory of large, familiar eyes staring into hers.

“Hound?” Hugo repeated, fear quickly replacing irritation. “Where?”

“She, um. She’s gone now. But she was here just a second ago. That’s why I…y’know...did what I did. To hide our faces.”

Hugo nodded, but his expression remained wary. “Did the Hound look…familiar?”

Natalie bit her lip.

Then shook her head.

The muscular rebel exhaled. “Well, that’s good news at least. Now let’s get out of here before more show up. I dunno who else they got on the leash, and I don’t wanna find out.”

The Handler stood beneath a newly blossomed tree, enjoying the spring air as he monitored his pets’ progress. A holographic map hovered over the palm of his glove, tracking each Hound as they moved through the park. Most of them were behaving as normal, wandering in whatever direction their distractible minds pointed. But A44…

A44 had gone straight for the public restrooms. And, upon arriving, she’d immediately halted in place, not moving an inch for almost five minutes. Intrigued, the Handler keyed into her collar feed, summoning a live video stream of her surroundings. What he saw was another woman in a tight pink catsuit, her face briefly visible before she turned and kissed the hulking man behind her, pushing them both out of sight. After a moment of hesitation, A44 appeared to lose interest, the view from her collar swiveling as she drifted away in search of more interesting stimuli.

The Handler cut the feed, stroking his chin in thought. He considered ordering A44 to go back and find the mystery couple, then decided against it. If the pair of them were rebels—and not just random citizens the Hound had become smitten with—then it was better for them to think that they’d managed to evade his notice. If he was lucky, they would be on their way back to their safehouse soon, leaving a trail that he and his pack would soon follow.

After waiting a couple minutes for any further developments, the Handler pinched his fingers closed, dismissing the map and calling his pets to heel. Gradually, they came into view, kneeling one on by one in an obedient, adoring semi-circle around their owner.

“Well, then.” The Handler surveyed his audience. “Let’s start with H62. What did you see?”

“Um…” She thought for a moment, twirling a lock of pink hair. “There was, like, music and dancing and stuff. It looked, um, like, really fun.”

Handler nodded, then gestured to C10.

“We saw fucking!” the bubbly bimbo exclaimed. “It was sooooo hot. B88 said she wanted to play too, but I said no cuz Master would get mad.”

The Handler arched an eyebrow. “Is this true, B88?”

The chubby Hound looked at the ground and nodded.

“But you listened to C10, didn’t you?”

She nodded again.

“Good girls.” The Handler smiled as both Hounds swooned in unison. “Lastly, A44. Did you find anything interesting?”

A44’s lips curved into a puzzled frown. “Maybe? I...dunno…”

“What do you mean?” the Handler pressed.

She sighed, fingers sliding down her belly to begin absently stroking her pussy, a trained reflex for whenever a Hound’s brain was in danger of overheating. ““It was…like…weird. I didn’t have to go to potty, but like…I still felt like I had to find it, y’know? And there was this girl…she was so pretty and, um, I couldn’t stop, like, looking at her and…uh…I dunno. It was, like…uhhhh...ohh…”

The moaning Hound spread her legs further, exposing flushed lips slick with need. Her packmates leaned closer, B88’s mouth already open and overflowing with anticipation. The Handler strode past the salivating spectator, cupping A44’s face and gently stroking her cheek.

“Good girl,” he cooed. “You did very good today.”

“Yay…” She giggled, nuzzling his palm. “Did…good…”

“Indeed.” He drew his hand away, summoning a recording of A44’s collar feed and sending it to the drones hovering nearby. “We’ve got a live one tonight, girls. I need everyone in formation to—” Something grazed his inner thigh. He stiffened, then looked down to see A44’s hands on his leg, her glazed eyes staring at the tent in his trousers.

“Did…good…” the lust drunk Hound mumbled. “Get…treat…”

The Handler’s eyes narrowed. “Down, A44. We have work to do—you’ll get your reward later.”

“But…” Her wet cunt pressed against the ankle of his boot, kissing the polished leather as she reached up towards his cock. “Want…now…”

Her fingers grazed the tip of his erection.

The Handler’s expression darkened. His gloved hand closed and turned, as if seizing and yanking an invisible tether. The light on A44’s collar blinked red, the band tightening and rising at once, pulling the disobedient Hound up with it. She gasped, hands flying to her throat as the taut restraint lifted her onto her feet, forcing her to stand on her tiptoes before halting at last.

The Handler waved a disapproving finger. ““Bad girl. You know better than that.”

The Hound’s eyes flicked to her owner, then fluttered and began to roll back, face reddening as a strained whine escaped her panting mouth. Arousal gushed from her quivering cunt, trickling down legs shaking and straining to keep balance, as though walking a tightrope between excruciation and ecstasy. Her packmates crawled closer to the keening display, smiling with excited eyes, ready to sweeten her torture if commanded.

Unluckily for them, time was of the essence. With a sigh, the Handler flattened his hand, releasing A44 from her punishment. She fell on all fours, sputtering and coughing, echoes of pain and pleasure trembling in her whimpers.

The Handler watched with a thoughtful frown. She’d been uppity this evening, moreso than usual. Perhaps he’d indulged her too much on the transport. Or maybe this was a consequence of her old, rebellious personality. The really resistant ones did seem to develop a taste for punishment. Something for the boys in processing to look into, he supposed.

Clearing his throat, the Handler crouched beside the pitiful creature. “You do not touch unless commanded,” he admonished her. “Understand?”

Still shivering, she managed the smallest, meekest of nods.

“Good.” He patted her head before standing. “Don’t worry. You’ll still get your reward. And, if we’re lucky, some new friends to share it with.”

Ken made a quick count of the floggers still on display, typing the number into the inventory list projected from his wrist-com. He moved to the next shelf and began sorting the scattered varieties of lube, pausing as he heard the door open behind him.

“We’re closed,” he said, not bothering to look up from his work.

A feminine giggle was the only response he got. Suppressing a sigh, he turned away from his task, readying himself to shoo away whatever stray bimbo had wandered in. “Miss,” he began, trying to make his voice as deep and authoritative as possible. “I said we’re cl—”

The rest of his sentence died in his throat. Standing before him was not some random slut off the street, but an officer of the Patriarchs in full uniform, trailed by four ditzes with the biggest tits and dumbest smiles Ken had ever seen. He took an involuntary step back, gawking and struggling to figure out where to look, his darting gaze finally captured by the officer’s icy blue stare.

“Sorry to trouble you afterhours,” the uniformed man said, casually advancing into the store. “But I’m afraid my business here can’t wait. Don’t worry, it won’t take long. Provided you cooperate, that is,” he added with a smile.

“Uh…” Ken continued his slow retreat, trying to think as his brain spun in panicked circles. The collared bimbos had fanned out across the aisles, a pair of them gradually flanking him from either side. He swallowed, fighting his instincts as dual scents of sweet perfume and wet arousal flooded his nostrils. God, what he wouldn’t give to be sandwiched between the approaching duo, his face buried between the chubby girl’s pillowy thighs as…

Ken bumped into the counter, jolting himself from his trance. He stumbled, only for Zander’s steadying hand to catch him, the older man’s frown visible beneath a thick, salt-and-pepper beard.

“And how can we help you, officer?” he asked, low and gruff.

The uniformed man’s eyes twinkled. “It’s Handler, actually, if you don’t mind. My pets and I,” he gestured to the bouncy women ambling about the store, “have reason to believe that an anti-citizen may be hiding somewhere in the neighborhood. You haven’t, by any chance, seen or heard anything strange recently, have you?”

Zander paused for thought, rubbing the back of his shaved head. “Can’t say I have,” he answered. “We get all types here, but no one who fits that description. Not that any self-respecting radical would be caught dead here anyway.”

“Hm, I suppose not,” the Handler mused, glancing at one of his girls as she stroked a whip of twisting leather. “It would be rather absurd for an anti-citizen to lay low in a store such as this. So absurd it’s almost funny.” His smile broadened into a gleaming, fanged grin. “Nevertheless, duty compels me to consider all options, no matter how laughable you or I may find them. So—if you would kindly assist me in searching the premises, I would be happy to check your establishment off the list and move onto more…plausible possibilities.”

Zander drummed his fingers on the counter. “Alright. Ken, keep an eye on the girls would you? I’ll show our guest around.”

“Much appreciated. Ah, actually…” the uniformed man held up a gloved hand. “I would like one of my pets to join us, if you don’t mind. Come along, A44.” Immediately, the bimbo he indicated answered his call, pigtails bouncing as she trotted to his side.

Ken’s stomach twisted with dread. He’d been watching that girl, and something about her gave him the heebie-jeebies. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t joined her friends in exploring the merchandise, instead lingering at the store entrance and staring off into space. Or maybe it was the fact that, somehow, her face seemed…oddly familiar, though he had some difficulty placing it.

Whatever the cause, the young rebel made sure to meet Zander’s gaze, flashing a silent warning that their guests were more dangerous than they seemed. The older man hesitated for the briefest of moments, gave a barely perceptible “what else is new?” shrug, and proceeded to lead the Handler and his pet into the shop’s back halls.

The door to the storeroom closed. Ken watched the other three bimbos for a moment, then took Zander’s spot behind the counter. After making sure the girls were distracted, he risked a quick peek below, and saw with some relief that the silent alarm had been triggered. At the very least, Hugo and Natalie had been warned of the Handler’s arrival, and were likely preparing to fight, should it come to that.

Their back-up plan assured, the young rebel next brought up the building’s security feed, searching until he found the camera overlooking the storeroom. He watched as Zander stood in the corner, hairy arms crossed, waiting silently for the Handler to finish his search. Or, more accurately, it was A44 who was doing most of the searching, though her movements seemed too aimless to be of much help. Gradually, Ken let himself relax. Maybe he’d been worrying for nothing. Any enforcer who’d let a dummy like her take the lead probably wasn’t too bright himself. At this rate, there was no way they would be able to sort through all the strategically placed clutter, much less discover the secret floor hatch hidden beneath it.

But then something strange happened. The girl known as A44 paused, staring open-mouthed at a cart stacked with vibrators, as if the colorful packaging had her completely entranced.

The Handler’s eyebrows arched. “What are you looking at, my pet?”

“This thingy…” The bimbo drifted closer, fingers tentatively grasping the cart’s metal handles. “I feel like…I wanna move it outta the way…but…” She giggled. “I dunno why.”

Ken’s breath caught in his throat, just as he saw Zander tense onscreen.

No. It couldn’t be.

“Go ahead,” the uniform man encouraged. “Let’s see what’s underneath it, shall we?”

“Okaaay!” A44 grasped the cart, eager to do as bidden. But rather than smoothly guide it from the wall, the dimwitted girl gave it an excited yank in the wrong direction, toppling it and spilling boxes all over the floor.

Simultaneously, Zander and Ken cringed.

“Oops.” The bimbo looked at the mess of packages around her feet. “Sorry, I thought it would go, like…y’know?”

The Handler ignored her apology, stepping forward and sifting through the fallen merchandise, searching the floor to find…

…Nothing.

He frowned. Shot Zander a searching look. The older rebel merely sighed.

“I don’t mind if you search the place,” he said. “But couldja at least make sure your dog doesn’t mess it up?”

For a moment, the Handler’s mask seemed to slip, a sharp, primal fury flashing behind his eyes. Then his features relaxed, congenial smile returning as he stood and straightened his jacket.

“My apologies,” he said. “It won’t happen again. In fact, I think we’re almost done here.”

Beyond the screen, Ken exhaled, wiping a bead of sweat from his face. That had been close. The cart that A44 had flipped once served as cover for the secret hatch to the basement. Thank God they’d decided to switch it out for a pallet of empty boxes a couple weeks ago.

Still…even if she’d been wrong, it was weird how close the clueless bimbo had gotten. Why had she become so fixated on that cart? Did she know something? Had she…been here before? Was that why she seemed so familiar?

But…if that was the case, then…

Who exactly was she?

Aki.

Aki was a Hound.

Aki was a brainwashed bimbo slut.

Natalie groaned, the scene from the park replaying behind her closed eyes. She could see the cherry blossoms parting, the girl in the harness, pigtails shifting in the wind, her stupid expression tilting, staring blankly as her ex-best friend made out with her ex-lover.

Smart Aki, brave Aki, perfect Aki—now dumb Aki, docile Aki, broken Aki.

A leader of the resistance, a champion of free thought—a domesticated bootlicker, an empty-headed sex-pet.

It was terrible. Unconscionable. Natalie should be horrified. Sickened. She should be curled up in a ball on her bed, mourning the loss of yet another sister-in-arms.

So why was she sitting here instead, feet up on her desk and naked legs spread wide?

And why couldn’t she stop masturbating?

The hacker whimpered, hips shifting as they rode another wave of arousal. It had to be the kiss. That was the only explanation. Whatever chemicals and subliminals had been lying dormant in her body, they must’ve activated the moment she and Hugo locked lips. Even now, hours later, her senses still thrummed with forbidden sensations—echoes of his touch, traces of his scent, remnants of his warmth. All of it burned with blazing clarity, a fire consuming her mind.

And yet, even as the flames of desire held her spellbound, she could still sense a figure lurking in their shadows. She couldn’t escape it—no matter how fervently she told herself that all she felt was lust, that she was merely enduring a Hugo-inspired hormonal storm until her senses returned, the dark truth remained in the back of her brain.

It wasn’t just the kiss that was driving her to depravity. No, when Natalie pumped her fingers into her pussy, groping her own breasts as her breath quickened into lewd gasps, she wasn’t just imagining Hugo taking her into his arms. She was thinking of Aki, standing there with her uncomprehending gaze, too stupid to realize that she was now the lesser woman, that in the end, she had lost.

And Natalie had won.

Wicked pleasure stirred in her depths. The hacker grit her teeth, stopping herself before she fell over the edge. Panting, she lifted her hand from her quivering sex, the light of her monitors revealing fingers wet and shining, sticky with proof that her former friend’s bimbofication didn’t just arouse her—it was practically driving her crazy.

No—no that couldn’t be true. She wouldn’t accept it. That wasn’t who Natalie was. She was a strong, independent, free-thinking feminist; not some petty, lovesick, envious harpy.

But then…why had she lied to Hugo? Why had she kept Aki’s conversion a secret? Surely, it would be in his best interests—no, the best interests of the cause—if they all knew that their former leader was now the Patriarchs’ faithful servant. But in that moment, Natalie hadn’t been thinking about the cause, her comrades, or proper protocol. All that she’d been worried about, all she’d cared about, was how hard and strong Hugo’s body had felt, and how badly she…she wanted…

Natalie groaned, severing that line of thought before it could fully ensnare her. She leaned back in her chair, trying to think of anything else, to escape the truth that had been stalking her all night. Yet even as she fled through the corridors of her mind, the need within her continued to pulse, her pussy dripping with desperate desire, reminding her of that moment, that feeling, those dulled, familiar eyes and dreadful, delicious feelings.

A distraction. Natalie needed to find a distraction. Something guaranteed to pull her focus and drag her out of these horrible fantasies. She reached for her keyboard, smearing it with her own juices as she hurriedly typed. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she was making a mistake. But it was too late—already, the porn site had finished loading, the auto-play feature spilling an endless stream of video onto every single monitor, until even the corners of her vision were filled with subliminal-laced smut.

This was a bad idea. Already, she could detect traces of spirals behind the bouncing tits and bobbing cocks, pulling her focus as hidden words slipped deep into her subconscious. She needed to stop—to cut the connection and shut her machine down immediately. Instead, the horny hacker sank back into the chair, thighs parting as a warm fog enveloped her mind. It was suddenly so very difficult to care, and so much easier sink into the moment, the pleasure, stroking and rubbing all her silly worries away.

This was fine—she was just going to enjoy herself a little. She would do extra de-programming exercises later. Or whatever. It didn’t matter right now. There were so many more interesting things for her to think about. Like all the fucking and sucking flashing before her eyes, every detail so clear she could practically smell the sex on her screens. Her mouth drifted open, a thin trail of drool spilling down her chin. Dimly, she thought to wipe it away, only for a molten bubble of pleasure to consume that thought, popping and vanishing in a blinding burst of arousal.

If she still had any semblance of self-awareness, she might’ve been worried about what was happening to her. She might’ve realized that she was no longer completely in control of her actions, that her moans and motions were beginning to sync up with the porn blaring from her screens. But such concerns could no longer reach her, not while she was so fixated on a Hound orgy cam-show, their voluptuous bodies entangled in an undulating sea of pleasure, blissful faces glimpsed beneath tides of soft flesh and glistening lips. The enraptured hacker had no idea why she’d become so captivated by this scene, nor did she care. Her consciousness had been subordinated by a single feeling, an irresistible yearning, growing more delirious and desperate by the second, until she was panting and pleading with every hot breath, begging someone, anyone, to please, please just let her…

A powerful pulse stole Natalie’s breath. Her voice crumbled into a hoarse, shuddering howl, pleasure stretching her taut until she feared she might snap, legs shaking and eyes rolling as she yielded to its power.

Then at once, the tension broke as her pussy squirted and gushed, coating her chair and desk in eager, ecstatic spurts.

Something was wrong, Ken realized, watching the security feed with growing dread. One minute, it seemed like the Handler and his pet were about to break off the search; the next, the pigtailed bimbo had suddenly halted in her tracks, sniffing the air like a hunting dog detecting prey.

“What is it?” her Handler asked, a knowing smirk spreading across his face.

The collared girl inhaled deeply, then giggled. “I smell girl-cum. Like, lots and lotsa girl-cum.”

Zander’s posture stiffened. “The hell is she talking about?” he demanded, an anxious edge creeping into his voice. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Nothing at all,” the Handler answered, watching his pet follow her nose around the room. “This is merely a byproduct of her training. As you may have noticed, my Hounds don’t have much going on upstairs, and what little brainpower they do have tends to get commandeered by their overactive sex-drives. Fortunately, this single-minded focus has honed their libidinal senses to a razor’s edge, making them very efficient at sniffing out potential partners.” His eyes gleamed. “Even if they don’t want to be found.”

The prowling bimbo stopped before a stack of boxes, blinking for a moment before casting a confused look at her owner. “Um…”

“What is it, my pet?” he asked.

She pointed. “I smell girl here, but, um, I don’t see anyone. Is she, like, hiding in the boxes?”

Behind the monitor, Ken tensed, his stomach twisting with terror. It seemed too crazy to believe but, somehow, the airheaded ditz was pointing at the exact spot where the secret hatch was hidden.

Zander let out a forced laugh. “Your girl seems a little lost. Nothing in those but condoms and pamphlets.”

The buxom girl pouted. “But I, like, totally smell pussy juice here. For real!”

The Handler chuckled. “There, there. I believe you, my dear. Why don’t we move these boxes aside, and see if that sheds some light on the problem, hm?”

Ken staggered from the counter as though he’d been struck.

This was bad. Very bad. Their whole operation was about to be exposed, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

In a panic, the young rebel brought up a feed of the hidden bunker’s cameras, no longer caring who else could see it. Their cover was effectively blown anyway—all he could do now was making sure his comrades were prepared to fight.

What he saw instead sucked the air from his lungs.

They were masturbating. Both of them. Natalie was seated at her desk, legs splayed and lips drooling, furiously fingering her pussy as the S-14 filter sat uselessly on a nearby pile of clothes. Hugo, meanwhile, was lying on his bed, stroking his cock with increasing ferocity, Nat’s name occasionally audible beneath the harsh rasping of his breath. Neither seemed aware of the silent alarm blinking in their rooms, nor the fact that they were mere minutes away from being discovered.

Ken gaped at the video feeds, hopes crumbling before his eyes. He knew he had to do something, but what? The Handler had already drawn his sidearm, and was now holding Zander at gunpoint while the pet bimbo uncovered the secret hatch. There was no way Ken could safely intervene, and neither Hugo nor Nat were responding to his calls. The way things were headed, they would all be captured and converted before the night was over.

Ken had to run. That was the only answer. If he left now, there was a chance he could slip away before the Handler’s backup arrived. Stealing a final, guilty glance at the security feeds, Ken powered down his wrist-com and tossed it on the ground, the thin band snapping under his boot as he made his escape.

Or, at least he tried to. But the young rebel didn’t even get five meters from the counter before three giggling bimbos intercepted him.

“Hey, where ya going?” the tall, wavy-haired one asked, blocking his path with a playful pout. “Master said you’re not s’posed to leave.”

Ken halted in place, the sight and scent of the voluptuous beauty hitting him like a brick wall. He shook his head, lowering his gaze and trying to slip past her, only for the pudgier bimbo to latch onto his arm.

“Wait a sec,” she said, squeezing his captured limb between her breasts. “Master said we could play with him if he tried to leave. So, um, we can totally play with him now, right?”

“Oooh you’re right!” the third bimbo giggled. “You’ll play with us, right sir?” She took his free hand, guiding its trembling digits between her legs. “We really…mm…really want you to.”

“I…” Ken swallowed, words failing him. His head was rapidly fogging, lost in a thick cloud of lust and fear. His hands moved automatically, squeezing and kneading one girl’s breasts while stroking her partner’s cunt, her excited moans shaking something deep inside him. He could feel the blood in his veins warming, his heart beating so hard it reverberated all the way to the erection straining his jeans. In the corner of his mind, a faint voice screamed for him to escape, to shove these temptresses aside and bolt for the door. But his body was no longer listening to reason. The urges he’d been suppressing for so long were now taking control, subduing his better nature and turning his groans of protest into growls of hunger.

He couldn’t fight it. Couldn’t escape it.

All that was left to do…

Was give in.

Natalie didn’t hear the shrieker grenade go off.

But she certainly felt it.

The high-frequency pulse blew through her senses like a hurricane, her world suddenly spinning as her balance failed and vision blurred. She fell to the side, limp like a lifeless doll, consciousness shattering as she toppled from her chair and crashed into darkness.

When she next came to, her eyes opened on a nightmare.

She was kneeling in the common room, naked and weak, echoes of the grenade still pounding in her head. With a groan, she tried to stand, only to halt as something pulled her back. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed a pair of gel-cuffs binding her wrists, the black, synthetic goo stuck securely to the wall behind her, allowing no more than a few inches of stretch before snapping her back into position.

A cold shiver raced down the hacker’s back. She’d been caught. Somehow, the Hounds had traced her and Hugo back to the safehouse. Swiveling her gaze forward, Natalie gasped as she witnessed the full scope of her failure. At the other end of the common room, the male rebels were displayed in a similar manner to her, wrists gel-cuffed to a metal pipe hanging from the ceiling, their naked, muscular bodies forced to stand stiffly at attention.

With one exception. While Zander and Ken stood trapped and helpless, Ken was seated on the couch, a chubby, jiggling Hound bouncing on his cock while another watched, cooing and fawning over the pair. Rage and indignation twisted in Natalie’s gut. And yet…as she continued staring…the sheen of sweat gleaming in her eyes…the scent of arousal wafting beneath her nose…the sounds of pleasure tickling her ears…it was all stirring something deep within her, a longing she was no longer capable of denying, even as she tried to resist it.

She wasn’t the only one struggling with temptation. For all his strength and discipline, Zander seemed to be on the verge of some kind of psychotic break, his mouth open and eyelids fluttering as a wavy-haired bimbo ran her hands up and down his taut torso, murmuring seductive nothings into his ears. The older man’s cock was raised and rigid, twitching with every uneven breath, red tip pleading for the delicate touch of its tormentor, though she showed no intention of honoring its request.

Hugo, meanwhile, seemed to have chosen catatonia as the best defense. His dark eyes remained low and distant, his expression blank and unmoving, showing neither interest nor revulsion towards the moans and gasps of his comrades. It was unsettling, seeing the massive man so helpless and hollow. Or so Natalie kept telling herself, trying her best to feel disturbed, even as her hungry eyes savored the bulging muscles of his arms, the hard contours of his abs and the thick meat of his cock, alluring and impressive even as it hung limp between his legs.

If he looked her way, the hacker wondered, would that be enough to rouse the beast from its slumber? Would he become like Zander, growling and grinding the air, all pretense to civility crushed beneath an irresistible, primal need? Natalie licked her lips, admonishing herself for the fantasy, then continuing to think about it anyway.

Footsteps down the hallway—the clack of boots and patter of bare soles. Tearing her eyes from the shackled men, Natalie craned her neck just in time to see a man in white stride by, humming to himself while the bimbofied Aki trailed in his wake. She slowed, glancing at the captured hacker with that same perplexed expression she’d worn at the park. The feeling of her gaze was unnerving, but for some reason Natalie couldn’t bring herself to meet it. Instead, her attention had become completely captured by the Handler, her breath catching as he slowly turned and gazed down at her naked, helpless form.

He was in command here. Natalie recognized this not as a deduction, but an immutable fact, as natural and undeniable as gravity. He wasn’t as overtly masculine as the other men, lacking Hugo’s towering physique and Zander’s hard, weathered features. And yet, with every move the Handler made, the captive hacker could sense the power coiled within his slender frame, limbs corded with muscle and a chest thrumming with a conqueror’s heart. Even the subtle curve of his smile was like a viper ready to strike, the blue of his eyes akin to ice aflame, glowing with intensity even as they held Natalie with cold, calculating precision. She’d already accepted her capture, but it was only now that she truly felt cornered. The kneeling rebel shuddered, a shameful trickle of arousal leaking from her sex.

“You’re finally awake,” the Handler said, voice dancing with amusement. “I barely recognized you without that costume of yours. It seems in this case, A44 here is even more perceptive than I.” He chuckled. “How embarrassing.”

“G-go to hell,” Natalie seethed, sounding more strained and fragile than she cared to admit.

Still, it was apparently enough to scandalize Aki’s dulled sensibilities. “Hey!” the brainwashed radical pouted. “That was mean! You’re not s’posed to talk to Master like that!”

The Handler waved her way. “That’s enough, pet. I can handle this one. Why don’t you go entertain the others for a while?”

Instantly, the Hound’s expression softened. “But…uhm…”

“You’ll have a chance to play with her later. Now go.” He waited, then turned back to Natalie with a smirk. “This isn’t the first time she’s lead us to your kind, but she seems particularly interested in you. Why is that, do you suppose?”

Natalie knew she couldn’t answer without her voice breaking. So she said nothing.

The Handler sighed. “You know, that brain of yours isn’t going to much use for long. I suggest you enjoy using it while you can. For example…” He reached into his coat pocket, extracting a familiar, thin metal square. “I don’t suppose you could help me identify this interesting little gadget, hm?”

Again, Natalie held her tongue, staring at the floor. So when sharp leather suddenly struck her cheek, the slap caught her completely by surprise.

“Tell me what this is,” the Handler commanded. “Now.”

“A-a subliminal filter!” the dazed hacker babbled. She couldn’t help it. The blow barely stung, but its meaning rippled through her like a revelation, a lesson in subservience her body instinctively obeyed. “It’s the l-latest model. S-14.”

“Very good.” His gloved hand stroked her cheek. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? You’re going to be a fine Hound, I can tell.” He moved away, a humiliating, unbidden whimper following in the wake of his touch. “I’m sure the boys in development will enjoy cracking this one. In the meantime…oh?”

Natalie followed his gaze and felt her hammering heart skip. Aki had paused mid-stride in front of Hugo, head titled as she considered him with wide, fascinated eyes. Suddenly, the towering man shifted, rising out of his stupor like a flower reaching towards the sun.

“Aki…?” His jaw was slack with shock. “Is that…?”

“Huh?” The clueless bimbo stepped closer. “Did you, like, say something?”

“It’s you. Aki you’re…they…”

His faltering voice was interrupted by a giggle. “You talk funny, mister. I can’t even, like, understand you.” The Hound looked towards her Handler. “Is he broken?”

“Not quite, my dear,” the white-clad officer replied. “I believe he recognizes you.”

“Whaaat?” Aki blinked dumbly, then squinted at the naked rebel before her. “Did we, like fuck before? Oh…” Her gaze landed on his cock, now upright and throbbing against her thigh. “Mmm…we totally did, didn’t we?”

“Aki, w-wait…” Hugo squirmed, hips bucking as the intrigued bimbo knelt for a closer look, her nose nearly bopping into his massive member as it swung in futile struggle. Natalie watched mutely, her mouth watering too much to speak.

Suddenly, a loud cry erupted in the small space. At once, everyone turned towards the source, just in time to see Zander’s shaking body go limp, the wavy-haired Hound standing in total shock in front of him, a generous splatter of cum sliding down her leg.

“Um, um.” She turned, seeming flabbergasted as she looked between the unconscious rebel and her Handler. “I um, I didn’t touch him. I mean, I like, touched him but, um, not down there! I promise, Master, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay, H62,” the Handler interrupted, tapping his glove. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Help him down, won’t you?”

The gel-cuffs holding Zander chirped and popped, disengaging from the pipe and dropping his body into the waiting bimbo’s arms. The weight of him seemed to catch her off guard, but after a brief stumble, she managed to gently lower him onto the ground, looking more worried than Natalie thought possible for such an airhead.

“Is he, like…um…did he…” The Hound swallowed, unable to finish the word.

The Handler stepped closer, surveying Zander for a moment before affectionately ruffling the bimbo’s hair. “Of course not, dummy. See? He’s still breathing. He just hadn’t achieved orgasm in a very long time, so…”

Understanding seemed to dawn on the brainwashed girl. “Ohmigod. You mean he, like, came so hard he…?”

“Fainted, yes. This happens sometimes, especially with the old-school radicals. For some reason, a good number of them still believe that abstaining from self-gratification will keep their minds sharp and strong. But really, it just means that when they do finally let go, they tend to be a little…unprepared for the backlash.”

“Oh. Uh…whuzzat mean?”

“It means you should keep an eye on him, dear. When he gets back up, he’s going to be insatiable. He’ll also be a little less…well-socialized than he was before. A consequence of denying his natural impulses for so long.” The Handler shot a pointed look at Hugo. “For your sake, big man, I hope you haven’t made the same mistake.”

Aki sniffed Hugo’s cock. “Mmm…don’t worry, Sir. He, like, totally takes care of himself. I can tell.” The excited tip jumped under her nose, causing her to giggle. “Ooo…and he wants mooorrrree…”

The Handler smirked. “Well, why don’t you help him? We can’t leave the poor man hanging, can we?”

“’Kaayyy,” the ex-radical answered, mouth opening wide.

Hugo’s eyes bulged. “W-wait! Aki y-you don’t…oh!” He gasped as his cock vanished between her lips, his entire body tightening as she pressed forward to kiss base of his crotch. She hummed, low and luxurious, savoring the moment before pulling herself free with a wet slurp, giggling and letting the shaft fall against her face, strands of her own saliva dripping down the bridge of her nose.

“I suggest you relax and enjoy it,” the Handler called over his captive’s moans. “There’s nothing quite like the first time. When you finally accept the natural order, and grasp the power you were born to take…” He exhaled, a quiver of excitement in his breath. “It’s…miraculous.”

From the floor, Natalie watched as the former feminist’s tongue swirled up Hugo’s cock, lingering to worship the tip before she swallowed him once again. Distantly, the entranced hacker knew she should be horrified, that she was supposed to be screaming and crying and cursing the Patriarchs for all they stood for. But no matter how fervently she stoked the rage in her stomach, its weak flames couldn’t survive the waves of envy and arousal flowing inside her, a puddle of her own juices staining the floor as she wished, hopelessly and shamefully, that she was kneeling in the Hound’s place.

Hugo’s breath was now steady, his grunts becoming more rhythmic and rumbling with desire. It wouldn’t be long before he surrendered to the Hound’s supplications, giving her and her Handler exactly what they wanted. And yet, even as he began thrusting into the bimbo’s obliging mouth, he still seemed determined not to meet her adoring eyes. Instead, his clouded gaze was squarely fixed…

…On Natalie.

She stiffened. There was something there. Vague and indefinable. But more powerful than anything she’d experienced before.

A plea. A call. A command.

Unspoken and yet irresistible.

The hacker groaned, leaning forward with all her might, gel-cuffs stretching as she tried to pull herself free. She was dimly aware of the pain in her shoulders, the straining of her tendons as they fought a hopeless fight. But that didn’t matter—nothing did besides the rising strain of Hugo’s breath, the glimpses of his cock plunging again and again down the Hound’s eager throat, the happy bimbo savoring a blessing that Natalie wanted, no deserved more than she could possibly understand.

Suddenly, the cuffs broke apart. The bleary-eyed hacker lurched forward, barely catching herself in time to desperately crawl towards her target. She wasn’t sure if she’d managed to rip apart her restraints, or if the Handler had released her. It was all the same, either way—she was free, at last, to take what she wanted.

And what she wanted was Hugo’s cock.

“Mm?” Aki’s eyes widened, a startled squeak escaping as Natalie pulled her off the giant rebel’s member. He let out a confused grumble, then gasped as a new pair of lips enveloped him, a low growl of satisfaction rumbling in his throat. The sound set the hacker’s heart aflame, hot circuits of desire sparking throughout her body as the warm taste of him filled her mouth. A pink haze settled over her mind, thoughts blurring and shimmering like a heat mirage, formless and indistinct. Whatever she’d believed before, whatever she’d felt in the moments leading up to now, it was all rapidly evaporating, leaving only the pulsing shaft on her tongue, and the new sense of purpose it gave her.

Perhaps that was why she barely reacted as Aki knelt beside her, kissing the base of Hugo’s cock as Natalie serviced the rest. The hacker shot a glance at her ditzy counterpart, only for a manly moan to send her eyelashes fluttering, the brief, jealous spark quickly forgotten. What did she have to be jealous about anyway? She had a nice, juicy cock fucking her face didn’t she?

What else could a silly, sexy girl like her want?

With a soft whimper, Natalie gradually pulled free of her superior’s sex, drool stringing from her mouth as she panted for breath. The subliminals had taught her plenty about cock sucking theory, but its practical realities still left her throat and jaw sore and struggling. Fortunately, Aki was there to take the lead while her sister-in-servitude rested, the Hound’s lips closing around Hugo’s tip as her head bowed and bobbed. Tired though she was, Natalie couldn’t resist the pull of her desires for long, and soon found her own tongue trailing in Aki’s wake. The bimbo’s saliva tasted sweet, every drop tingling on the rebel’s tastebuds, traces of brain-melting chemicals she couldn’t help but mindlessly swallow.

“F-fuck,” Hugo grunted. “You’re actually…oh God. Nat…Aki...if you keep going, I’m gonna…”

The strain in his voice was primal music to Natalie’s ears, her body moving to a rhythm she no longer understood or controlled. Aki too seemed possessed by the same silent beat, her lips sliding and tongue stroking in perfect tandem with her partner, both girls serving their superior as one. Filled with such synchronicity, the hacker didn’t hesitate to follow the Hound up the throbbing expanse of Hugo’s shaft, their mouths slipping over the tip before pressing into one another, in a slow, sensual kiss.

Natalie stiffened, a soft groan escaping her. As empty and muzzy as her head felt, the sensation of Aki’s tongue inside it managed to part the mental fog, allowing a sliver of self-awareness through.

Wait…

What…was she doing?

Gradually, the kiss broke. Aki licked her lips, grinning before returning to the glistening cock before them. Natalie stared, open-mouthed and confused, caught between the urge to yield to her instincts, and the vague recognition that they weren’t really her instincts at all.

Or were they? It was hard to tell anymore. She was so lost, so dizzy, so…

“Hey…” Aki was suddenly looking at her, hands gently cupping her face. “Don’t stop now. He’s super close. Here.” She guided the wavering hacker towards the object of their worship, delicately opening her jaw wide enough to take it.

“Nnn…mmmm….” The taste sent a euphoric shiver through Natalie, dispelling her hesitation in an instant. She resumed her duties with a blissful hum, the mighty cock plunging effortlessly down her open, pliant throat.

The Hound beside her giggled. “See? Isn’t it the best? Just wait till he cums. It’s gonna feel so, so good.”

Natalie barely heard her. She barely heard anything beyond her own heartbeat, thundering with anticipation as she felt Hugo twitch, stiffen, and…

The first spurt hit the back of her throat, thick and hot and catching her by surprise. She recovered quickly, swallowing the shock down with the next delicious mouthful, heat splashing in her belly as she greedily gulped down her reward. Her brain felt fuzzy and soft, half-formed thoughts breaking as pulses of pleasure radiated from her core, growing in speed and intensity until there was no longer space between them. She gasped, spent cock falling from her mouth, body beginning to shake as the blissful tremors became too much to contain. Suddenly, her back arched, muscles seized with searing ecstasy, a cry escaping her lips as her strength finally gave out, leaving her to topple and crumple into a helpless, shuddering heap.

When the world came back into focus, Natalie found herself lying on the floor, hips quivering in sporadic spasms, mouth and cunt drooling freely as echoes of the orgasm rippled inside her. She murmured unintelligibly, shifting and discovering that her head was nestled in Aki’s lap, the Hound’s soft fingers delicately stroking her face.

“Mmmm…that was, like, so hot,” the pigtailed bimbo cooed. “Feel good?”

“Uhhh…” Natalie blinked, a stray giggle bubbling free before she could form an answer. Truth be told, she felt amazing. She’d never cum just from sucking a guy off before. Why hadn’t she tried going down on Hugo sooner?

Wait…

Hugo…

A moment of hesitation, a flash of discomfort. Even as her brain felt like gooey, pink mush, shards of resistance training remained embedded deep within, prodding her to recognize what she’d done. Not only had she succumbed to the enemy’s influence, she’d assisted in corrupting a fellow rebel as well. All the work she’d put into keeping their cell intact, all the sleepless nights and exhausting days—wasted in an instant, just so she could suck cock and swallow cum.

The realization dripped shame into Natalie’s system, cooling her head and slowing her breath. But the respite was only temporary—already, she could feel the SRIA’s programming going to work, absorbing her sobering thoughts and redirecting them against her flagging resistance. Weakly, she tried to fight, but what was the point? She’d already shown that she was little more than a helpless whore, a simple-minded slut who’d give up anything for a mouthful of spunk. If she was so dumb, so incapable of thinking clearly, then maybe she shouldn’t be thinking at all. Maybe she deserved to be like Aki, all boobs and no brain, obediently following wherever her superiors and their dicks lead.

She certainly seemed happier that way.

“I’m sooooo excited,” Aki purred, tracing a finger across Natalie’s lip. “I can’t wait till you’re a good girl like me. Then we can be best friends again! Wait…” She paused, frowning. “Did we, like…used to be friends or something?”

Natalie tried to answer, then gave up. Explaining what she and Aki had been would take too much effort, too much thought. Besides, something else had grabbed her attention.

Hugo’s cock was already rehardening, cum and saliva still dripping down its shaft, rising and returning to full strength. Following its direction, Natalie’s gaze trailed upwards, eventually settling on her partner’s burning, piercing stare.

The hacker felt her insides quiver, tickling a giddy laugh from her lips. The naked giant wasn’t looking at her as an equal anymore—he was eying her like prey, a lesser species to be toyed with and tamed, deserving only of whatever was needed to sate his appetites. There wasn’t a shred of conflict or confusion left in his gaze, nothing beyond the raging fires of savage lust. Their flames danced and spun in his glowing pupils, mesmerizing Natalie as she stared in helpless awe, her sticky thighs parting in instinctive, preemptive surrender.

“I get it now…” He growled, low voice breaking into a coarse laugh. “So that’s how it is.”

Nearby, the Handler let out a low whistle, slowly approaching for a closer look. “Well, well, well,” he said, an admiring glance lingering between Hugo’s legs. “Very impressive. You might have a future as a Handler yourself, you know. It takes an…energetic sort of man to keep a full pack of sluts in line. I could put in a good word, if you’re interested.”

If Hugo heard the offer, he didn’t show it. His attention remained fixed on Natalie, ravenous and unwavering.

The Handler shook his head. “Ah, of course. We’ll talk later. In the meantime…” He tapped his glove. “Why don’t you show me what you can do?”

The gel cuffs holding Hugo chirped, then detached. He barely even blinked, pausing only for a moment to rub his wrists before stalking towards his quarry.

Natalie’s heart leapt into a panicked sprint, blood pounding in her veins as another broken giggle escaped her. The sound apparently amused Hugo, his mouth widening into a wolfish grin, steps slowing as he savored the moment, watching her squirm and struggle uselessly under his approaching shadow. Again, the training within her urged her to escape, to move now before it was too late. Both her restraints and Hugo’s had been released—if she could somehow convince him to run, the two of them might be able to make a break for it and…

“Oopsie-daisies,” Aki giggled, grasping Natalie’s shoulders and flipping her over.

“Wha—?” The hacker suddenly found herself on her knees and elbows, pussy raised and open for the taking, a trickle of horny helplessness trailing down her leg.

Aki smirked mischievously, shuffling beside Natalie before mimicking her position. “Just wait,” the bimbo said, placing their hips side-by-side. “This is gonna make him go crazy.”

“B-but I…ah…” Natalie’s head spun, eyes darting every which way, chasing too many conflicting impulses at once. Then a soft hand grasped her chin, gently pulling her gaze into a pair of large, docile eyes.

“It’s okay,” the Hound murmured. “Just relax. All you gotta do is fuck. That’s like, the easiest, most bestest thing in the world.” She grinned.

Natalie let out a trembling laugh. It was surreal, seeing a former rebel smile so cheerfully while waiting to be fucked into submission. And yet, despite its incongruity, Aki’s beaming expression shifted something in the hacker’s head. Perhaps it was all the subliminals clicking into place. Or perhaps the stress had finally pushed her over the brink. Whatever the case, Natalie suddenly found her anxiety fading, a strange calm enveloping her as she stared into the bimbo’s excited expression.

She seemed…so happy. Dumb, yes, but gladly so, thoughts as airy and bubbly as her laughter. Before her conversion, even Aki’s brightest smiles had held traces of worry, their light shadowed by the rebellion and all that it asked of her. Now, the grin she wore was free of hesitation, free of worry, as simple and pure as sunshine. The Patriarchs had caged her will, crushed her potential, but also liberated her from her struggle, from her stress, from all the spiteful, painful feelings that still held sway over Natalie’s heart.

It was ironic, really. Even as the hacker had claimed intellectual superiority, it was the Hound who’d ultimately shown her just how limited her thinking was. Until now, she’d never imagined enslavement could be so emancipating.

“Hm?” Aki blinked. “What are y—”

Natalie silenced the question with a passionate kiss, pouring her gratitude into her surprised teacher’s lips. The Hound quickly adapted, their mouths melting together as their tongues intertwined, closing whatever distance had once kept them apart.

The moment seemed to stretch into blissful eternity. Then Natalie let out a squeak as a pair of rough hands grabbed her hips.

“What do we have here?” Hugo chuckled, callously kneading his prey’s trembling backside. “Looks like I’m not the only one waking up.”

“Uh, um, I—ah!” The hacker’s voice collapsed as a rigid cock slid between her thighs, the warmth of its shaft just barely kissing the flushed, sticky lips of her cunt.

“This is what you want isn’t it?” The massive man chuckled. “You’ve always wanted it. From the moment we met, you’ve been aching to have it inside you. Don’t think I didn’t notice—all those little looks, all those ‘accidental’ touches, all the times you somehow ‘forgot’ to knock. It seemed so obvious, but I couldn’t make sense of it. ‘Cause every time I tried to get close, you’d always pull away. Not anymore though, huh?”

“Uhh….mnnnnnhhaaa…” Natalie struggled to do more than drool and moan, her dwindling intellect consumed by the powerful heat radiating against her pussy.

“But now I get it. It was all ‘cause of this bitch, wasn’t it?”

Beside Natalie, Aki suddenly stiffened, her smile breaking into an open-mouthed gasp. The dazed hacker glanced over her shoulder and realized that Hugo’s hand was now working between the Hound’s legs, thick, manly fingers already slick with her juices as they stroked and probed her dripping sex.

“I knew it.” Hugo smirked. “You’re jealous of her, Nat. I can tell. Probably thought I wouldn’t lay a finger on you unless she was totally out of the picture, right? You stupid slut.”

“Ah!” Natalie squeaked as the cock beneath her began moving, sliding and gliding between her trembling lips, teasing her with the promise of pleasure she’d spent years yearning for. Instinctively, she pressed against its rigid girth, desperate to coax it inside, to feel it fill her and claim her and break her at last. But her tormentor only chuckled, his mighty hands keeping her in her place, holding her on the edge of bliss as she wriggled and whimpered.

“I’ll admit—I was hung up on Aki for a little while. But that was just guilt talking. I thought it was my fault she disappeared, so it was up to me to find her again. Guess I was barking up the wrong tree, huh?”

As if in agreement, the bimbo beside Natalie let out a mewling whine, grinding against Hugo’s hand as she gushed freely onto the floor.

“She wouldn’t have stopped us, Nat,” he continued, voice fraying beneath rough edges of desire. “If you’d just been real with me. With yourself. Instead of playing all these stupid games. Driving me crazy and…well, you’re gonna make it up to me now. You’re gonna make it up to me forever. It’s all you’re gonna do for the rest of your dumb bimbo life. Starting…now.”

Natalie’s heart skipped, casting fluttering ripples through her stomach as she sensed Hugo shifting. The head of his cock searched for her opening, grazing and slipping until…

With a squeal, she felt him enter at last, her soft, sensitive flesh parting with ease, yielding to his conquest while clinging tightly to its instrument, ensuring they both felt every inch of sweet, submissive surrender. Intoxicating heat blazed through her, growing and spreading the deeper he pushed, igniting dormant muscles and hidden nerves, conduits of pleasure she hadn’t even known she possessed. Once fully inside, he began a slow, patient survey of his new territory, every shift, every twitch squeezing hot bliss from her insides, leaving her lowing and leaking uncontrollably.

“So that’s how you feel huh?” Hugo teased. “I could get used to this. Now…”

Natalie almost sobbed as she felt him withdraw, orgasmic echoes chasing his departure. She tried to speak, to plead for his return, only for the words to slur into nonsense as his fingers found her cunt, stroking her aching folds and teasing her clit as he cooed condescendingly from above.

“Shhh…it’s alright, pet. I’m not going anywhere. I just…wanna compare and…contrast…ahhh…”

Faintly, the shivering hacker registered that Hugo was fucking Aki now, her whimpers coarsening into excited grunts as her ass slapped and rippled against his hips.

“Mmh…goddamn…” Hugo exhaled. “This is one well-trained bitch alright.”

A voice vaguely recognizable as the Handler’s chuckled. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Will…ah…will Nat be like her too? Once you’re done with…ngh…y’know?”

“More or less. They all have their own little personalities and quirks. But in terms of their capacity for service, well…there wouldn’t be much point to them otherwise, would there?”

“Guess not.”

A terse breath. Wet flesh rubbing. A pleading whimper. Bodies shifting in Natalie’s periphery. She barely noticed. The world had all but vanished beyond the teasing tips of her superior’s fingers, and the glorious torture they inflicted upon her.

“What do you think, Nat?” Hugo purred. “What do you think the point of you is now?”

“H-huh?” The confused radical blinked. There was…something in that question…something that made her head throb but…then she felt a warm, heavy cock rest against her ass, and quickly forgot what she’d been thinking about.

“I’ll tell you,” Hugo grunted. “Your purpose is to serve. To fuck. To obey. When I’m through with you, there’s not gonna be anything left in that pretty little head of yours besides whatever it takes to make me happy. And that won’t be much.” His laughter dripped with condescension. “I’m a man of simple needs after all.”

The words bounced through Natalie’s head, only occasionally finding purchase, preoccupied as she was mindlessly wagging her hips, begging to be fucked like a bitch in heat.

“How does that sound?” her superior asked. “You want it, don’t you? You want me to break you, isn’t that right?”

“Uh…” Natalie gaped, aware she’d been asked a question, but unable to form a response.

“What’s the matter? Having trouble focusing? Here, I’ll help.” The tip of his cock shifted, slowly gliding into her, coaxing a desperate cry from her lips. “Beg me to fuck you, you dumb whore. Tell me how badly you wanna be my pet. My stupid little sex-slave. My personal fuck-toy. Tell me it’s all you’re good for, all you’ll ever be good for. And if you convince me, then…maybe…”

The words were spilling from Natalie before she could stop them, dribbling from her lips as her aching cunt drooled. “P-please, Sir. Please fuck me. Please make me your s-stupid little sex-slave. Your p-personal fuck-toy. Please. It’s all I’m good for. Please. A-all I’ll…ever…be good for. P-please. Please. Please please please, Sir, please fuck me, I need it I…AH!”

“That’s more like it,” her superior growled, laughing as she shivered and came around his cock. “That’s a good girl. Already thinking with her cunt instead of her brain. Exactly how she should be.”

The broken girl could only squeal in response, unable to speak over the crashing waves of pleasure. Every thrust was another peak breaking, every cry another levy of resistance crumbling, flooding her insides with toxic, torrid euphoria. The roiling waters bubbled and churned, forming a thick steam that rose into her head, enveloping her mind in a buzzy, burning fog. Even as a sudden orgasm rocked her senses, rolling into another before she could react, the shock failed to break the billowing haze. If anything, the pink cloud only grew thicker, sizzling tendrils slipping into the deepest recesses of her brain, softening and reshaping it from the inside. Occasionally, they would find a stubborn piece of her old self, a shard they would gently lubricate and extract, holding it to the heat until it dissolved into glittering nothing, like a star dying in her distant, dimming eyes.

She was being remade.

Reeducated.

Reduced.

All realizations that Natalie reached and then lost, edges too slippery to grasp in the sea of happy chemicals. And why would she want to, anyway? It was so much easier to just float along. To yield all control and let everything else slip away.

Thinking was too hard.

Thinking was for her superiors.

She was just a silly girl, after all.

Sometime in the endless, euphoric blur, the sound of barking reached Natalie’s ears. Her lolling head turned, just enough to see Aki panting beside her, taking her Handler’s cock with eager abandon, yipping happily as her tits swayed with every thrust.

Natalie had no idea when the enforcer had joined in. Nor when Aki had started howling like an animal. But none of that mattered. It felt right, somehow. Pure. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Natalie gasped as her own superior pulled her hair back. She could feel him getting close, the pounding of his hips against her ass growing more urgent, his cock pulsing and tightening within her, filling her with the need to express her joy, her liberation, her truth.

Without thinking, Natalie began to bark as well. Her voice rose and blended with her packmate’s, a duet of primal pleasure, filling the air and reverberating through her mind. As her superior came and her world erupted, the song of the Hounds was the last thing she heard, echoing like a distant lullaby, luring her into the depths of long, blissful sleep.

N47 loved going out.

Not that she didn’t enjoy staying in too. She loved her room. She loved playing with her packmates. She loved their toys. She loved their cushions. She loved their screen and all the yummy shows. She loved their bowls and all the yummy food. She loved eating. She loved fucking. She loved training. She loved the gym and its fancy machines. She loved her superiors and the games they taught her. She loved their white coats. She loved their clipboards. She loved how smart they were. She loved when they made her feel dumb. Which wasn’t hard. N47 wasn’t smart. She was dumb. Like, super duper dumb. As dumb as they cum, or so Master always said. But that was okay. That was great. Girls weren’t supposed to be smart anyway. They were supposed to be fun and silly and sexy. N47 was very fun and silly and sexy. That’s what made her such a good girl.

What was she thinking about again?

Going out! Master had said they were going out. N47 had gotten so excited, she’d let herself get totally distracted. Good thing Master trained her so much. Without even thinking, she’d gotten up with her packmates and followed them into the waiting transport. Now she was strapped safely in her seat, giggling as she watched Master settle into his. He was such a big man, and his chair was so small. It always looked a little silly to her.

Master shot her a look, then glanced at her neighbor, a small smile tugging on his lips. N47 stiffened, then mewled as A44’s fingers began teasing her pussy. Master was being mean. He knew how much A44 liked to tease her. Now N47 was gonna spend the whole mission all stupid and drippy.

Well, moreso than usual.

The ride out from HQ was a hot, sticky blur. It might’ve taken minutes. It might’ve taken hours. N47 didn’t know. N47 didn’t care. When the engine rumbled to a stop and her collar beeped, she got into line with the rest of the girls. Her legs shook and cunt ached. She pouted at A44. The pigtailed bimbo licked her fingers clean and smiled.

She was so mean. N47 loved her so much.

“We’re doing a targeted search today,” Master announced, his massive arms crossed. “There’s been an uptick in black market sales in the area. Intel thinks this female processing center is to blame. Odds are they’re cooking the books and keeping some of their subjects for themselves. Or their clients, as it were.”

N47 frowned. Cooking books? Why would someone do that? Even a dummy like her knew that wasn’t what you were supposed to do. No point asking Master to explain though. She didn’t have to understand anyway. It was just “for the record,” or whatever.

“Bravo Team has already secured the building and set up a perimeter. We will now conduct a sweep of the structure and surrounding area. If the employees are hiding any bim—excuse me, any subjects, my Hounds will be sure to find them.”

N47’s collar hummed, snapping her out of her daze. She blinked, then sighed as Master’s powerful hand pet her cheek. It made her tummy feel all warm and tingly. He chuckled, giving A44 a passing pat as well before stepping to the front of the formation.

“Alright, girls.” He smiled. “Ready to work?”

N47 felt delicate fingers lace between hers. She turned, smiling at her A44, who grinned back just as brightly. Both of them knew just how to answer.

“Arf arf!” the Bimbo Hounds barked.